Roman
The chair splinters against the wall, sending fragments of wood flying across the clubhouse. I’m already reaching for the next thing to throw, blind rage turning my vision red. Hands grab at me from all directions, but I shake them off, slamming my fist into the nearest face. The memory of Kayla’s terrified eyes, the bruise on her cheek, is burned into my mind, fueling a fury I’ve never felt before. My brothers become obstacles, faceless barriers between me and what I need to do: find my wife.
“Take him down!” Atlas roars, and suddenly there are too many hands to fight off.
I’m tackled to the floor, my cheek pressed against sticky, beer-soaked wood. Someone has my arms pinned behind myback. Someone else is sitting on my legs. I buck and thrash, but they’ve got me immobilized.
“Let me go!” I snarl. “My wife is out there with that psychopath! Let me fucking go!”
“Not until you calm the hell down,” Atlas says, appearing in my limited field of vision. He crouches down, his weathered face inches from mine. “You done? Or do we need to keep you pinned here all day?”
I struggle once more against the weight holding me down, then go still, chest heaving. “I’m done,” I mutter.
The pressure on my back eases slightly, but no one lets go yet. Atlas studies my face, looking for signs that I’m lying. Finding none, he nods, and the weight lifts entirely. Hands help me to my feet, though I shrug them off as soon as I’m upright.
The clubhouse is a mess. The chair I threw has left a dent in the wall; bottles and glasses lie shattered on the floor. Digger is being helped to his feet, blood streaming from his nose and split lip. Other brothers stand around, wary and tense, some with their hands hovering near concealed weapons.
“You pull that shit again,” Atlas says, jabbing a finger into my chest, “and you’ll be facing club discipline. I don’t care if you are VP. We don’t turn on our own.”
“Then why did you all turn on my wife?” I demand, voice rising again. “She called here for help. She was in trouble, and every single one of you ignored her.”
Atlas’s jaw tightens. “Your priority is the club, and you know it. Naomi is the target here. Demon wants her, not your wife. He’s just using Kayla as bait, hoping we’ll get careless.”
“You heartless son of a bitch,” I breathe, disbelief and rage tangling in my chest. “That’s my old lady. My wife. That used to mean something in this club.”
“It still does,” Atlas says, but his eyes shift away from mine. “But the safety of my daughter, your sister in the club, comes first. You know that. You agreed to that.”
“I didn’t agree to sacrifice my wife!” The words come out as a roar, and several brothers step forward, ready to restrain me again.
I hold up my hands, forcing myself to take a deep breath. Looking around the room, I see a spectrum of reactions. The younger members — the ones who came in after I became VP — look hostile and ready to follow Atlas’s lead. But some of the older members, the ones who rode with my father years ago, won’t meet my eyes. They shift uncomfortably, staring at the floor, the walls, anywhere but at me.
“I need to find her,” I say, my voice dropping to just above a whisper. “Every minute she’s with him…”
“We’ll find her,” Atlas says, his tone making it clear it’s not the priority. “But we need to be smart about this. Demon’s trying to draw us out, get us to act rashly. That’s why he took her. He knows you’ll come charging in, half-cocked and emotional.”
“And what would you do if it were Naomi?” I ask, watching his face carefully.
His expression hardens. “I’d trust my brothers to have my back and make the right call. I wouldn’t turn on them like a rabid dog.”
My laugh is bitter and cold. “Bullshit. You’d burn the world down, and we all know it. You did burn the world down when Demon took her the first time.”
For a moment, I see the truth flash in his eyes before he masks it. “Go cool off, Viper. We’ll work out a plan that doesn’t get us all killed.”
I look around the room one more time, at these men I’ve called brothers for most of my life. My gaze lands on Naomi, standing slightly behind her father, her red curls vibrant againstthe sea of dark leather and denim. Her expression is unreadable, but there’s something in her eyes I can’t quite name.
“I’m getting my wife back,” I say, the words dropping like stones into the tense silence. “With or without this club’s help.”
Atlas’s face darkens. “You walk out that door right now, you’re on your own. And when you come back, there will be consequences.”
I hold his gaze for a long moment. “Fuck you.”
“Viper!” Naomi’s voice cuts through the tense silence. She appears in front of me, blocking my path to the door. Her face is flushed, eyes. “You can’t leave. Please.”
I try to step around her, but she moves with me, hands coming up to grip the front of my cut.
“You promised,” she hisses, fingers digging into the leather. “You promised you’d protect me. That you wouldn’t stop until Demon was gone for good.”
I look down at her hands clutching my cut, then into her face. In this moment, with Kayla’s terrified expression still burned into my mind, I feel nothing for Naomi. Not sympathy, not loyalty, nothing.