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“You’re keeping me away from my woman, and I’m not down with that shit.” He reared away from me, jumping in his seat when Atlas walked in. He looked between us, the displeasure on my face obvious.

“Should I leave you alone for a bit longer?” Atlas offered, and the punk shook his head, his body shaking like a chihuahua.

“Don’t leave me alone with him. I’ll talk. Crow sent me. Sent a bunch of us. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you. Just get him away from me.” The pussy wailed.

Ned turned out to be a font of information, starting with just how close Crow had gotten to his Uncle.

“Heard talk of expanding the operation since Orphan joined.”

That was another bit of information gathered. Crow no longer existed. He was now going by Orphan. His band of criminals follows in his wake, fueled by a false sense of purpose. In addition to ex-cons, this new club was a respite for nomads and brothers who had been excommunicated. They had been kicked out of their clubs for anything from stealing to assault.

“They’re specifically recruiting ex-cons and recent parolees. Offering them somewhere to go, a mission once they’re out.” His uncle and cousin had a steady stream of new ‘brothers’ fresh out of jail and ready for their next big score. Wyatt’s stints in prison were like job fairs, more than anything.

Each sentence was a new opportunity to create another layer between them and the job. Recruiting underlings was the first ring they had to jump through, to keep their hands clean the next time the cops came calling.

Crow teaming up with his Uncle Wyatt had a ripple effect none of us could have predicted. Wyatt’s connections and Crow’s understanding of how to navigate outside of the law had allowed them to become a functioning group. Crow had taken everything he had learned to protect Seph’s Trail and was now using it against us, creating new victims.

“Anyone who’s got an axe to grind, revenge, that’s where they’re going. They may call each other brothers, but everyone is there for themselves. They’re just waiting for their turn to have backup on whatever vendetta they’re on.” Atlas and I exchanged looks; the more we learned, the worse things sounded.

This made for a natural bond among the members, a sense of being wronged. Of wanting to get back at someone, to be heard and seen. Despite what we had learned, we hadn’t been able to lock down a clear location for Crow—or is it Orphan now? He wasn’t staying in one place for long. The closest thing to homebase was the trailer park his uncle lived in, running his hillbilly empire within the confines of his ankle monitor.

From there, we shifted the rest of our trip to check the accuracy of the new information. It was clear that Crow wasn’t just trying to build his own club—he was creating an army. Preparing for a full-blown attack on The Reaper’s Guard. This wasn’t something small. It wasn’t just an ego trip. This was on a bigger scale; he wanted to wipe us out completely and was doing his due diligence to prepare and plan in ways we had never expected.

Atlas and I wound up riding all the way through Vermont to the border of Canada. We had stopped a few times along the way, touching base with different charters and anyone Keys told us might have some information.

What was most alarming were the carefully hidden rentals and containers scattered around the country. Atlas and I had come across one—an unassuming storage unit nestled in a row of thousands in a rural strip deep in Vermont.

The unit we were interested in belonged to one Ronnie Dower. Since he tried to kill my woman, I decided this was payment owed. Breaking into the storage unit was startlingly easy. What we found inside was anything but.

Ammunition, unmarked boxes containing gun parts, as well as emergency rations, restraints, and a variety of military grade supplies. It was clear that Ronald had been stockpiling, but his collection wasn’t complete. In the time since then, Keys had identified nearly a dozen other units under the names of Orphan’s followers.

Atlas made the last round of the trip through Canada. He had his own sources there that he didn’t want to risk compromising with someone they didn’t know. I was more than happy for the excuse to circle back. The time away was harder than I could have imagined. Everything I had left behind, all the unfinished business with the club and Lilah, weighed on me.

The last leg of the trip, I rode for fourteen hours straight. By the time I pulled into the familiar gravel path that led up to the clubhouse gate, my eyes were blurry and my legs sore. My return was announced as soon as I went through the guard booth, the brothers already waiting for my updates.

The Church meeting was long as I detailed everything we had learned, combined with the photographs we had managed to find with the help of Lilah’s sketch and Keys’ surveillance. An uncomfortable hush settled over the group as Keys pulled up the photo he managed to grab from CCTV outside the MET.

In HD, a man was centered on our screen. His face was sallow, skeletal. The hollows under his eyes rivaled those of a corpse. There were scars scattered across the right side of his face. Like a lightning strike, the puckered white lines seemed to start near his eyebrow, then spread across his cheek. One lone scar on the left side bisected his mouth, his entire face looked freshly wounded, barely healed.

His once long hair was shaved off, a beard covering whatever additional scars he had gained in the time since he left. Was he in an accident? A result of a fight? We still didn’t know all that he had been up to. With that updated glimpse of Crow, a new solemnity settled over the club. As if this physical transformation somehow confirmed the internal changes we all were trying to ignore.

The man we thought we knew, the one we called brother, didn’t exist. Maybe he never had. Regardless, it didn’t matter. Orphan was who we were fighting now, and he had woven a complicated web. Tentacles, trails—whatever you wanted to call it—there were too many for us to follow, too many for us to attack right away.

Passing the information along, it was up to the club to figure out which trail to pursue first. Reaper made the decisions, determined the next steps. I had a brief reprieve for a moment, not yet having any real time to process all that we had learned.

“Okay, I think you’ve caught all of us up. Bash will work with Dagger on tracking down all the storage units. Scythe, you stick with Atlas. Once he has the next trip planned, we’ll head out. Is your passport up to date?” I nodded in response, and Reaper slapped the table in dismissal.

“Alright. Get to it, then.” The guys stood up and started filing out of the room, comparing notes or making plans. I stayed where I was seated, and it didn’t pass my notice that Reaper, Bull, and Keys all stayed as well. Reaper shot Bull a look, who was trying to avoid making eye contact with me.

“What happened?” I asked, disliking the feeling that everyone knew something I didn’t.

“Well, Charlie and I were at the bar the other night to keep Lilah company.” I shoved back in my chair, getting ready to leave. We had spoken every night, but she hadn’t said anything.

“Easy. You’re gonna wanna hear this,” Reaper said, and I forced myself to sit back down.

“A guy was there. A weird loner in a cheap suit. Charlie clocked him as soon as we got in and was watching Lilah all night. Charlie-girl managed to get his name. Asshole had his tab open, and the credit card just happened to get placed down where she could read it. We sent it over to Keys, along with a picture. Before we could tell Lilah to avoid him, she was at his table.”

“Did he touch her?” I could feel my heart beating in my ears, blood rushing through my body with the need to move, fight, kill.