Ruger stares at the screen. His jaw works once. Twice.
"Porter doesn't need to hear this yet." His voice is barely above a whisper, and the control in it is more frightening than any shout I've ever heard. "Not until I've confirmed it. Not until I know how deep it goes."
I nod. "Krypton can confirm the access trail. Every login Skaggs used came through Sarah's credentials."
Ruger closes the laptop and presses both palms flat on the lid.
"One problem at a time." He looks up at me. "And tonight, the first problem is Dale Creedy."
* * *
Church convenes at noon.
I stand in the hallway where I've stood for the last three years, except this time the door is open and Ruger is looking directly at me.
Ruger is standing at the head of the table, both palms flat on the wood. "Get in here, Prospect."
I step inside, and the table is full.
Bloodhound at Ruger's right. Ounce to the left. Coin, Porter, Bracken, Maddox, Daemon, Wraith, Decorum, Saytr. Every patched member who can ride.
I don't sit. There's no chair for me. I stand at the end of the table with my hands at my sides and wait.
"Rookie's woman has been stalked by a man named Dale Creedy." Ruger's voice carries the flat authority of a president issuing an order, not opening a discussion. "Former cellmate of her father. Did twelve years for aggravated assault. Two counts. Both women."
The room absorbs it.
Maddox's fists curl on the table.
Daemon's expression goes blank, which is worse than anger.
Coin is motionless, calculating.
"He's approached her mother at home, at a gas station, and now at her workplace." Ruger's jaw tightens. "This last time, he put hands on the mother. Grabbed her arm and delivered a threat."
He pauses. "He's also been circling Backroads. Showed up in the parking lot after close and confronted Saylor directly, multiple times now."
Porter shifts in his chair. His eyes meet mine across the table, and I see something in them I haven't seen from him before.
Recognition.
One man looking at another and understanding exactly what it feels like when someone threatens the woman you'd bleed for.
"The code is clear." Ruger flattens his palms on the table. "No man puts hands on a woman connected to this club."
His gaze sweeps the room. "Creedy has been warned. By the girl. By her mother. By our prospect."
He lets the silence sit for two seconds. "He didn't listen."
He looks at Bloodhound. The SAA nods once. A single movement that carries the weight of a verdict.
"Tonight." Ruger stands. "Bloodhound, Ounce, Maddox, Prospect. You ride at ten."
My chest expands. Not with air. With purpose, heavy and iron-hard.
"Prez." I step forward. "Thank you for letting me be there when it happens."
Ruger studies me. The same assessing look he's been giving me for the last few years, except now there's something else underneath. Respect isn't the right word. Acknowledgment.