Battles are won with fists. Wars are won with minds. I was determined to keep my hands to myself for the duration of the night, no matter how twitchy I got. With a smile on my face, I welcomed whoever I saw approaching the diner. Some of the more uncertain locals looked between the patch on my cut and down at my feet, never quite comfortable enough to make eye contact. Most, however, had changed their opinions since they’d realized we’d almost been victims of a huge explosion ourselves.

Ayda was tucked away safely in the crowds of the unusually packed diner. Her hands were delicately twirling a plastic glass of champagne as she spoke to whoever commanded her attention. She was getting good at acting. To anyone else, she probably looked relaxed and at ease. To me, she looked edgy. I could tell by the number of times she went to tuck her hair behind her ears, even though there was no more to push back. I could tell by the way she shifted her weight from foot to foot and the way she constantly looked at the ceiling when she spoke, trying to gather some fortitude and courage from the gods, no doubt. She tried her hardest to not keep looking at me, but it was pointless. The second our eyes connected, her shoulders would relax, and a small smile would play on her lips.

I was always by the entrance of Rusty’s, standing in place so I could see inside the diner and outside, where the Hounds of Babylon and their bikes were filling up the parking lot with laughter and jokes befitting a fake sixteenth birthday slash engagement party. The night was getting darker, and with the darkness came a sense of dread. Not because I was expecting anything bad to happen, but I’d lived a life that led me to remember what the shadows could bring with them at every turn. That morning I’d been a man in love, high on the idea of a future spent curled around the woman I adored. That night I was the president of The Hounds of Babylon, and everything good in my world was pushed to the back of my mind to concentrate like a leader should. The crown became heavy some days.

Tonight was one of them.

I wore it with a smile, regardless. There was power in position, and there was adrenaline in this MC life.

Slater was standing at the bottom of the steps in the parking lot, while I stood at the top. Jedd was at the end of the lot, talking to a group of prospects and trying to convince them all that he had, in fact, knocked me out cold during a boxing match one time. They weren’t buying it. Neither was I. Jedd glanced at Slater and gave him a nod. Slater nodded in return before he glanced up at me and did the same. I gave him a wink of acknowledgment and we returned to our previous positions.

“Everything clear?” Sutton asked as he appeared out of nowhere, walking like the Clint Eastwood he loved so much.

“For now,” I muttered quietly, watching him climb the stairs before he came to a stop in front of me.

“Any sign of anyone from Babylon High?”

There was a tension in his voice. One I understood. The only thing keeping him going right then was the idea of getting hold of the bastard who touched his daughter. The only thing keeping him focused was the idea of ripping that guy’s fingers off and shoving them up his ass to see how he liked being violated with the same rough hands.

“Not yet,” I answered with a shake of my head.

“It’s Tate’s birthday party. They should be her—”

I cut him off with a firm slap on the shoulder, glancing behind him as I saw a group of football players walking down the street, laughing and joking. They were at ease, each one of them jumping around, roughing someone’s hair or slapping their friend on the back. All their faces were bright and cheerful, like typical teenagers who didn’t get out much and were desperate to party with the big, bad MC.

Sutton turned around slowly on hearing their cheering and laughter.

“Look for the one who doesn’t look happy to be here,” he growled through gritted teeth.

“Chief?”

He side-eyed me, his body rigid, filled with revenge. “What?”

“The bad guys usually wear pretty deceptive masks. Don’t discount someone who seems at ease. Look for the one who is relaxed or cocksure of himself.”

“Like you?”

“Careful, Sutton. I’m many things, but I’m not one of those guys.”

He had the decency to look a little ashamed, his slow blink and tense jaw somewhat of an apology before he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Low blow. I didn’t—”

“I took no offense,” I reassured him.

I didn’t. I was angry on his behalf. I could only imagine the uncontrollable rage I’d feel if I were him.

“Go and make yourself look like you want to be here,” I whispered quietly before I pushed him inside, while I went back to my post on the very top step.

Slater glanced up at me, and I gave him another nod as I stood with my legs apart and arms folded firmly across my chest. I’d worn a short-sleeved white T-shirt under my cut on purpose, wanting every man and possible Nav to be certain who the president of the HOB was. My new tattoo told everyone. There was no hiding.

Jedd welcomed the group at the end of the lot, and they made their way through slowly, each one looking at the bikes and the men surrounding them in awe. I didn’t see him right away. He stayed behind. But the second Jacob’s arrogant as fuck silhouette appeared under the streetlights, I inhaled a slow, thankful breath and held it in my chest for a second.

We’d lured one of them to the party.

I looked behind him as subtly as I could, but there were no Navs in sight. No bikes that didn’t belong to us. Nothing but teenage athletes with way too much excitement in their toes as they bounced closer.

I was so pumped on adrenaline, watching everyone approach, I actually flinched when Ayda’s delicate hand touched the bare skin of my tensed bicep.

Her eyes scanned the crowd of teens making their way to the door, and her smile brightened when Tate’s best friend Rubin peeled himself away from the group to give her a nod in greeting. Then she saw Jacob and fought her natural instinct to stiffen.

“Hey, you,” she said directly to me, her hand tightening on my arm.

I leaned down, offering my cheek for a kiss while I kept my eyes on Jacob Hove who was smirking at all my men like he had nobody to fear.

“Darlin’,” I whispered.

“Do you need anything? A beer?” she asked, angling herself toward me.

“A beer would be good.”

I knew she could sense the shift in me, but I didn’t want her to worry, so I turned my head to give her my full attention and offered her my sincerest smile.

“Please,” I added.

“Seeing as you said please.” She grinned back at me, resting her cheek against my arm before she disappeared inside, stopping Jacob from getting within five feet of her.

I stood tall again and watched as he approached, coming to a stop at the bottom of the steps and shielding his face with the backs of his hands.

“Ah, not the face, not the face,” he cried out. “Please, Mr. Bad MC man, don’t hit the face again. I’m so sorry I nailed your woman in a previous life.”

Ten… I gritted my teeth and started counting backward, forcing a smile to my tight mouth.

“Sorry I nailed your mom.”

Jacob dropped his hands and rolled his eyes. “Is that it? Not even a threat?”

“Why would I threaten you?” I asked him calmly, while inside my head I’d just reached seven. “That would imply that you mean something. Here, tonight, you don’t.”

“Then I guess I’m allowed to the party,” he said like a twelve-year-old before he bounced up the steps. If I didn’t know any better—and I didn’t—I could have sworn he was high.

I narrowed my eyes once he was in front of me, and I saw Slater’s cut from the corner of my vision before he turned to look at me and raise his chin in question. I gave a subtle shake of my head, returning my attention to Jacob. He’d noticed our silent communication, though, and glanced back at Slater.

“You’re kidding? You guys have got me on watch?” He huffed out a twisted laugh before he thumbed his own chest. “Little old me?”

Four…

Taking a step closer, I kept my arms folded across my chest, too worried about what they’d do if I set them free. “I have no problem you being here, Hove, but drop the shit or you’ll regret it. Do you understand me?”

“Quaking in my boots,” he pushed out through his ‘O’ shaped mouth as he pretended to shudder. “I’ll be a good boy. I promise.” With that, he slapped me on my back and turned to go inside, just as my mind whispered…

One…

My jaw was rigid, and my eyes narrowed as I looked down the stairs at Jedd and held my breath.

How I was going to get through tonight without killing that son-of-a-bitch, I had no idea.