Chapter 15: War for Desert Ridge

EMILIA POV

The emergency meeting lasted well past midnight.

Maps covered every table inside the clubhouse.

Marco stood at the front, marking enemy positions with a red marker while Ghost studied satellite photos spread across the wall.

No one laughed anymore.

The Black Wolves had declared war.

And this time, they weren't coming alone.

"The Reapers have joined forces with Victor Kane," Marco said grimly.

"Our scouts counted nearly eighty armed men moving toward Desert Ridge."

A heavy silence settled over the room.

"We have forty-eight hours," Ghost added.

"Maybe less."

"Then we make every second count," Marco replied.

Assignments were handed out.

Snipers were placed on the surrounding cliffs.

Roadblocks were prepared.

Every family living near the clubhouse was quietly evacuated before sunrise.

The Iron Serpents weren't preparing for revenge.

They were preparing for survival.

After the meeting ended, Ghost found me standing outside beneath the stars.

"You should be resting," he said.

"Can you?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Didn't think so."

We walked toward the old garage where we'd spent so much time as teenagers.

"Do you regret coming home?" Ghost asked quietly.

I thought about the question.

If I had stayed in the city, none of this would've happened.

But I never would've learned the truth about my father.

Or Ghost.

"No," I answered honestly.

"I regret losing six years with you."

Ghost smiled faintly.

"We'll make up for them."

"After the war."

"After the war," I agreed.

The following morning, the clubhouse buzzed with nonstop activity.

Mechanics repaired damaged motorcycles.

Ammo was distributed.

Everyone knew that many of them might not survive the coming battle.

Mama C insisted on helping despite her injuries.

"Somebody has to keep you fools fed," she grumbled.

Her stubbornness made everyone smile.

By afternoon, the scouts returned.

"Movement!"

"Multiple vehicles heading this way!"

Marco immediately climbed the watchtower.

Dust clouds stretched across the distant highway.

"How many?" Ghost asked.

"More than expected," the scout replied.

"They're coming early."

Sirens echoed throughout the compound.

"Battle stations!" Marco shouted.

Every biker rushed to position.

Ghost handed me a bulletproof vest.

"Wear it."

"Only if you wear yours."

"Deal."

He fastened the vest around my shoulders himself.

"Stay close to me."

"I'm done hiding."

"I know."

"That doesn't mean I won't worry."

I squeezed his hand.

"We'll survive."

The roar of dozens of engines grew louder.

Then they appeared.

Black SUVs.

Motorcycles.

Armed men wearing the patches of both the Black Wolves and the Reapers.

Victor Kane had united every enemy my father had ever made.

Marco stepped forward with his shotgun resting on one shoulder.

"This is Iron Serpents territory," he shouted.

"Turn around while you still can."

Victor climbed from the lead SUV.

His expensive black suit looked strangely clean in the middle of the desert.

"I'm not here for your territory," he answered calmly.

"I'm here for my niece."

"She belongs with her family."

"She already has one," Marco replied.

Victor's smile disappeared.

"Then they'll die with her."

He raised one hand.

Instantly, dozens of rifles pointed toward the clubhouse.

Ghost stepped in front of me.

"You'll never touch her."

"We'll see," Victor answered.

Without another word, he lowered his hand.

The first explosion rocked the front gate.

The war had begun.

Gunfire erupted from every direction.

The Iron Serpents answered immediately.

Bullets tore through vehicles.

Motorcycles crashed together.

Smoke covered the desert floor.

Ghost fought beside Marco, holding back the first wave of attackers.

I stayed close, helping injured members reach safety while firing whenever an enemy broke through.

For nearly thirty minutes, neither side gained ground.

Then one of the scouts screamed from the watchtower.

"They're behind us!"

A second convoy burst through the rear entrance.

"Impossible!" Marco shouted.

"Nobody knew about that road!"

Ghost's expression turned ice cold.

"Someone told them."

"The second traitor..."

"They're still inside our club."

Before anyone could react, a gunshot echoed from behind.

Marco stumbled forward, clutching his shoulder.

"Marco!" I screamed.

Ghost spun around.

Standing beside the clubhouse entrance was one of their own.

An Iron Serpent.

His pistol still smoking.

"Sorry, President," the man said with a cruel smile.

"Victor pays better."

The real betrayal had finally revealed itself.