Raptor Savage didn’t put up with losers. He didn’t put up with laziness, and he didn’t put up with liars. Today I was all three.

I moved toward doom at the pace of an inchworm. Each step I took toward home caused my backpack to slap uncomfortably against my butt, but that was nothing compared to the ass whoopin’ I’d get from Dad when I got home.

My report on Abraham Lincoln had been due today, the same report I’d told my mom I’d finished. That meant I was a liar. I hadn’t done the stupid report. Hiding out in the shop and listening to the War Birds talk strategy was more fun than writing about a dead president. That made me lazy and a loser because I got a big fat zero for my grade. Dad would tell me how important the report was, and I would disagree. How was Abraham Lincoln supposed to teach me anything? He was dead.

Ask me to write about the gun that killed him, and I would have brought home an easy A. Guns I knew.

My backpack slipped from my shoulders and dragged across the gravel parking lot while I wound through the bikes lined up like dominoes. This many bikes at the club meant trouble. Something was up that would keep Dad busy. Maybe I wouldn’t get a butt blistering after all.

I wondered whether Dad, as the president of the War Birds Motorcycle Club, felt the same pressures as the real president. The club was more than a club. It was a family. This was Dad’s world, and he ran it like he was God, or at least that’s what I’d heard my mom say once.

He made the laws. He made the rules. He handed down the punishments. Raptor Savage could make people shake in their sneakers with the lift of an eyebrow. I got that look a lot.

Mom said I was spirited, and it would serve me well when I grew up and took over the club. Dad always put an “if” before that statement. “If he grows up,” he’d say, as if my next breath was in question.

I found Mom out back with my brothers, Silas and Decker. Next to them was that pesky little girl, Sparrow. She always looked up at me like I was a movie star. She was like a sticky booger I couldn’t get off my finger.

“Glad you’re home, sweetie.” Mom always called me sweetie. She never did it in front of anyone because that would make me seem like a sissy, but I liked when she said it. “Today is Dad’s big meeting, so I need you to hang out here with the kids. I have to get inside and serve beer.”

I looked around the parking lot at the motorcycles I didn’t recognize. “Who’s here?”

“Friends of your father’s, sweetie. It has nothing to do with you.”

I glared at the kids playing in the dirt. “That’s not true.” My voice didn’t sound like eight-year-old me. It sounded more like six-year-old Silas when Mom told him to take a bath. “I have to babysit, and that means it has everything to do with me.” I hated babysitting. Silas was fine. He was six and took care of himself. But Decker was just a baby, which meant diapers, and now there was Sparrow, and she stuck to me like gum on a shoe.

I threw my backpack toward the stairs. It skidded across the gravel and clunked to a stop at the bottom step. “Is this about Goose?” Goose was a War Bird who’d been killed last week after a cop stopped him for speeding. I didn’t understand it—Goose was a good guy.

Mom looked over her shoulder toward the club entrance. “Not now, Ryker.”

Uh oh. She’d called me Ryker, which meant she was losing her patience. I looked toward the kids and groaned. “Okay, but is this about the cop who shot Goose?” Officer Stuart had said Goose pulled a gun first, but that had to be a big fat lie. Goose would never shoot the police. Dad’s words replayed through my head. That cop has been targeting motorcycle gangs. His goal is to clean up Fury.

Fury was a small mountain town. The entire town couldn’t fill up the high school sports stadium. How much cleaning up did we need?

“Dad invited the Rebels over to discuss the building tension in the area. He needs to get it under control before more people get hurt. I need you to help me out.” Mom put her fingers under my chin and closed my open mouth. “Take good care of them.” She didn’t wait for me to say another word. She turned and walked toward the club. The club that would someday be mine.

“Hi, Hawk,” Sparrow said, using my nickname. She pulled on my hand. Her fingers were pink and sticky. “Want some candy?” She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a piece of lint-covered licorice.

“Gross.” I yanked it from her little fist and tossed it toward the parking lot. “It’s dirty.”

“It’s mine.” She took off toward the candy that lay in the dirt.

I caught up with her and circled my arm around her waist, swiping her off the ground.

The rumble of motorcycle engines caused me to stop dead in my tracks. Pulling in front of the club were at least ten more Rebels. That was too many.

I raced back to the playpen where Decker slept. Silas drew in the dirt with a stick. I dropped Sparrow to her sandaled feet.

“Silas, watch them for a minute.” I’d never seen the Rebels up close, and I didn’t want to miss my chance.

He looked up at me with Dad’s eyes. Steel gray eyes that said it all even before the words came out. “You’re supposed to stay with us.”

Sparrow stomped her little feet, causing the soles of her shoes to light up. “Yeah.” She looked up at me with the crazy cool eyes only she had. “You’re supposed to sit with me.” One blue and one brown eye begged me to stay.

“I’ll be right back. Stay here.” I turned and ran to the rear of the club where there was a loose board. It moved just enough for me to squeeze into the storage room.

I took one step at a time, tiptoeing toward the area where Dad held meetings.

While I hid behind the crates, I heard them talking about rival gangs and the sheriff.

The place smelled like leather and sweat.

I peeked over the crate of brake pads and counted the heads I didn’t recognize. There were twenty-five Rebels in our nest. This was epic. Never had there been so many enemies in one place and no one needed a doctor.

Something creaked behind me, and I swung around to see Sparrow squeezing through the hole I’d pried loose months ago. Little brat. “What are you doing?” I whispered. “Go back,” I gritted through my teeth.

“No.” She said it a little too loud, so I covered her mouth with my palm.

“Shh.” I removed my hand and put a finger to my lips. “This is a secret. You can stay if you can be quiet and keep a secret.”

She nodded, and I went back to my hiding place. She tucked up next to me, and we listened. Or, really, I listened while she peeled the stickers from the boxes in front of us. At least she was being quiet.

All the War Birds were there. Well, all but Goose. Kite, Dad’s vice president, screamed about being targeted. Some of the members paced the room. They reminded me of the time I cornered a stray cat in the garage. Its hair stood on its back while its tail twitched from side to side.

I’d heard someone once say the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I never knew what that meant until now. The air was thick like Mom’s pudding. I could feel it like a heavy brick sitting on my chest.

The Rebels said it wasn’t their problem, but Dad told them it wouldn’t be long before it spread to their club. He asked for a truce between the two clubs until the problem with the police was under control. They didn’t need to be fighting wars from every side.

Mom crossed in front of me with a tray full of bottled beer. I ducked lower so she wouldn’t see me. Sparrow’s mom, Finch, followed behind, picking up the empties. I didn’t know her real name. No one went by their real name at the club. We were War Birds with names like Hawk, Raptor, Kite, and Vulture. The women always chose stupid sissy birds like Warble, Robin, or Sparrow. I looked down at the little bird next to me and softened a bit. She wasn’t so bad. She was like me—spirited.

My eyes shifted to the door as it burst open. In walked a few cops. Dad jumped up and yelled, “This is a private meeting.”

One deputy laid his hand on his gun. “We’re here to make sure there’s not a problem.”

“No problems.” Dad spread his arms out wide. I looked to his belt, where he always carried his gun, but it wasn’t there. He was in a room of enemies—unprotected. Or so it seemed. I knew Dad, and he no doubt had something shoved up his sleeve.

Mom popped the tops off two beers and handed them to the cops, and to my surprise, they took them. I guess they didn’t have to obey the rules. They were cops.

Finch passed in front of us, and Sparrow sprang to her feet. I knew she would bolt toward her mother so I picked her up and tossed her backwards toward the broken panel. She stumbled against one box, knocking it down, and a loud bang shattered the silence.

Everything changed in an instant. Guns drew and shots fired—lots of shots. Bullets flew through the air with the hiss of a mosquito, only a thousand times louder. Metal hit metal with the ding of a pinball machine. Wood splintered from the rafters above.

I watched in horror while people fell to the ground in front of me. Sparrow screamed and tugged on my leg. I picked her up and crouched with her behind the brake boxes. They acted like a shield.

In front of me, my mother crumpled to the ground. I ran toward her as the blood pooled beneath her and seeped out next to her body.

“Where are your brothers?” Her words came out in a whisper. She was hard to hear with the popping sounds filling the air. I crushed Sparrow beneath me and hugged the cement floor.

“Outside. They’re safe outside.” I reached for Mom, trying to find her wound. Sparrow popped her head from under me and screamed.

Mom’s eyes grew wide. “Get her out. Save her. Save your brothers.” Her words sounded wet. “Promise.”

The wooden beams splintered, sending pieces through the air. Clouds of white chalk burst from the walls. My heart exploded in my chest, and tears ran down my cheeks. “Mommy,” I cried as her head fell to the side. I turned her face toward mine and wiped the blood that trickled from her mouth. “I promise,” I said as the light in her eyes died.

Bullets buzzed past me as people collapsed to the cement. Sparrow screamed above the noise. I swept her into my arms and ran toward the door. Hot fire shot through my shoulder. I stumbled and fell. Blood was everywhere. My sneakers slid on the smooth cement floor while I scrambled to stand. I slipped and fell over and over again. Sparrow lay beside me, but her cries had stopped. She was quiet. Dead quiet. Blood seeped across her yellow dress like spilled ink on paper. The bright sunflower pattern disappeared in the crimson pool.

I’d failed. I’d failed Sparrow. I’d failed my brothers. I’d failed to keep my mom’s final wish. I promised myself that I’d never fail anyone again, and then everything turned to black.