The moment they ripped off her blindfold, Alice braced herself to find squalor — a filthy mattress in some abandoned warehouse, cold concrete under her spine, or maybe the stench of mold choking the air.

  Instead, she blinked up at a high ceiling with a crystal chandelier, lying on what looked like a king-sized bed dressed in crisp, clean sheets. Her ankles were tied, one wrist cuffed to a sleek, modern metal nightstand. A guard leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his bored stare fixed on her.

  What really threw her wasn’t the room itself, but the little touches: a vase of fresh flowers on the dresser, a tray with a glass of orange juice, a cup of steaming coffee, and sandwiches neatly arranged on the nightstand.

  This was kidnapping, sure — but apparently with room service.

  Meanwhile, back in town, the sheriff's voice carried through the phone, sharp and concerned.

  "Alice’s realtor called it in. Found her front door wide open, phone dropped in the hallway, no sign of Alice anywhere."

  Susy’s heart skipped. She hung up and immediately called Eddie who wasted no time alerting Jax. By the time the sheriff put out an APB, every biker in a fifty-mile radius knew Alice was missing.

  It didn’t take long before half the town, or so it seemed, was crowded around Alice’s — or rather, Aunt Margaret’s — old house. The sheriff pulled up, eyeing the scene with thinly veiled irritation: motorcycles clogging the street, leather-clad bikers lounging on the porch, boots tracking dirt through the house.

  "This is a potential crime scene, folks," the sheriff said dryly, stepping over a broken flowerpot. "Believe it or not, this police tape is not festive décor."

  Jax, arms crossed, raised a brow. "And yet here you are, Sheriff. Didn’t you already search the place?"

  "I did," the sheriff said smoothly, "but forty Harleys parked outside makes people nervous."

  Inside, Eddie, Susy, Ben, Tony, and the rest of the Vipers clustered in the living room, grim faces lit by the fading afternoon sun.

  "You need to stay out of this, Jax," the sheriff warned, his voice calm but firm.

  "You know this is Cade," Jax snapped back.

  "Yeah, and I’ve already got my counterpart in Rustwood staking out the Reaper bar and their known haunts," the sheriff replied.

  "That's exactly where Cade expects you to look. He's not stupid."

  The sheriff nodded, grim. "I know. But he took Alice for a reason. He’ll make contact. When he does, we move — carefully. No civilians getting hurt."

  Jax’s expression darkened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned to Eddie. "I’ve got an errand to run. You’re in charge."

  Across the border, Alice stared at her untouched sandwich.

  The guard, after taking a huge bite of his own sandwich, shrugged at her suspicious glare.

  Great. If he was willing to eat it, it probably wasn't poisoned.

  Probably.

  Before she could overthink it further, the door creaked open.

  An elderly woman shuffled in, her gray hair neatly pinned up, her blue eyes sharp behind big glasses.

  "Drink up, dear," she said, her voice warm. "Coffee’s getting cold. Or did you want sugar and cream?"

  Alice blinked. "Uh, no thanks. Black is fine. Um... who are you?"

  "Name’s Anna, but everyone calls me Granny," the woman said with a kind smile. She reached over and patted Alice's hand, the gesture oddly comforting — until Alice noticed the faded reaper tattoo on the old woman’s wrinkled forearm.

  Cade’s mark.

  "You're... Cade’s grandmother?" Alice asked carefully.

  "That I am, dear. He’ll be along shortly."

  "You know he kidnapped me, right?"

  "I know, love. He’s not all bad. Just wants what he’s owed."

  "And what’s that?"

  Granny only smiled — a patient, knowing curve of her lips that gave nothing away.

  "You’ll find out soon enough, child."

  Before Alice could demand more answers, Cade strode in, leather jacket half-unzipped, and dark circles under his eyes, though every movement sharp and deliberate.

  He kissed Granny’s cheek. "The meeting’s set. We gotta move."

  He turned to Alice, voice calm but firm. "Relax, Alice. I’m not in the habit of hurting women."

  "Just kidnapping them, then?"

  "You’re just a means to an end," Cade said, grinning. "You’ll be home soon... or in Jax’s arms, whichever you prefer."

  Alice considered struggling. But the guard — and Cade — looked ready. She could fight, sure. But she would lose.

  Back at the house, Eddie and the Vipers were hashing out rescue plans, though with no location or terrain intel, it felt like grasping in the dark.

  "We’re not sitting this out." Susy insisted, arms folded as she cornered Eddie.

  "Yes, you are," Eddie said flatly.

  "You need us," Susy countered, cocking a hip. "Face it — we're smarter and sneakier than half your gang."

  "And prettier," Ben chimed in with a grin.

  Eddie sighed heavily. "Last time, Ben walked into a door and this one needed stitches."

  Tony rubbed his still-healing eyebrow. "Still looks rugged though, right?"

  Eddie shot Susy a look. "This isn’t a damn bar fight. Cade’s men don’t play nice."

  "And *we* do?" Tony muttered, earning a sharp elbow from Ben.

  Eddie ignored them, focusing on Susy. "You want to help? Fine. But you follow my lead. No improvising."

  Susy smirked. "Where’s the fun in that?"

  Eddie leaned in, his voice dropping to a growl. "This isn’t about fun. It’s about getting Alice back alive."

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  The room went quiet.

  Susy held his gaze, then nodded. "Fine. What’s the play?"

  Just then, Eddie’s phone buzzed.

  A text from Jax: Cade made contact. Meet at the old Train Yard.

  Across the border, Alice’s arms ached. Cade had tied her to a rusted steam pipe in a crumbling boiler room.

  Concrete walls. Flickering lights. Leaking pipes.

  So much for originality.

  She flexed her ankle, feeling the knife she’d stashed in her boot shift slightly. Maybe…

  Yes, Alice had a thing for knives. While other girls dreamed of riding ponies or collecting soccer trophies, she was learning how to make steel fly. As a teen, blades were stashed in drawers, duct-taped under shelves, and tucked into seams of jackets. Now, she never left the house without at least one in her purse, boot, or strapped to her ankle — just in case.

  But before she could act, commotion erupted down the hall. Shouts. Boots pounding on concrete.

  And then — Jax’s voice. Sharp. Commanding.

  Alice’s heart leapt.

  Cade stepped out of the boiler room and into the big industrial space, flanked on both sides by his men.

  With a mocking bow, Cade greeted Jax, "You came."

  Jax stalked forward, eyes blazing. "Not like you gave me much choice. You’ve invaded my town, my territory, and took my woman. Now tell me what you want."

  Cade just stood there, silent, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he glanced down at his phone.

  "I did what you asked," Jax said, nodding toward Eddie and four Vipers. "Just my right-hand man and a few from my crew."

  Eddie made a slow sweep of the room, taking in the army of Reapers. "What, the rest of your gang stuck in traffic?"

  "Left a few at the border. To make sure you played nice." Cade lifted his phone. "They told me you did. Good boy."

  Jax’s jaw tightened. "Cade, I swear—"

  "I want to renegotiate territory lines, brother."

  Right then, one of Cade’s men appeared from the boiler room, dragging Alice in and shoving her forward like a bargaining chip. Her hair was disheveled, face pale but defiant, eyes darting until they landed on Jax.

  She stumbled, Cade caught her around the waist. She screamed and fought, but he held her fast.

  "Relax, pretty," Cade crooned.

  Jax moved forward, rage in every step, but froze as Cade’s men cocked their guns.

  Alice whimpered. In the struggle, her ponytail had come loose, and Cade started to wrap strands of hair around his finger.

  Jax should have seen this coming. For years, Cade and his gang had tried to take over his turf. But this? This was a full-blown invasion — a blatant violation of code, one that risked igniting a gang war neither of them could walk away from.

  "She’s from my town, on my turf, and under my protection," Jax growled, fists clenched at his sides. "Let. Her. Go."

  Cade barked a laugh. "Don’t try to use those fucked-up old laws on me, Jax. They won’t stick for long."

  "Then maybe we settle this the old-fashioned way," Jax shot back.

  Cade’s grin widened. "Now we’re speaking the same language."

  "An all-out fight. Just you and me. No weapons." Jax said, shrugging off his leather jacket.

  Cade laughed, a low, mocking sound as he shook his head. "That’s not how we settle this." He taunted, eyes glinting. "You love your old laws so much? Prove it." He gestured to Alice. "You want to keep her? Claim her. Right here. Right now." Cade's grin widened. "Save your territory. Save your girl."

  Jax cursed inwardly — he’d walked right into this.

  His gang followed the old laws, the ones his father had laid down when the Vipers first rose: No harm to women or kids. Keep your word. Stay within your own territory. Don’t draw blood without cause. Never start a war you can’t finish… They were rough, sure, but rooted in a twisted kind of honor.

  But this law—the one that let a man claim a woman in front of rival crews to prove dominance—was a relic, outdated and rotten to the core. It turned something sacred into spectacle. Still, Cade had him pinned. And Jax knew it.

  Alice’s stomach twisted. Claim her? Like she was some prize to be won in a pissing contest.

  Her eyes snapped to Jax, searching his face for some sign—of defiance, of resistance, of a plan. But all she saw was the weight of the moment pressing down on him, torn between the rules he lived by and the fire Cade had lit.

  Jax’s jaw tightened. He nodded once.

  "Agreed."

  A ripple of tension passed through the crowd—uneasy shifting, sharp glances.

  Cade’s smile deepened, impossibly smug. "Good boy."

  Jax beckoned. "Come here, Alice."

  Alice wrenched away from Cade’s grip, scrambling toward Jax like a lifeline. He caught her gently, tucking her against his side.

  "I need you to trust me," he whispered.

  "I do," she said fiercely.

  Jax tilted her chin up. His fingers brushed her lips, then her neck — possessive, claiming.

  The room fell away.

  Alice melted into Jax’s embrace, trembling with relief, her fingers clutching the back of his shirt like a sanctuary. For a fleeting moment, nothing else existed—just the safety of his arms and the certainty that she was finally out of danger.

  Jax gripped her hips, dragging Alice flush against him as his mouth claimed hers with a bruising hunger. His tongue swept into her mouth, demanding, tasting, devouring. Alice moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair as his hands roamed her back, possessive and unrelenting. Their kiss was wild, fevered—more a clash of need and desperation than anything gentle—sparking heat that threatened to consume them both, right there in front of everyone.

  But the spell broke when Cade’s men started whistling and jeering. One of them tossed down a blanket between the two gangs, implying that Jax should claim her on it.

  But Jax tensed, his body still shielding Alice, but when he gently tried to guide her down toward the blanket—playing the part Cade expected—her instincts screamed. The moment her back neared the ground, a jolt of panic surged through her, and she twisted, resisting with sudden force.

  "Jax—no," she whispered, eyes wide, fear overtaking trust.

  Before he could reassure her, Cade’s men stepped forward, weapons raised, menace etched in their expressions.

  "Keep going," one of them growled, "or we’ll finish the show our way."