“Here.”

She placed it in Cole’s hand.

“This is what they wanted. All of it.”

She looked toward Leo.

“He found it inside the motorcycle.”

Cole stared at the tiny object resting in his palm.

Something so small had destroyed lives, started wars, and kept a family running for eight years.

Then he looked into Sarah’s eyes.

“Sarah, listen to me.”

His voice was calm but firm.

“They’re holding Rravhem somewhere in the Mojave Valley.”

Sarah froze.

“He’s alive.”

Her eyes widened.

Shock gave way to a desperate, almost unbearable spark of hope.

“Please...” she whispered.

“Cole... bring him back to me.”

Cole closed his hand around the memory card.

“No matter what it takes.”

Chapter 8: The Night Raid in Mojave

The sun sank below the horizon, leaving blood-red streaks across the Nevada sky.

The suffocating heat of the desert disappeared quickly, replaced by the bone-deep cold of night.

More than fifty Harley-Davidsons left the Oasis diner in a massive convoy.

They rode south.

Straight toward the Mojave Valley.

This time, they were no longer defending anything.

They were ghosts riding for revenge.

After two hours of tearing across the highway at brutal speed, the abandoned Mojave industrial complex emerged beneath the cold moonlight.

It was enormous.

Dead.

A maze of rusted smokestacks, collapsed warehouses, and gigantic machines that stood motionless in the darkness like the skeletons of prehistoric monsters.

Scattered guard posts belonging to the Syndicate were illuminated by weak floodlights.

Cole raised one hand.

The convoy stopped two miles from the compound.

Headlights off.

Engines silent.

The bikers gathered in complete darkness, with only the desert wind whistling through gaps in the rocks.

Cole spread a map across the seat of his Harley and switched on a small flashlight.

“Listen carefully.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the sharp authority of a blade.

“They’re keeping Rravhem beneath the old foundry.”

He pointed at the western side of the map.

“Jimmy. Jax. Miller. Take a team around the west side. Cut the power to the entire complex and neutralize the outer guard stations.”

He looked at Nomad.

“You and the Vegas crew hit the main gate.”

Nomad grinned.

“Start the bikes. Turn every headlight on. Make as much noise as you can and throw enough firepower at them to make them think the gates of hell just opened.”

Nomad cracked his knuckles.

“Leave that to me.”

He smiled wider.

“I’ll make them think the U.S. Army just invaded.”

“Good.”

Cole pointed toward a drainage system marked beneath the facility.

“Wyatt and I are going in through the underground storm drains. While the Syndicate is busy dealing with you, we’ll get inside the foundry and bring Rravhem out.”

Cole folded the map.

“Move.”

The plan unfolded with the precision of a Swiss watch.

Fifteen minutes later, the entire Mojave industrial complex suddenly went black.

Every floodlight died.

Every building disappeared into darkness.