Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 181(@200wpm)___ 145(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
My bike waits outside. Chrome still warm from the ride in. I swing onto it. The seat molds to my body. The engine rumbles back to life beneath me. Its growl matches the fury in my chest. Brothers fall in behind as I pull out. The compound gates open just long enough for us to roar through then slam shut again.
Night air whips against my face. Salt stings my eyes. The road stretches dark ahead. Sugarloaf Bridge waits somewhere in the blackness. A dead man hangs there as a message. I’ll read that message. Then I’ll send one back written in the blood of whoever thought they could challenge the Royal Bastards on our own ground.
The hunt begins now. This island belongs to me. These roads. These men. This life carved from violence and loyalty. No one takes from me without paying in kind.
The Harley eats the miles. My mind runs darker scenarios with every turn. The scent of blood still clings to my thoughts. The weight of the patch on my back feels heavier tonight. President means more than rank. It means I carry every death. Every lost shipment. Every challenge to our power.
By the time the bridge lights appear in the distance my blood runs ice cold with purpose. Odin will not be the last body found in the Keys. More will follow. I’ll make sure of it. But it’ll be our enemies’ blood spilled instead. Whoever started this dance will regret the day they stepped onto my territory.
War has come to the islands.
And I’m its king.
2
Kraken
The ride back from Sugarloaf Bridge stretches longer than the miles should allow. My mind narrows sharp after seeing what they left of Odin. Everything useless falls away. Only three things remain. Who did it? Why they did it. And how much time I’ve got before they start believing they got away clean.
The Harley eats the dark road beneath me. Black asphalt blurs into streaks under the headlight. I push the throttle harder than necessary. The engine roars between my legs. Its heat burns through my jeans and sears my thighs. Wind whips fierce across my face. It carries thick salt that crusts on my lips and stings my eyes raw. The ocean flanks both sides of the highway. Waves crash against rocks with angry slaps. Their foam glows white under moonlight like exposed bone. Palm trees whip past. Their fronds rattle harsh in the night breeze. The air tastes of brine and distant decay. Rotting seaweed mixed with the faint copper tang still clings to my thoughts from the bridge.
I keep the speed high. The cut flaps violent against my chest. My knuckles stay white on the grips. The image of Odin swings behind my eyes. Rope tight around his neck. Body dangling under the bridge like meat on a hook. Blood had dripped slowly into the water below. That image fuels the fire in my veins. Someone wanted fear to spread through my club like poison. They’ll learn soon enough what happens when you poke the beast in its own territory.
Headlights cut through the darkness ahead. I don’t slow. Other vehicles pull aside quick when they spot my patch. Smart move. The road feels alive tonight. Every shadow holds a threat. Every distant engine rumble could belong to enemies circling closer. My jaw stays locked tight. The taste of road dust and rage coats my tongue.
By the time the compound lights appear on the horizon night has swallowed the Keys whole. Stars hide behind thick clouds. The gates look heavier now. Razor wire glints sharper under floodlights. The place feels different. Less uncertain. More focused. Anger does that to men. It burns away doubt and leaves only purpose behind.
I kill the engine outside the main building. The sudden quiet presses heavy on my ears. No laughter spills from inside. No music thumps against the walls. Just loaded silence that vibrates with coming violence. My boots hit the ground solid. Gravel shifts under my weight. The night air cools the sweat on my neck but does nothing to calm the storm in my chest.
I push through the clubhouse doors. The room waits for orders now. Not answers. Smoke still lingers thick from earlier. It mixes with the sour bite of whiskey and the metallic edge of fear.
Mace stands near the bar. Arms crossed over his chest. His eyes lock on mine like he’s replayed the bridge scene a hundred times since I left. Ghost leans against a nearby table. Quiet as always. But I know him. The slight forward tilt in his shoulders gives him away. He calculates every angle. Every possible betrayal. Every throat that might need cutting before dawn.
I walk straight through without pause. My boots thud heavy on the floorboards.
“We’re not guessing,” I say. My voice cuts low through the room. “We’re not speculating. We find who had access to that route. Who knew the exact timing.”