“Now that our ranks are replenished,” Jax says, his voice deceptively soft, “it’s time our newest members understand exactly what they’ve joined.”
He moves to the center of the chamber and taps a panel on the floor. A holographic display illuminates the space, showing a network of connections spanning the entire city.
“The Vipers began as a simple pact between old money families,” Jax explains, indicating the core nodes on the display. “A mutual agreement to protect our interests when the law proved... inconvenient.”
The display shifts, expanding outward like a spider’s web.
“Today, we control seventeen judges on the federal bench.” Red dots illuminate across the city map. “Twenty-six politicians, including the mayor and three state senators.” More lights blink on. “Forty-two police captains and the police commissioner himself.”
I watch the newest members’ faces. The reality of what they’ve joined is finally sinking in.
“Our corporate division,” Jax continues, nodding toward Blaine, “has executed hostile takeovers of fourteen major companies in the last decade alone. We control real estate, banking, tech, and medical infrastructure.”
Penn chuckles beside me as one recruit visibly pales.
“And the streets?” Jax gestures to Grayson. “Every drug dealer, every pimp, every gang leader answers to us or disappears. We decide who thrives and who dies.”
The hologram expands to show the entire city grid, now a constellation of Viper control points.
“What began as protection has evolved into governance,” Jax says. “The people believe they elect their leaders. They’re wrong. We are the true power. The shadow government that rules from darkness.”
He closes the display with a wave of his hand. “Remember this when you’re tempted to question orders or pursue personal vendettas. We are not individuals. We are the system itself.”
The five recruits rise from their knees as Jax beckons them to the center of the chamber. Hansen catches my eye, his face betraying nothing. Smart man. His composure during the claustrophobia test impressed me, though I’d never admit it aloud.
“Blood binds deeper than any contract,” Jax announces, removing an obsidian dagger from his jacket. The blade gleams under the chamber’s lights. “What we create tonight cannot be undone.”
He slices across his palm without flinching, letting the blood pool in a silver chalice held by Blaine.
“I lead not through birthright but through strength and vision. My blood carries that promise.”
Each founding member follows suit. When my turn comes, I drag the blade across my flesh, watching crimson well up from the cut. The pain barely registers.
“Drink,” Jax commands when the chalice reaches Hansen, “and become bound to us for eternity.”
Hansen hesitates only momentarily before bringing the cup to his lips. The other four recruits follow his example, each drinking.
“Your oath is sealed,” Jax says, moving to a control panel. “But words and blood mean nothing without understanding consequences.”
The chamber’s lights dim as a projection appears on the far wall. I recognize the footage immediately and fight to keep my expression neutral.
“Dominic Hughes. Former congressman. Former Viper.” Jax’s voice cuts through the darkness as the video shows Dominic strapped to a medical table, screaming soundlessly. “He voted against our interests, believing his political connections would save him.”
The footage shifts to show the aftermath. What remained of Dominic barely resembled a human.
“Aaron Michaels shared our methods with federal agents.” Another video plays, this one more graphic than the last. “His betrayal cost us three operations and millions in revenue.”
Several recruits visibly pale as the footage continues, showing five more examples of traitors’ fates. Hansen’s eyes remain fixed on the screen, his jaw clenched tight.
“Loyalty is our one absolute,” Jax says, turning off the projection. “Break your vow, and you pray for the mercy of a quick death. There are no second chances.”
Throughout the ceremony, I catch Jax’s eyes on me more than usual. Not his typical supervisory glance, but something more penetrating. I maintain my composure, but the weight of his stare becomes increasingly difficult to ignore.
As the recruits disperse and the chamber empties, Jax appears at my side. His hand clamps firmly on my shoulder.
“A word, Hunter.” Not a request.
He guides me to a private alcove where the surveillance cameras have conveniently malfunctioned for years. Our personal dead zone for conversations that need to stay buried.
