He kicked the door right beside the lock with the full force of his heavy boot.

CRACK!

The wooden door frame splintered instantly, throwing the door wide open into the dim, stale room.

Barrett surged through the doorway, his massive frame filling the frame, with Axle and the officers right behind him.

Inside, standing beside a overturned lamp, was Curtis "Rattler" Briggs. He was gaunt, dirty, and wild-eyed, gripping a young woman by her hair with his left hand while holding a revolver in his right.

The woman—Clara's mother—was bruised and trembling, her face pale with terror.

The moment Rattler's eyes met Barrett's, his face drained of all color, the revolver in his hand shaking violently as he recognized the giant standing before him.

"Mammoth...?" Rattler gasped, his voice cracking with pure panic. "How the hell...?"

"Put the gun down, Rattler," Barrett said, his voice flat, icy, and completely devoid of mercy. "You're surrounded by two hundred brothers you betrayed, and your time just ran out."

The air inside Room 11 smelled of stale tobacco, copper, and cheap whiskey.

Curtis "Rattler" Briggs pressed the barrel of his silver revolver against the temple of the terrified woman. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and wild with the frantic desperation of a cornered animal. Sweat dripped down his hollow cheeks, soaking into his grimy collar.

"Don't come any closer, Mammoth!" Rattler screamed, his arm trembling violently as he pulled the crying woman tighter against his chest. "I swear to God, I'll pull the trigger! I've got nothing left to lose!"

The woman—whose name was Elena—let out a choked sob. Bruises purpled her collarbone and jawline, but her dark eyes were filled with a mother's fierce, frantic desperation.

"Please..." Elena gasped, her voice cracked and raw. "My daughter... where is my little girl?"

Barrett "Mammoth" Hayes took a single, slow step forward. The floorboards creaked under his massive weight. He didn't raise his hands, nor did he reach for a weapon. He simply stood like an unyielding granite wall, his cold gray eyes locking onto Rattler’s sweating face with horrifying intensity.

"Your daughter is safe, ma'am," Barrett said, his deep voice cutting through the panic like a heavy blade. "She's at the Iron Horse Saloon right now, drinking ice water with two hundred of my men guarding her. Nobody is going to touch a hair on her head."

Relief washed over Elena’s face, tears spilling down her bruised cheeks as she closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath.

"Did you hear that, Rattler?" Barrett continued, his tone dropping into a deadly whisper. "The kid is safe. Which means you have zero leverage, and every single second you keep pointing that gun at a mother, your chances of walking out of this desert alive drop to absolute zero."

"Shut up! Shut up!" Rattler shrieked, backing toward the rusted bathroom door, dragging Elena with him. "She knows where the drive is! Her dead husband hid the club's crypto keys before he died! I need that money, Mammoth! I'm broke, the cartels are hunting me—I need what's on that drive!"

Barrett’s eyes narrowed. The missing pieces of the puzzle instantly fell into place. Two years ago, when Rattler betrayed the Ashen Saints, he hadn't worked alone; he had tried to rob the club's hidden reserves with an accomplice—Elena's late husband. But her husband had hidden the access codes before passing away, leaving Rattler empty-handed and hunted by both the law and the underworld. In his desperation, Rattler had tracked down the innocent widow and her six-year-old child to torture the location of the fortune out of them.

"You dragged a widow and a six-year-old child into your mess because you're a coward who couldn't earn his own keep," Barrett said coldly.

"I'll kill her, Mammoth! I'll do it!" Rattler yelled, his finger tightening visibly on the trigger.

Outside the shattered doorway, the low, ominous rustle of two hundred bikers moving onto the concrete walkways began to echo. Rattler glanced toward the window for a split second, his focus breaking as the shadow of a dozen heavy-set men blotted out the sunlight passing through the curtains.

That split second was all Barrett needed.

Barrett lunged forward with explosive, unnatural speed for a man his size.

Before Rattler could snap his eyes back, Barrett’s massive left hand clamped down around the revolver's cylinder, jamming his thick fingers behind the hammer so it couldn't fall. With a brutal twist of his wrist, Barrett snapped Rattler’s wrist sideways.

CRACK!

Rattler shrieked in agony as the gun clattered harmlessly onto the carpet.

At the same instant, Axle—the broad-shouldered enforcer—stepped in, grabbing Elena by her waist and pulling her safely out of the line of fire, shielding her behind his heavy leather vest.