“Membership keeps growing every day. There was a slight increase in cancellations over the last two weeks, but I think that’s because no new content has been added.”

Fucking great. “What do we do about that?”

“That’s always been between Stella and Sway,” Steer explains. “We take our cut, but creative control is all hers. She reports to Sway and runs new ideas by him. No one else.”

Kill me now. The last damn thing I feel like doing is begging Stella for any updates on what sexual positions she’s filming herself in lately. Or worse, collaborating on projects.

Frustrated, I motion for Hustler to hand me the papers he’s holding. “I thought he was bankrolling some of her friends too. How are those doing?”

“We are. I got those reports too. None of them have the fan base she does, but they’re also on an upswing.”

“All right, well at least that’s good news.” I turn to Rooster. “Where we at with Sway’s shooting?”

“I’m at a dead end.” He scratches his hand over his beard and flicks his gaze down the table, but no one speaks up. “I’ve combed through every piece of video footage and got nothing.”

Shadow stands without being recognized, something I don’t care for. I won’t make an issue out of it now, but it’ll definitely be addressed at some point. Bikers or not, we have a certain protocol at meetings that will be followed.

“We all know Vipers were probably behind this attack.” He turns and points down the table. “How many times they come after your club? Almost fucking killed you, right brother?”

Teller sits up, surprised, I think, to be brought into the conversation. “Yeah, but the ones who ran me off the road are,” he cough-smirks, “long gone.”

“Z knows more about this than I do,” Murphy says. “But we never had any indication that the Jersey charter condoned what New York was doing. So why they’d start fucking with us now makes no sense.”

“Bullshit.” Smoke jumps out of his chair. “We know one club doesn’t make a move without the rest of ‘em knowing about it. They came after our prez and we need to retaliate before they think we’re a bunch of pussies who can’t handle our biz.”

Christ, that escalated quickly.

“Whoa.” I hold my hands up in the air but otherwise remain calm, like none of this ruffles me even though I’m dying to plant my fist in Shadow’s face for sharing this conspiracy theory without discussing it with me first. “What are you basing that opinion on?”

“Thirty-five years of gut instinct,” Smoke shoots back, slapping his meaty paw over his protruding gut. “I been in the game since you were in diapers, Z.”

Rooster sighs and rolls his eyes my way. Further down the table, Jigsaw snorts and shakes his head.