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He nods, his body sagging with relief. “Good.”

“What do you think this is all about?” I ask and he shakes his head before scanning the room.

“I don’t know but you don’t bring this much fire power for something small.”

Uncomfortable silence descends over all of us as we wait for Storm to come back out of the war room and my belly flips as my mind screams for relief.

I want out of this room.

I want to get away from these damn cops.

Oh, and also, I hope to never see Officer fucking Riley again.

Yelling reaches us through the door of the war room but it’s not Storm losing his temper in there and as I listen to Sergeant Williams demand answers from him, I rack my brain for what any of us could have done that would have brought this level of persecution down on us but I’ve honestly got nothing. These people, despite the biker club reputation they get saddled with, are some of the kindest, most down to earth people I’ve ever met and every single one of them has accepted me into their family, as I am, with no reservations or conditions. They don’t seem like the kind of people who would ever do anything to warrant a fucking S.W.A.T. raid let alone a police investigation.

The door to the war room swings open and Storm marches out, a scowl on his face and rage in his eyes, followed by Sergeant Williams looking smug as shit as she glances around the room. “Malcolm West, you’re up next. Everyone else can have a seat somewhere and I’ll get to you eventually.”

As soon as Blaze walks into the room and the door closes, we all congregate around the tables in the middle of the room. Lincoln walks up to me and pulls me into his arms as he releases a sigh.

“Are you okay?”

I nod, glancing behind him as Tate walks up. “I’m fine. What about you guys?”

“We’re good, little sis,” he assures me before we all sit down together. Travis pulls his chair closer to mine before sinking into it and grabbing my hand. Storm sits in the middle of the group before scrubbing a hand down his face and sighs.

“I’m not going to lie, y’all. This is… fucking bad.”

Ali grabs his hand in between both of hers and gives it a squeeze. “What is it, baby? Why are they here?”

“They have a video of a man… a man who looks and sounds exactly like me but he’s saying shit I didn’t say, shit I wouldn’t ever say…”

“Like what?” Travis asks as he grips my hand tightly. Storm blows out a breath and shakes his head, the stress of the situation showing in every movement of his body.

“He talked about how hard the club had worked to be an asset to the community but that, despite everything we’ve done, we were still treated like second-class citizens. Then he started talking about if the people of Baton Rouge wanted to be afraid of us then we were going to give them something to be afraid of. He said we were going to start attacking the city for their neglect and carelessness…”

“Jesus,” Chance hisses, leaning back in his chair. My heart races as my mind struggles to wrap itself around everything he’s saying.

“How did they get this video?”

Storm scoffs. “A concerned citizen brought it to their attention after it was posted on the internet.”

“This is so fucking bad,” Travis groans, dropping his head back and closing his eyes as he grits his teeth. “Fucking Warren. It’s got to be.”

“How, Streak? How in the fuck does this person in the video look like me and how the hell am I ever going to clear my name when they have what looks like concrete evidence? I’m totally fucked and if this is Warren, this club is fucked, too. He just fucking won.”