Page 23

Church. Thirty minutes. Mandatory.

The common room is buzzing when I walk through. Club bunnies laugh too loud near the bar. Prospects are still riding high from the group ride. Tatum sits at a corner table nursing water, tight crop top showing off her ink and the tension in her body. Our eyes lock. She gives me that half-smirk—the one that makes my dick twitch and my temper flare. I don’t smile back. I let her see the storm in my face before heading down the hall toward the chapel. The officers file in one by one. Lennox last, jaw already tight like he knows something’s up.

Good. You lied to your brothers. We need to know why.

I don’t sit at my usual spot. I stay standing at the head of the table, arms crossed, until the door shuts and the gavel comes down.

“What the fuck is this about, Switch?” Fuse asks, kicking his boots up on the table. “I was in the middle of⁠—”

“Tatum,” I cut him off. The name drops like a live grenade.

The room goes dead quiet. Lennox’s eyes narrow on me. I look straight at him. “When were you planning on telling us she was Nicholas’s old lady? That she spent years spying on Iron Wraiths for Redline before she flipped the whole table over and helped the DEA wipe them out?”

Silence stretches like the calm before a storm. Fuse breaks first, slamming his fist onto the table. “The fuck?”

Diesel leans forward, face dark. “You telling me we voted in the enemy’s fucking queen?”

Ledger’s already pulling out his laptop like he’s ready to dig through every financial trail she might’ve touched. Judge stays quiet—he already knew. Him and Thomas’s information started this fire.

Lennox doesn’t flinch. He meets my stare head-on, that president mask firmly in place. “She’s my responsibility. She came to me for protection after she burned every bridge she had to in order to get out. She gave us Eric. She gave us the evidence we needed for years.”

“Yeah, after she helped them evade us for just as long,” I snap. “She played both sides, Pres. You really think that kind of snake sheds its skin overnight?”

He stands slowly, hands flat on the table. “Don’t fucking push me, Switch. I told you she is a family friend. Since when were we the kind of men that don’t believe in second chances or standing up for family. She could have run anywhere, and she came here.”

The room erupts again. Accusations fly. Questions. Fuse wants to know if she’s still feeding anyone intel. Diesel’s pissed we weren’t told before the vote. I let it rage for a minute, watching Lennox’s face the whole time. When it dies down, I speak again, voice controlled. “We bring her in. Full church. She answers to every man here. No more secrets. If she wants to wear our patch someday, and proudly wear a property of Iron Wraith’s or whatever half-ass plan you got in your head for patching her in, she starts by putting every card about Redline on this table.”

Lennox’s jaw works. He doesn’t like it, but he knows he doesn’t have a choice. “Fine,” he says finally. “But I’m telling you right now—she’s not the enemy. She took down the man who owned her to protect people she didn’t even know. That takes balls most of us don’t have.”

I don’t respond. I’m too busy remembering the feel of her shoulder brushing mine, and the way she rides like she’s trying to outrun demons bigger than all of us. We call in the full table. Prospects are told to stay out, minus her. When the room fills, the tension is thick enough to choke on. Tatum walks in last, escorted by Lennox. She scans the room once, and her eyes land on me. Something flickers there. Not fear, exactly. Recognition. Like she knew this moment was coming. Lennox stays at her side as she stands at the end of the table. The same spot she took during the officer meeting.

I don’t waste time, because information like this could kill every man in here. “Tell them who you really are, Prospect.”

She lifts her chin. That fire I’ve come to expect flashes in her eyes, but there’s exhaustion underneath it now. “My name is Tatum. I was Nicholas Baker’s old lady in Redline Revenant for about three years. I helped run their security systems and fed them information when they needed it.”

Murmurs ripple through the room. A few guys shift toward their weapons.

She keeps going, voice steady. “When I realized how dark it got—kids as mules, poisoning streets, hits on clubs that wouldn’t roll—I fed information the other way. To the DEA. I shut the security systems down and walked out while they raided.” She looks around the table, meeting every hard stare. “You can call me a traitor. But I’m not here to fuck this club over. I’m here because I need somewhere to stand while the dust settles, but also, you need me.” Her eyes come back to me. “Ask me whatever you want, Switch. I’m done hiding, but you need me as much as I need you, and you need to fucking understand that.”

The room is silent except for the AC hum. I study her—the healing split lip, fading bruises, hands loose like she’s ready for anything. I should be angrier. Instead, respect and something dangerous settles in my chest. Want. Recognition of someone who’s walked through fire and came out swinging.

This woman is going to wreck me.

I lean forward, bracing my hands on the table. “You keep saying we need you, but why? Why do we need a snake?”

She smirks, and it sends a thrill down my spine. "Redline was coming for Iron Wraiths next. You think jail stops a man like Nicholas? He’ll rebuild. It may not be tomorrow or next week, but he will come for your club. I took him down once. I know the inside of his brain better than anyone. I can help take him down again.” Her words cause the room to erupt again. Some shout traitor. Others see the value. She winks at me, fully aware of how dangerous she is.

Fuck this, and fuck her.

“Enough!” I roar, silencing everyone. We lock eyes again. “To stay here, you have to prove you deserve it. You say you’re done hiding, then you will show us that. You fuck up, lie, bring heat to this club and my brothers…” I let the threat hang between us. “I will personally deal with you.”

She doesn’t look away. “Understood, sir.”

The word does something filthy to my brain. I shove it down.

Lennox watches us both like he’s calculating how many bodies he’ll have to bury if this goes wrong. Church drags on for another hour. Questions. Accusations. Tatum answers every single one without flinching. By the time we dismiss, the club is uneasy but intact. She’s earned a temporary reprieve. This woman didn’t just bring a fucking nuclear war to our door. She is the actual bomb that could blow everyone and everything up. Some sick part of me wants to see the chaos, but eventually, I know one of us will break.

The question is: Who’s first?