The tactical planning session stretched through the night. Jake spread hand-drawn battle maps across the clubhouse. “Seventeen targets,” he announced, marking locations. “Drug labs, safe houses, money laundering operations, and their communication hub. We hit them all simultaneously at 4 a.m. tomorrow.”
Ghosts studied the assignments. “Thunderdogs take the drug labs on the east side,” Jake continued. “Your people know chemistry; you’ll know how to destroy their product safely.” Thompson nodded.
“Wild Cards handle the money laundering operations. Phoenix, your people have experience with financial systems.” Phoenix Martinez had built her club’s reputation on running successful legitimate businesses alongside their outlaw credibility.
“Iron Wolves take the north side safe houses. Steele, you’ve got the most experience with urban assault.”
“Desert Rats coordinate with local law enforcement to ensure emergency services stay clear.” Diesel Thompson’s connections in security work gave him relationships with supervisors who could be trusted.
“Devil’s Canyon handles the communication hub and El Oro’s personal compound.” Jake had reserved the most dangerous targets for his own people. Eduardo “El Oro” Mendez, the gold-toothed killer, would be his responsibility.
The most critical element was already in motion. Maria and Emma were being moved to a secure federal facility 200 miles away, under FBI protection. Angel would accompany them.
“What about extraction?” asked Phoenix.
“Thirty-minute window,” Jake said, pulling out a stopwatch. “In and out before they can coordinate a response. Anyone not clear by 4:30 a.m. falls back to predetermined rally points.”
The precision required was staggering: forty-seven bikers conducting seventeen simultaneous raids.
“What if they’ve anticipated this?” Ghost asked.
“That’s why we’re not just hitting their operations,” Jake said. “We’re hitting their ability to respond. Communications first, command structure second, then systematic destruction.”
“Equipment check,” Jake ordered. Each team had tactical radios, night vision, and weapons appropriate to their targets. Jake’s team had military-grade communication interceptors to monitor cartel radio traffic.
“Last chance for anyone to walk away,” Jake said. “Once this starts, there’s no going back.”
No one moved. Steele voiced what everyone was thinking. “We crossed that line when we decided to protect the kid. Now we finish what they started.”
Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out his club colors, the Devil’s Canyon patch. With deliberate ceremony, he cut it from his jacket and handed it to Angel before she left. “If we don’t come back, make sure Emma knows that some people still fight for what’s right.”
Angel accepted the patch with trembling hands.
“Time to ride,” Jake said. The sound of forty-seven motorcycles starting simultaneously echoed through the pre-dawn darkness like thunder.
The coordinated assault began at exactly 4 a.m. Across the city, seventeen teams moved against their targets.
“Thunder One, target acquired,” came Thompson’s voice from a drug lab. “Beginning demolition sequence.”
“Wildcard Leader, financial center secured,” reported Phoenix. “Downloading hard drives now.”
“Ironwolf Alpha, encountering resistance at safe house three. Request backup.”
Jake monitored the radio traffic while leading his own team toward El Oro’s compound, a fortified warehouse. Ghost rode beside him, intercepting Serpiente communications. “They’re scrambling,” Ghost reported. “Calling for reinforcements, but they don’t know how many targets are under attack.”
The compound loomed ahead. Jake counted six guards on the perimeter, but thermal imaging suggested twice that number inside. “Bulldog, take the communications array,” Jake ordered. “Cut their ability to coordinate.”
Bulldog moved like a shadow, taking the first sentry down silently with a sleeper hold. Jake’s rules were clear: eliminate threats, but avoid unnecessary killing.
The main assault began when Wrench disabled the compound’s electrical system, plunging the area into darkness. Jake’s team moved through the shadows with night vision, clearing buildings.
El Oro was in the central office, desperately trying to reestablish communication, screaming orders in Spanish that no one could hear.
“Eduardo Mendez,” Jake called from the doorway.
El Oro spun, his gold teeth gleaming in the green glow of Jake’s night vision as he reached for a pistol. But Jake’s weapon was already trained on him. “Don’t,” Jake said simply. “You’ve caused enough pain.”
El Oro lunged for his gun. Jake’s shot was precise and final. El Oro collapsed, the man who had haunted a little girl’s nightmares reduced to just another casualty.
“Primary target eliminated,” Jake reported. “Searching for intelligence.”…
