Phantom forced a compliant smile to his lips when Axle gestured for him to come closer.

"Come on, we're short a fourth guy. Loser picks last which chick he gets for the night."

With wiggling eyebrows, he nodded toward the group of four girls watching them. They danced to the music, letting their hands slide over each other's bodies. Nobody batted an eye. It still felt unfair, even though Phantom didn't know any different.

Phantom didn't want to win or lose.

But he also didn't want to stand out, so he had no choice but to join his brothers. Even though he had his patch, he still felt like an outsider—and working in the office all day didn't help.

Since Raine had quit, Phantom had taken over the venue's bookings. He didn't mind reaching out to artists—and it would be fucking amazing if they started drawing bigger crowds and he could one day invite real, well-known bands—but it meant he spent a lot of time alone.

And that, just when two new Warriors had stopped by their charter.

Rayo and Wolff were both Nomads—Warriors without a fixed charter, roaming the country. Rayo had decided to settle here two months ago and had become a regular part of the club. Wolff—a friend of his—had blown in just last week. They were both in their thirties. Probably still ten years older than Phantom, but a smaller age gap than with the rest.

Martinez and George were both in their seventies, and the rest were over fifty too.

Axle had quickly bonded with Rayo, and he seemed to get along with Wolff as well. And even though Axle was still a total dick, Phantom couldn't ignore him.

So he joined the three of them. He'd figure out what to do about the girls later. Hopefully Lola would show up soon. It had been a few days since he'd spoken to her.

"What are we playing?"

"Around the board."

From 1 to the Bull's Eye. It wasn't a complicated game. Phantom wasn't great at darts; he relied on dumb luck.

"So, who are you picking if you win?" Wolff asked, grinning like the wolf he was named after. "That hot blonde with the big tits?"

Phantom tried not to roll his eyes. The guy sounded like a teenage boy. He cast a quick glance at the four girls, one of whom winked at him.

"I don't expect to win, so I'll take whatever's left."

Axle threw an arm around his shoulders and grinned. "Phantom likes licking up the leftovers."

Phantom raised an eyebrow. He had no idea what that shitty remark was based on.

"That's more your thing," he snapped, nodding at the brand on Axle's arm. "You're the one who got branded for acting like a disloyal mutt."

Axle stared at him. Fire flared in his eyes. Silently, he tugged his sleeve down a bit further, even though the brand hadn't been visible.

"You got branded?" Wolff asked. "What'd you do?"

"I went too far protecting a friend," Axle said through clenched teeth, never taking his eyes off Phantom. "Not something you'd know much about, huh?"

The words hit like a punch to the face. Phantom wanted to snap that Axle had driven his best friend away with his idiotic homophobia, but that wasn't a subject he wanted to bring up in front of the two newcomers.

"Let's just play," he insisted.

The new guys nodded, seemingly just as uninterested in drama. Still, the tension was thick since Phantom showed up, and he couldn't shake the feeling that Wolff and Rayo blamed him for it.

Phantom tried to focus on the game. Still, he hated this part of being in the club. The constant need to fit in, the pressure to belong. Like being back in fucking high school.

He doubted his decision to join the club more often than he liked to admit. But it was too late. He already had his patch, and with that came a vow—to give his life for the club. Saying he didn't feel like he belonged, that this wasn't the brotherhood he'd expected, probably wasn't a good enough reason to walk away. Especially not so soon.

He just had to push through. Find his place. At least make a connection with these two, because he sure as hell wouldn't get anywhere with Axle.

Phantom took the darts from Rayo and was satisfied when he hit the number one. They kept going like that for a while.

"So why are you a Nomad, anyway?" Phantom asked Wolff. At first, it was just meant as small talk, but as soon as the words were out, he wondered if it was something he should consider for himself. Did you need to earn a certain rank in the club to do that?

Wolff turned toward him, his long blond hair brushing Phantom's shoulder. He shrugged. "I don't ride a motorcycle just to stay in the same place. A few months here, a few months there, helping out where I can. Suits me fine."

"What about you? Why'd you decide to stick around?" Phantom turned his attention to Rayo.

The Warrior grinned. "Because of the strip club you guys own, obviously." He grabbed a beer from the standing table, took a swig, then admitted, "I like touring too. But after a while, I started wanting a place of my own. Always being a guest starts to wear on you." He smirked. "Why? Thinking of going Nomad?"

Axle snorted. "He just got his patch. He barely gets to polish his own boots, let alone wander off."

Rayo laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Give it time, man." He took the darts from Axle and landed three perfect throws in a row. Phantom figured he'd be the winner.

"Phantom!"

Phantom turned his head. Lola hurried over and threw her arms around him.

"Carla just called me!"

Carla. The missing girl.

He snapped to attention. "Where is she? Did she get away?"

Lola let out a sigh. "Her cousin brought her back to Mexico. She's supposed to marry some shady dude, turns out that's what she was running from." She ran a hand through her dyed hair. "I feel bad for her. But at least we know where she is now. I think she's accepted it."

A family matter, then. Phantom didn't know how to feel about that. Would the club blame him? They'd broken into a cop's house. Phantom had even killed the guy. And for what?

That guy was an asshole. He abused his own kid. Phantom had no reason to feel remorse. The club probably thought the same as him: good riddance.

Just like Alvarez had predicted, they'd swept it under the rug to keep the abuse from becoming public knowledge.

"Okay. At least now we know what happened to her."

She smiled at him. "Thanks again for your help."

Phantom smiled back. He slung an arm around her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "You sticking around?"

It felt wrong to give her a sultry look—but he hoped she'd be his excuse when the dart game ended.

"Your turn, man." Axle jabbed him unnecessarily hard in the ribs. "Bro before hoes, remember?"

Phantom snorted and bit back a comment that would've only made things worse.

"Carla's safe. That's what Lola just told me." He threw the darts he'd been handed at the board. "I'll be right back. Gotta let the Pres know."

As soon as they lost track of Carla, the search had fizzled out. Still, Phantom had no doubt Alvarez would want to hear this immediately. He walked over to the man, nerves fluttering in his stomach.

He couldn't help it—Alvarez still made him nervous. The man was a decent man, and the VP and Sergeant at Arms standing with him were too. But Phantom didn't know them well, and the mess from six months ago—when the Sons' president betrayed his own men—had done little to earn his trust.

He paused at a short distance, unsure if he should interrupt. He waited until Alvarez gave him a subtle chin lift—his silent way of asking what was up.

Phantom stepped closer and resisted the urge to take a deep breath or puff up his chest. Just be yourself. Anything else, and he'll see right through you.

"Lola told me her friend's safe. A family member brought her back to Mexico. Looks like it was a false alarm. I'm sorry."

Alvarez leaned in, placing a hand on his shoulder and looking him straight in the eye. "No false alarm, kid. We're a brotherhood. You're part of that now—you've got the patch to prove it." He tapped it with his finger. "If you need help, you come to us. Even for the smallest things—and this wasn't small at all." He gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. "Got that?"

Phantom nodded. The words landed, and he exhaled in relief. A weight lifted from his shoulders.

Alvarez wasn't treating him any differently than the others. In fact, he was making a point of saying Phantom belonged.

"Good." Alvarez still held his gaze. "And don't let my son convince you otherwise."

Sometimes Phantom forgot that Axle was the president's son. They were nothing alike. One always seemed ready to kick him down—while the other kept trying to lift him up.

He nodded again.

Alvarez smiled, then gave him a nudge. "Now go—the boys are waiting. Don't let them win."