Got it — here's Chapter Six — "Firebreak."
This is where the tension burns hotter: Cole takes the fight to the Vultures, while Elena faces her own fear of being left behind. The tone stays cinematic, raw, and em
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Part 1 – Cole's POV
By dawn, the clubhouse was alive with motion — men strapping on cuts, checking weapons, tuning engines. The air vibrated with purpose.
Cole stood by his bike, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers, eyes on the map Deke had spread over the hood of an old truck.
"There," Deke said, stabbing a finger at the backroads cutting through a stretch of scrubland. "Old mill outside Longreach. Word is the Vultures been movin' gear through there. Could be where they're stashin' girls before shippin' them out."
Cole ground his cigarette out on the metal. "Then that's where we hit first."
Deke looked up. "You're sure?"
Cole nodded once. "We don't wait for them to come knockin' again. We burn the trail before it hits our doorstep."
The men around him shifted, some grim, some eager. They'd all lost something to the Vultures — friends, brothers, peace of mind. And under Cole's calm tone, there was fire waiting to burn.
He strapped on his helmet, then paused as he caught sight of movement at the clubhouse door.
Elena.
She stood barefoot on the porch, arms crossed in his hoodie, watching the gathering like it was a storm she couldn't stop. Her hair blew across her face in the wind, and for a moment, all the noise faded.
He told himself not to go to her.
Then he went anyway.
"Morning," he said quietly, stopping at the bottom of the steps.
"Morning," she echoed. Her eyes were clear, steady. "You're going after them."
"Yeah."
"Because of me."
Cole's jaw flexed. "Because of what they're doin'. You just made me see it clearer."
She looked down, biting her lip. "I don't want anyone getting hurt because of me."
He stepped closer, his voice low and rough. "Someone already did. Now we make sure it ends there."
Elena met his eyes, the wind tugging at her hair. "You always this stubborn?"
"Pretty much," he said, a ghost of a smile breaking through.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then he touched the brim of his helmet. "Lock the door behind me."
She nodded, watching him walk away as the roar of engines swallowed the morning.
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Part 2 – Elena's POV
The clubhouse felt too quiet after they left.
Elena wandered through the halls, every creak of the floorboards making her flinch. The smell of oil and smoke clung to everything — to the walls, to Cole's hoodie still hanging loose on her shoulders.
She stopped at the window overlooking the yard. The dust still hung in the air where they'd ridden out, fading into the horizon.
She hated this — waiting. Hiding. Being the reason men went off to risk their lives.
She thought about what Cole had said — You just made me see it clearer.
There'd been something in his voice, something that sounded almost like faith. And it scared her more than the Vultures ever had.
She went back to her room and sat on the bed, staring at the coffee mug he'd left her days ago.
The one she hadn't washed.
The clock ticked slow. Outside, thunder rolled again — the second storm in less than a week.
When a knock hit the door, she jumped.
"Yeah?"
It was Deke's voice, low and rough. "Everything all right up here?"
She opened the door, half relieved. "Fine. Just… waiting."
He nodded. "Ain't easy, huh?"
"No."
He studied her for a moment. "You're tougher than you look."
She gave a weak smile. "You're the second person to say that."
"Yeah, well," Deke said, scratching his beard, "he ain't wrong. Just… be ready if things go loud tonight."
"Loud?"
"Let's just say Cole doesn't do quiet payback."
Then he was gone, boots echoing down the hall, leaving her with the sound of her heartbeat and a thousand thoughts she couldn't outrun.
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Part 3 – Dual POV
By nightfall, the storm was rolling in full.
Lightning split the sky over the mill, painting the rusted metal in flashes of white and blue. Rain hit hard against the tin roof, drowning the sound of engines creeping closer.
Cole signaled to the men — hands up, then forward. They moved like shadows, boots silent, guns drawn.
Inside, the Vultures weren't ready.
What followed wasn't chaos — it was precision. Controlled fury. The Reapers stormed the mill, cutting through the operation like a blade through wire.
No screams. No names. Just thunder, rain, and vengeance.
When it was over, the storm still raged outside, but the fire in Cole's chest had burned down to embers. They'd found evidence — ledgers, chains, enough to choke a dozen men in court if the law ever cared to listen.
He stared at the carnage, soaked to the bone, jaw tight. It wasn't enough.
It would never be enough.
Deke clapped him on the shoulder. "You did good, Prez. We hit 'em hard."
Cole didn't answer. His mind was already back at the clubhouse. Back with her.
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Meanwhile, Elena stood by the window, lightning flashing across her face. The storm made the glass tremble, and in it, her reflection looked like someone else — someone stronger.
Then, faint and distant, she heard it — the rumble of bikes through the rain.
They were coming back.
When the first headlight broke through the darkness, something inside her uncoiled.
Cole pulled in first, cutting the engine, rain dripping from his jacket. Their eyes met through the window — just for a second — and it was enough.
He was alive. And that simple fact felt like a miracle.
As the others unloaded, Cole lingered under the awning, looking up at the rain. He felt the weight of the night on his shoulders, the ache in his body — and the strange, steady pull toward the light still burning behind that upstairs window.
He didn't understand what was happening between them — only that it was real. And it scared him more than any gun ever could.
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