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SEVENTEEN

TREVAN

“Already warned you all that this one is going to be touchy.” Silas’s low voice reverberated off the walls of Church. “There will be at least twenty men inside that building, and these motherfuckers are not to be underestimated. They are vicious. Cruel. Wicked.”

He sat at the head of the rambling table in his high-backed chair, maps and snapshots from surveillance footage of the warehouse we were hitting that Cash Cunningham had provided spread out in front of him.

I sat to his right and Phoenix on his left, and Brody had earned his position to my right.

The other sixteen chairs were occupied by Crows of varying ranks and ages, and another twelve Crows stood against the macabre images that crawled the walls.

The cavernous room was dim yet boiling with fire.

Aggression and anxiety a noxious compound that hung in a disorienting cloud from the rafters.

“I don’t want anyone getting cocky or complacent. These assholes need to go to ground, and I don’t want a single one of you going with them.”

Grunts of acknowledgement went up from the Crows.

“You know your leads?” Silas eyed each one of his men, his gaze roaming around the room.

There were three contingencies.

Silas at the head of one, Phoenix at the head of the second, me leading the third.

Each of us would have three additional men riding with us.

The rest were assigned to protecting the compound while we were away.

A slew of men and it still made me itch. Thinking of leaving Elena here alone. Hating that I wasn’t the one assigned to stand in front of the monsters that roamed this world.

“We’ve got it, Prez.” Fuse dipped his head.

“Good. Want this clean. In and out without a trace. And no one left standing. We’re already dealing with the fallout of that.”

His expression turned grim, and my spirit roared in my chest.

The fact that Shayne was out there.

Did he know that we’d roll tonight? That the compound would be less secure than normal? Was he watching as Elena and I left the store?

Irritation had me itching in my seat.

Phoenix itched, too. His giant frame quaking with the need to pour out fury and hate.

“Got no issue with that.” His words tumbled like the grinding of stone.

Silas dipped his head. “Know it. We just have to be extra cautious. One loose end is too many.”

“Don’t worry, brother,” Brody said, all the easiness he normally wore shredded like old rags. Bare brutality underneath. “Every thread will be snipped.”

Silas’s nod was clipped, and he lifted his chin. “Remember why we do what we do.”

It was a low, tolling command.

A reminder and encouragement.

The heels of nineteen fists hit the table. A thunder that rumbled below the ragged chants.