Page 29 of Judge’s Obsession

I hold up a hand, cutting him off.

“Problem is, Preacher is smart. He’s not going to admit to sanctioning that attack. He’ll claim his VP went rogue. Might even use his death to stir shit up among his own ranks and remind them they don’t act without his say-so.”

More murmurs follow, and Ghost slams his fist on the table to quiet them.

“The only way to fix the problem we have with the Saints is to start a war, and the only way to do that is to get National on board,” I remind them.

I exchange looks with the men who were in my office before Demon’s attack. There’s a reason we’re beholden to National. The last thing we want is to be on our own.

Over the next thirty minutes, I tell my brothers everything we’ve learned from Kaylie. Outrage spreads around the table, only growing worse when I pull out my phone to call National.

And we learn our hands are still tied.

There isn’t enough information to authorize a war.

Tensions remain high when I call the meeting to a close and dismiss everyone.

Ghost, Ruin, Hawk, and Snake remain. The way they’re staring at me makes it clear they’re expecting something more.

They’re not wrong.

I rise to my feet and press my hands against the table, meeting each man’s eyes.

“She’s mine. I’m going to make her my Old Lady. If you have any problems with that, speak up.”

Silence.

“I’m going to Death Springs within the hour. Gonna take out the trash and settle her father’s debts.”

I wait for the arguments, or at least a recommendation to think before acting, but again, I get nothing but their quiet respect.

I nod. “Good. Those who want to come along for the ride, get ready.”

With that, I stride from the room.

Three hours later, we pull up in front of the Grave Saints’ clubhouse.

Snake stayed behind with the sweetbutts and the rest of the crew. One of our Prospects drove the cage to transport Preacher’s men.

Ghost helps me drag the bastards from the back of the truck, including Demon’s lifeless body. Behind us, my other men stand guard.

Preacher is surrounded by his crew, his eyes shooting fire. His mouth curls into a sinister sneer as his gaze lifts from the men to me.

“What is this? A declaration of war?”

“We both know you don’t have the manpower for something so reckless. How about you ask your men what they were doing shooting up my clubhouse?”

Preacher’s expression remains stone-cold. He’s not going to give anything away.

That’s fine.

I’m not here about him or his crew. I’m here for Kaylie.

I stride forward, and several guns swing in my direction. I refuse to cower.

I flick my fingers toward the Prospect who drove the cage, and he shuffles forward, a duffel bag in hand. I take it and throw it at Preacher’s feet.

The zipper is partially open. Everyone around us can see the cash inside.