Hazel heard it. She lifted her head from Jax’s shoulder, eyes still red but sharpening again. “What now?” Dagger jerked his chin toward the older Viper who’d patched quick. The guy was slipping his phone back into his pocket, trying to look casual near the bikes. Jax’s arm tightened around Hazel. “Watch him,” he told Dagger low. “Everybody inside. Now.” The yard filled fast. Brothers shouting, engines cutting off, the new “recruits” herded in under gunpoint. The air smelled like exhaust, blood, and victory. But it felt thin. Hazel’s legs still shook as Jax helped her off the bike. She looked around at the familiar compound — her home once, before everything went to shit. It felt smaller now. Or maybe she was just bigger. Harder. Inside the clubhouse it was loud. Guys slamming beers,
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