I need to fix that. Need to make it official. However, traditions matter in this world, and promoting two VPs simultaneously is unprecedented.
Fuck tradition. We’re making new rules now.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Miller’s asking when we’re hitting back. The brothers are getting restless. They want blood.”
“Tell them soon. We hit back when I say we hit back, not before.”
Ghost is quiet for a moment. “They’re questioning your leadership. Saying you’re too focused on Bonnie to lead the club.”
My jaw tightens. “Let them question. I’ll prove them wrong when the time comes.”
“I know you will. Just giving you the heads-up.”
“Appreciated. Where’s Titan now?”
“Still at the garage. Should be back in an hour.”
“Good. I need both of you in my office at four. We need to talk strategy.”
“Got it. Anything else?”
“Yeah. How’s she doing?”
Ghost doesn’t need me to clarify who. “Threw up twice this morning. Ate half a piece of toast. She’s resting now.”
Guilt twists in my gut. I should be with her, not buried in paperwork. But the club needs me. The brothers need me. And if I don’t hold this together, everything Iron built falls apart.
“Keep an eye on her,” I say.
He hangs up. I set the phone down and stare at the papers again.
My life used to be simple. Follow orders. Protect the club. Stay loyal to my brothers. I was good at it. Good enough that Iron made me VP at twenty-six, the youngest in club history, but I never thought I’d be sitting in this chair at twenty-nine.
This was supposed to be Iron for another decade at least. Then maybe Jackal would take over when his old man finally retired.
Not me. Not like this.
I remember the last normal night before the Savage Legion burned my first club to the ground. I was seventeen, sitting around a fire pit with my dad and the other brothers, listening to them talk about runs they’d been on, deals they’d made, wars they’d survived. My dad had his arm around my mom. She was laughing at something one of the guys said.
I remember thinking,This is what I want.This brotherhood. This family. This life.
Twenty-four hours later, they were all dead.
Now I’m the one sitting in the president’s chair, making the calls, deciding who lives and who dies. And I’ve got a pregnant wife who’s got a target on her back because of decisions made before I even took this position.
The weight of it sits heavily on my shoulders. Every choice I make affects hundreds of people. Brothers, old ladies, kids. One wrong move and people die.
But I can’t think about that right now, can’t second-guess every decision or I’ll freeze up completely.
I have to trust that Iron saw something in me worth betting on. That twelve years of loyalty and blood earned me the right to sit in this chair.
My phone buzzes. I check the screen—Daniel Reeves, Iron’s lawyer. I answer on the second ring.
“Mr. Torres, I have an update on the case.”
I straighten in my chair. “Tell me about it.”
