"Tonight's the night, boys!"
Rayzen's voice boomed through the old garage, bouncing off oil-stained walls and half-fixed bikes.The Black Fangs roared back with whistles and revving engines.
He jumped up onto a crate, that signature wild grin on his face.
"We're hitting the Vultures hard. Kael thinks he can outsmart us, box us in? Nah. We break boxes."
Laughter echoed around him—except from two faces in the corner.
Finn, silent as ever, leaned against a workbench, arms crossed, eyes scanning a map spread out beside him.He didn't cheer. Didn't smile.But his mind? Already fifteen steps ahead.
Rayzen nodded to him. "Got the exits covered?"
Finn didn't look up. "I marked three. They'll block the east. We hit from the back. Less visibility."
Rayzen smirked. "That's why I keep you around, genius."
And then there was Jax.
Small, jittery, and currently hiding behind a pile of tires.
"Uh—guys?" he squeaked. "We sure about this? Like, actually sure? What if they've got knives? Or guns? Or, I don't know… a tank?"
Rayzen barked a laugh. "If they got a tank, I wanna ride it."
More laughter.
Jax groaned. "Why am I here…"
Finn, without looking up, muttered, "Because you're too scared to leave."
Jax blinked. "...rude but accurate."
Rayzen grabbed his jacket, tossed it over his shoulder, and looked out the garage door.The night was calling.
But for one flicker of a moment,So did a memory.
Alea.
That girl who looked at him like he was the problem she didn't have time to solve.
He shook his head. Not now.
"We ride in fifteen!" he yelled.
Engines screamed to life.
Three friends, one gang, and a war waiting in the dark.