The word goes around the compound at eight in the morning. By nine we're all in the room, phones in the box by the door, chairs pulled out, the table filling up with men who know something's coming by the particular tone of Razor's voice when he called it. He doesn't do that voice unless it's real.
Razor stands at the head of the table. He doesn't sit for this one. He picks up a sheet of paper from the table and reads it once more to himself before he looks up.
"The High Stakes MC delivered this yesterday." He sets it down and reads it flat. "'We need more room to grow. We’ve decided to settle in this town. Get ready for the fight of your life for your territory.'”
The room absorbs this.
Cash leans back in his chair and folds his arms and his gaze turns inward, already running routes, contingencies and options. Ramsey, sitting at his shoulder the way Ramsey always sits at Cash's shoulder, says, "They'll come in from the north side first. That's the softest entry."
Cash points at him without looking over. "North side. Two roads in, both visible from the Hennessey ridge."
"I was about to say that," Cash replies.
"I know," Ramsey says.
The brothers who've been around long enough to know them exchange looks. This is Cash and Ramsey, always has been. Two men operating on one frequency, finishing thoughts before they're spoken. Meg used to find it unsettling until she was part of it. Now she says it's the most efficient thing she's ever seen.
Shadow, at the far end of the table, hasn't moved. He does this in Church; goes very still the way he goes still when he's listening to the subtext of what's being said. "What do they want specifically?" he asks. "Territory is a reason but it's not a reason. Do we know if it's the routes? Distribution? Do they want us out or do they want a piece of what we run?"
Razor nods slowly. "That's the right questions. Braxton, I want you and Meg on their digital footprint today. We can't fight what we can't name and Shadow's right, the message tells us intent but not objective. We need to know what they're actually after before we decide how to respond."
Braxton nods once.
Knuckles, who has been sitting with his elbows on the table and his jaw set since the message was read out, cracks his knuckles. The sound is loud enough in the quiet room to make Seb flinch. Cash grins. Two of the other brothers laugh, and it breaks enough of the tension that everyone breathes slightly differently for the next ten seconds.
"Any time you're ready, Knuckles," Cash says.
"I've been ready," Knuckles says. "I'm just waiting for someone to tell me where to point it."
Pops, who is always quiet and steady, leans forward. "Jules is at the bakery today. Main street, full visibility. If these people are already moving around our territory, she's exposed."
"I know," Razor says. And the way he says it means he knew before Pops asked, that he's already thought about it. "We're not locking the old ladies down until we know more. That'll cause more panic than it prevents. But I want eyes on the main street today and I want Jules to know without being told why. Keep it casual."
Pops nods. He's not entirely satisfied with that answer but he understands it, and understanding it is enough for now.
Shadow's old lady runs a florist two streets over. He doesn't say anything about her. He doesn't need to. Razor looks at him and he looks back and that's the conversation handled.
"What do we know about them?" Braxton asks. "Numbers, leadership, how long they've been watching us?"
"Not enough yet. That's what we need to fix today." Razor leans on the table. "They're not small. Detroit chapter has run into them twice in the last year, both times they moved on before it came to anything. They're patient, which means they're not hotheads. Patient is more dangerous."
"Patient means they've been planning this," Ramsey says quietly.
"Which means they know our layout," Shadow says.
The room goes colder by about two degrees.
Cash unfolds his arms and leans forward. "Then we need to know theirs. I want to know where they're sleeping, where they're fuelling up, and whether anyone in this town has been talking to them. Because they didn't pick this town at random."
"Agreed." Razor points at Braxton. "Start with their digital presence. Then I want a physical sweep. Anyone who's comethrough this town in the last thirty days that we didn't know about, I want to know about them now."
I've been waiting for the right moment and now I take it. "The kids," I say. "EJ's at school right now. So are eight other club kids under ten. If High Stakes are already making moves in this territory, the school is exposed too."
The room shifts. Not in alarm, in attention. There's a difference.
Razor looks at me steadily. "What are you thinking?"
"After school today they come straight here and they stay here until we know what we're dealing with. No exceptions." I keep my voice level. Not asking. Proposing. "I'm not panicking, Prez. I'm being practical. The kids are the softest target we have and the easiest way to apply pressure to any one of us in this room. We close that off before they find it."