Page 26 of Wilder’s Mistake

“Who was on the rear gate?” I ask.

Cash names the two prospects.

“Bring one to me. The other stays there.”

The taller prospect arrives at a run less than a minute later. He slows when he sees my face.

“Did Lucy come through your gate?”

“Yeah, Chains took her out.”

The yard seems to narrow around me. “When?”

“While the shooting was still going. Fifteen minutes ago, maybe longer.”

Fifteen minutes. Enough time to reach the county roads. Enough time to change vehicles and disappear in three different directions.

“Why did you open the gate?”

The prospect’s face loses its color. “He said you changed the position. Said you wanted her moved.”

“I didn’t.”

His eyes close for half a second. “Fuck.”

“Which way?”

“Down the service track. He had her on the back of his bike.”

I key my radio. “Chains has Lucy. He left through the rear gate at least fifteen minutes ago. Get a bike on every road out of Ransom and find them.”

The decoy was never meant to breach the compound. It was meant to pull us away long enough for one of our own to ride out with my wife.

Chains used my patch, my name and the trust I left her with. He fucking betrayed this club, and he can answer for all three after I bring her home.

I turn toward my bike and Kane catches my shoulder. “Wait.”

“He’s taking her to Perdition.”

“And they chose the track. You chase alone, you ride into whatever they built past that turn.”

“Then come with me.”

My phone rings inside the clubhouse, and every man hears it. At my nod, Cash answers, puts the call on speaker and sets the phone on the bar.

Bishop’s voice fills the room. “You can have your lovely new wife back on one condition.”

“And that is?” I reply.

“Bring the rifles you stole and both steel boxes. No trackers and no fucking games.”

Kane looks at Cash. “Load them.”

No debate. Cash runs for the garage while Tank and Gray pull the club truck around.

Bishop names an abandoned boat ramp twelve miles south of Ransom. One bridge in, a logging track through the hills on the other side. It’s a place chosen for exits.

“You hurt her,” I say, “and every mile home costs you a man.”