The words hang in the air. I feel every man in the room tense, waiting to see how this plays out.
"Because he's gone," I repeat, stepping into the room. "And if you've got an issue with how club business is handled, maybe you should take it up with Ripper instead of gossiping like an old woman."
Viper stands up slowly. He's a big man, taller than me and broader, but size isn't everything in a fight.
"Maybe I'm tired of watching you make decisions that put the club at risk. Maybe some of us think you're too soft now, letting some girl turn you into something you're not."
"And maybe," Ripper's voice cuts through the tension as he enters the room, "you've forgotten your place in this club."
Every man snaps to attention. When the president speaks, you listen.
"Viper, you got something to say about how I run this club?" Ripper grumbles, his voice deceptively calm.
"I'm just saying?—"
"You're just running your mouth. About decisions that have already been made. About brothers who've proven their loyalty time and again." Ripper's gaze sweeps the room. "Whip handled the Derek situation exactly how it needed to be handled. End of discussion."
"But—"
"End. Of. Discussion." Ripper's voice carries absolute authority. "In fact, I think it's time we had a talk about your future here, Viper. My office. Now."
Viper's face reddens, but he doesn't argue. He follows Ripper out, leaving the rest of us in silence.
"About time," one of the prospects mutters.
I head back to the main room, needing to put some distance between myself and the confrontation. The party continues around me, but I can see some of the brothers watching for signs of drama.
Violet appears at my side, slipping her hand into mine. "Everything okay?"
"Just club business." I bring her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles. "You having a good time?"
"The best. Thank you for all this."
"You deserve it, baby."
She leans up to whisper in my ear. "Victorio's here."
I turn to see Victorio standing near the bar, looking distinctly out of place in his expensive suit among the leather and denim. But he's here, which says something about how serious he is about building a relationship with his daughter.
"How's he holding up?"
"Better than expected. Savannah's been introducing him around, making sure everyone knows who he is."
I squeeze her hand. "And the results?"
This afternoon, Violet got the call confirming what we already knew—Victorio is her biological father. The DNA testwas just a formality, but having official confirmation seemed to lift a weight off her shoulders.
"Ninety-nine point nine percent match," she says, smiling. "He cried when I told him."
"Good. He should know how lucky he is to have you in his life."
"Speaking of which," she says, producing an envelope from her purse. "He brought something."
I open it to find a handwritten note and two concert tickets.
Santiago, Thank you for loving my daughter and helping her become the strong woman she is today. These are for the Van Gogh exhibit she mentioned wanting to see. I thought perhaps you two could go together.
Victorio
