Page 109 of Grim

Ledger shook his head. “Viper’s part of it. But he’s not the top. He’s too sloppy. Too impulsive. Someone bigger is pulling strings.”

The air shifted, not explosive, but cold. Focused. The kind of tension that came after bloodshed, not before it.

Stone exhaled slowly. “Switchblade died protecting family. We avenged him. But this isn’t over.”

Rook growled. “So we keep hunting.”

Stone nodded. “We hunt smart.”

Havoc scoffed. “Smart doesn’t keep our people safe.”

Stone’s gaze hardened. “Smart keeps us alive long enough to finish this.”

Silence.

Ledger slid a grainy photo across the table, a black SUV, no plates, no markings. But the silhouette of the driver was unmistakable.

Viper.

“He’s running,” Ledger said. “And he’s not running alone.”

Grim’s hands curled into fists. “I want him.”

Stone didn’t look away. “You’ll get him. But not blind. Not rushed. Not until we know who he’s working with.”

Grim’s breath shook, barely, but enough for Stone to notice.

“We’ll get them,” Stone said quietly. “All of them.”

Grim nodded once.

But it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

Not until Viper was dead. Not until the ring was destroyed. Not until Sophia never had to look over her shoulder again.

Stone lifted the gavel.

“This club stands for its own. Switchblade died a Saint. Sophia was taken from our home. We answered that. Now we finish it.”

The gavel hit the table with a sharp crack.

“Church dismissed.”

The men rose slowly, chairs scraping against scorched concrete. No one spoke. No one needed to.

They’d buried a brother. They’d spilled blood for him. They’d brought Sophia home. And the man who started it all was still out there.

Stone rested a hand on the table, fingers brushing the ash-stained wood. “We stay sharp. We stay ready.”

Grim didn’t look up. He didn’t have to. The promise was already carved into him.

The Saints filed out one by one, boots echoing through the ruined hall.

The sun dipped low as the club gathered near the fence line. A small table had been set up, Switchblade’s cut folded neatly on top, his name patch beside a single candle. Someone had cleaned it, but the smell of smoke still clung to it.

Sophia stood with Lacey, wrapped in her blanket, eyes shining with exhaustion and grief.

Grim’s chest tightened.