That night, Jax called a war meeting.
The Reapers' war room was hidden beneath their garage. It was dark, lit by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The table was covered with maps, guns, and old notebooks full of names and debts.
Jax pointed at a set of red lines on the map.
“That’s their pipeline,” he said. “The cartel moves half their drugs through the old railyard on Fifth. It’s quiet on Mondays. That’s tomorrow.”
“We burn it?” Nina asked.
“No,” Jax said. “We take it.”
The room went still.
“Take it?” Wraith repeated. “You want to steal from the cartel?”
“I want to humiliate them,” Jax said. “Cut them off. Make them hurt. Let’s send their message back—wrapped in flames.”
In the back of the room, Lena stood with her arms crossed.
Every man in that room had seen blood. They’
