"Own it."
Preston Grant had built a successful development company.
He owned properties around Hawthorne Park.
He had influence at city hall.
And now he wanted to replace the park, the surrounding businesses, and the Iron Jaws garage with luxury apartments.
Gary placed a document on the desk.
"Three shell companies."
Dean read it.
"All connected to Preston."
"One owns a surveillance company."
Dean slowly looked up.
"He's been watching us."
Gary nodded.
"And framing us."
Outside the office, Lacy had stopped drawing.
She had heard everything.
She looked down at her notebook.
Then she added one word beneath the map.
WHY?
The Nest
By morning, the Iron Jaws garage had transformed.
A whiteboard covered one wall.
Patrol schedules.
Vehicle descriptions.
Delivery times.
Signal locations.
Everything was documented.
Gary installed secure internal cameras.
This time, the Iron Jaws were doing the watching.
Near the back of the garage, they created a small workstation for Lacy.
A stool.
A lamp.
A tool kit.
A tablet.
They called it the Nest.
Dean approached her carrying an old patch.
An eagle was stitched into it.
"You've earned this."
Lacy looked at him.
"Does this one go straight?"
Dean smiled.
"Straight."
He pinned it onto her vest.
"You're our scout now."
Lacy's smile nearly split her face.
But Dean had one warning.
"You don't take risks."
"Okay."
"You don't follow strangers."
"Okay."
"And you never go anywhere alone."
Lacy nodded.
"Okay."
Randy whispered from behind them:
"She's going to ignore at least one of those."
Dean sighed.
"Probably."
But for the first time, the club wasn't reacting to Preston's moves.
They were preparing for them.
The Bait
Dean had a plan.
"Nothing loud," he said.
"No threats."
"No confrontation."
"We let them think we're careless."
So the Iron Jaws staged chaos.
Tools were left scattered.
A motorcycle blocked the meeting table.
Crates were placed where they shouldn't have been.
Arguments were deliberately staged.
From the Nest, Lacy watched everything.
At three fifteen, Gary suddenly leaned toward his monitor.
"We've got activity."
Dean continued pretending to argue.
The signal appeared again.
Lacy watched the map.
Then she pointed.
"That's not the storage unit."
Gary looked.
"Where?"
"Across the street."
She zoomed in.
"The gas station."
Gary's eyes narrowed.
"It's a mobile relay."
A man in a delivery jacket stepped outside the convenience store.
He held a phone to his ear.
He looked toward the Iron Jaws garage.
Lacy zoomed in.
"That's him."
Dean turned.
"You sure?"
"I saw him near the storage unit."
Gary watched the man.
The signal pulsed.
Then disappeared.
Dean smiled.
"Let's give him something to report."
Inside the garage, the staged argument became louder.
A chair scraped.
A tool crashed.
A biker slammed his fist on the table.
The man across the street reacted immediately.
Then his phone went dark.
Gary frowned.
"He cut the stream."
Dean nodded.
"Which means he's changing plans."
Lacy stared at another blinking point on the map.
"Dad."
"What?"
"There's another signal."
Gary leaned closer.
"It's not video."
"What is it?"
Lacy swallowed.
"A trigger."
Dean's expression hardened.