The firelight paints everything in shades of orange, red, and gold. I can’t tell where men end and smoke begins. My ears ring with the sound of brothers calling each other’s names, swearing, promising, fighting to keep what’s left.
When I finally look up, I see her. Across the lot, through the haze and flashing lights, Pearl stands still. Her face is illuminated by the fire’s glow. Not afraid. Not surprised. Just watching and waiting.
For a second, I think I’m seeing things, but the cruel calm tilt of her head confirms it. It’s her. The flames flicker in her eyes like they belong to her. My heart stops cold.
Something cold replaces the heat in my stomach. Her mouth curves into a slight smile. Her lips move, too softly for me to hear, but her expression says enough. In this second, I know the fire isn’t the worst part. She wanted me to see her watching.
She did this. She set this. She tried to kill us.
Behind me, Tiny shifts. “Syv?”
“Tiny…” I whisper. I blink hard, forcing myself to breathe. Forcing myself to live.
He follows my gaze, freezes. “Get back,” he says under his breath, voice turning hard as steel. But before he can move, she’s gone, swallowed by the crowd, the smoke, the night.
Red’s voice crackles over comms. “Gas line was cut! Not an accident!”
Capone’s head snaps toward him. “Say that again.”
“Deliberate. Tools were tampered with. Someone did this.”
The words ripple through the crowd like electricity through wet wire. Dagger curses, ripping off his gloves and throwing them into the dirt. Torch slams his fist against the hood of a car. Bones mutters, “Someone set us up inside our own goddamn walls.”
Capone steps forward, boots crunching through the ash. His voice is calm, the kind of calm that means death’s coming for someone. “Lock it down.”
“Prez.” Trigger starts.
“Now.” Capone turns in a slow circle, eyes sweeping every face, his cut streaked with soot. “Nobody in or out until we know who did this. You see a stranger, you ask once. You see them move wrong, you don’t ask again.”
“Yes, Prez,” the brothers echo, in one voice, low and grim.
The silence after that vow is worse than the flames. Dagger’s jaw works, his eyes glassy from smoke and loss. Blayze grabs a shovel, starts smothering embers like he can undo what’s already gone. Red types with shaking hands, muttering coordinates and camera feeds.
Trigger leans against a truck, coughing black smoke, muttering, “We’ll find the bastard. Swear to God, we will.”
Danyella’s suddenly here, Nina clutching her hand, eyes wide. Blayze stands behind them, hand on her shoulder, watching Capone like he’s measuring the distance between fury and heartbreak.
Capone kneels briefly, cups his daughter’s cheek, then stands again, his voice like gravel and smoke. “This isn’t over.”
Tiny’s hand finds mine again, rough and shaking. We stand shoulder to shoulder as the fire eats the last of the garage. The place where we laughed. Where he fixed my bike. Where he kissed me like he meant it. Where we were fixing me.
It’s all gone.
The heat stings my face. It’s impossible to tell if the tears are from smoke or grief. Tiny’s arm wraps around me again, grounding me, anchoring me in a night determined to take everything we’ve built. Around us, the fire consumes, but it can’t touch the sound of the brothers rallying behind Capone. I can feel the weight of their loyalty press into the earth itself.
My throat burns for a new reason now.
Tiny stares at the flames, jaw locked tight, eyes reflecting orange. “He’s making his move.”
“Lattimer,” I whisper.
He nods once. “And Pearl just lit the match.”
Something inside me hardens. The part that used to break now sharpens. I don’t look away from the fire. I want to see what’s left, what’s worth rebuilding, what we’ll burn down next in return.
The fire pops, sending sparks spiraling into the night sky like dying stars. Around us, the club gathers. Soot-streaked, furious, but alive. Brotherhood stands shoulder to shoulder in the smoke, bound by rage and the unspoken vow that someone’s going to pay.
Capone’s voice cuts through the crackle one last time. “You hear me, boys?”