Page 24 of Bolt's Flame

The asshole turned, yelling something back into the building, and within seconds, the sound of boots pounded from inside. Mystic, Spinner and Thunder tensed, ready for a fight, but I held up a hand. “No, it’s suicide. Devil would want us to back off.”

We backed away from the bikes, retreating into the shadows as more men poured out of the mill. Dragon Fire had more men inside than we thought, and we weren’t equipped for a full-on brawl. So my call was spot on and we continued to melt back into the darkness.

With adrenaline pounding, we slipped further into the shadows, keeping our steps light as we retreated, but my mind was anything but calm. Dragon Fire wasn’t just stepping into our territory; they were planting themselves right in our face, daring us to come after them. This was a message. They wanted us to know they were close, and they weren’t afraid of the heat it’d bring.

Thunder’s jaw was clenched tight, his fists white-knuckled with the frustration of a fight denied. “I hate runnin’,” he gritted out, voice barely a whisper as he followed me deeper into the trees.

I nodded, understanding his anger all too well. But Devil had made it clear—if we were going to retaliate, it needed to be on our terms, not theirs. I glanced back, watching the men still spilling out of the mill, their voices echoing into the night, rough laughter and jeers filling the silence we left behind.

As we reached the edge of the woods where our bikes waited, Spinner gave one last look over his shoulder. “They’ll come lookin’ for us. You know that, right?”

“Let them,” I replied, my voice low but cold with determination. “We’ve made our move. They’re gonna wake up tomorrow and realize they can’t roll through our territory without some kind of consequences.”

Spinner smirked. “They’ll be sittin’ on their asses with busted bikes and a pissed-off Prez breathing down their necks.”

Thunder’s frustration turned into a slow grin, and even Mystic managed a chuckle as we mounted our bikes. We might not have gotten the fight tonight, but Dragon Fire was going to feel our presence, hear our warning in the hiss of their tires and the silence of dead engines. Like Thunder, I wanted blood, but in this life, you had to learn to be smart or you got buried in a shallow grave.

As we roared back toward home, the fire in my chest was far from extinguished. This was just the beginning. We’d be ready for them, and they wouldn’t see us coming when the time was right.

The Devil’s House wasn’t a place for the weak, no fucking way. We walk away today so we can completely destroy them tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWELVE

SHE THOUGHT SHEcould hide.

I watched from the shadows, my body coiled with tension as I saw her through the window. She moved around the kitchen like nothing was wrong, like she wasn’t supposed to bemine. Every time she smiled, every time she laughed with those bikers, something twisted inside me. She thought she could leave, that she could just disappear into their world and leave me behind.

She was wrong.

Did Fiona think I was stupid that I wouldn’t figure out she was staying with her father’s club? A real piece of work, that one—Horse—what kind of fucking name was that? As if his little gang of outlaws could protect her from me. I let them play theirgame for now, let her feel safe behind their walls, but she’d learn soon enough.

She was my wife.

I shifted my weight, my shoes treading softly in the dirt as I moved closer to the clubhouse. The noise from inside drowned out any sound I made. Typical biker bullshit—parties, bonfires, sex and booze. That was her life now, was it? Surrounded by men with no morals, who thought they were invincible just because they had a patch on their backs and bikes to ride.

But no one could keep her from me.

I leaned against the tree at the edge of the property, far enough back to stay out of sight but close enough to watch her. I’d been following her for weeks now, waiting for the right moment to remind her who she belonged to. But so far, she was never alone, always some piece of trash around her.

My hand tightened into a fist, the anger simmering so hot I was sweating bullets. She hadn’t answered my calls. I’d left her messages, sent texts—each one more desperate than the last—but nothing. Not a single word. It was like she didn’t even care what leaving me had done. Like she didn’t remember the promises we made, the vows we took.

I hadn’t wanted to hurt her.

Not at first.

She made me do it. She didn’t listen, didn’tobeythe way she was supposed to. Fiona was too damn stubborn, too proud to submit to me the way she should have when we first got married. Finally, I thought I had her just where I wanted her and then she up and calls her no good father.

When I had come home and found her gone, I had been livid, running for the door and then I saw our wedding picture, a knife shoved into my face, and I knew who had helped Fiona.

And just where to find her.

It was surprisingly easy to get inside the grounds, a small hike through the woods, where I slipped on a pair of rubber boots to wade through the marsh, and here I was.

I watched her through the window as she laughed with one of the bikers—Josie, I think his name was. He was too close to her. He smiled too much. Touching her shoulder, leaning in too damn close. My chest tightened, my nails digging into my palms. Who the hell did he think he was? He had no right to touch her, to even look at her.

My breath came out in a slow hiss, and I forced myself to stay where I was. It wasn’t time yet. Not yet. But soon. She had to know. Had to realize that I was still out here, still her husband. She couldn’t pretend like she’d moved on. She couldn’t just forget about me.

I’ll make sure she never forgets.