A VIPER WITHOUT FANGS…
VIKING
The meeting roarswith jovial conversation, while the guys fill the room and shuffle around the table. Leather cuts groan with shifting weight, boots thud against the concrete floors, and the scrape of wooden chairs still as everyone finds their seats.
The sharp tang of stale beer wafts in through the open doors like a permanent fixture. Cigar smoke curls lazily toward the ceiling fans, never quite escaping the room, just circling back down to settle into our breathing space.
They have no clue that in five minutes, everything could change for us. Five minutes is nothing in the main scheme of things, but it’s more than enough to fracture a brotherhood if the intention of my plan lands wrong.
I never wanted this responsibility. Yet the weight of it continues to press against my shoulders, year after year. The unrelenting heaviness of the cut on my back only grows heavier with rank on my chest.
Being President was never on my radar when I joined the Vipers in my twenties. Back then, all I wanted was the road, the rumble of an engine beneath me, and the brothers at mysides who’d bleed before they’d betray me. The hot, available pussy we had at our beck and call didn’t hurt either.
Yet, being voted in over some of the other old timers in the crew felt like the club knew something I didn’t. Something I hadn’t seen in myself yet, or maybe something I’d been trying to avoid. After everything we’d been through with the hit that took out way too many of our brothers, I knew I couldn’t let them down.
Their faces flash through my mind. The men who should be sitting at this table but never will again. Now, here I am.
The summer sun is at its peak today. It beats down without mercy, like it’s got a personal vendetta against the compound. But that’s just August in East Texas. The vents hum angrily overhead, fighting a losing battle as the outdated AC works overtime.
It’s not enough to keep the sweat from beading at my temples or gathering along my spine. It trickles down the side of my face, reminding me how uncomfortable this is about to get in more ways than one.
The guys won’t quiet on their own, happy to shoot the shit, though they know if we’re in here, it’s for a reason. Laughter bursts from one end of the table, Chopper claps Blaze on the shoulder, and for a split second, I envy their ignorance.
I slam the gavel against the thick wood table with acrackand draw in a deep breath to break the news. The sound snaps through the room like a gunshot, a warning we’re all too familiar with.
“Ricky, shut the door,” I order one of the newest patched-in members. He stiffens immediately, the smile wiped clean off his face as he does what he’s told, the heavy door sealing us in.
The silence intensifies around me, building thick tensionthat courses through my veins. It’s the kind of quiet that buzzes in your ears, electrifies the blood in your system.
“As you all have probably noticed over the last six months, since the new mayor was elected, things have been a bit…” I trail off deliberately, letting them fill in the blanks with their own frustrations.
“Stifling?” Silas throws out to the group.
“To sum it up, yes.” I nod once. “We’ve always flown under the radar here. With Montgomery in office, he was too busy hiding his own skeletons to worry about ours, but Beckett is on one.”
On all of us. Watching and waiting for the day we fuck up and give him a reason to search the grounds.
“No shit. The cops are posted up on Highway 20 all day and night. They’re doing random stops, too,” Chopper adds.
The group nods along, getting more heated by the second as we discuss our newly elected pain in the ass. Voices overlap as everyone has something to add.
The longer I wait to spit it out, the worse it’ll be. I know that, but the suggestion snags in my throat.
“That’s why we’re here today. I want to take a vote…” I draw in a deep breath before finally spitting it out, “for the club to go straight.”
The room erupts. The reaction instant and violent. Fists pound against the table. At least two chairs topple to the floor. Someone swears loud enough to rattle the walls. The animosity and disbelief skyrocket, coating the room in a seething anger you could bottle and use to destroy countries. It’s unfiltered and aimed squarely at me for saying the thing they should all be thinking.
The gavel cracks again, but even with the call for order, it takes more than a second this time for everyone to rein it in.The noise dies down, eventually, like a fire starved of oxygen but not quite extinguished.
Not one gaze around the long table is supportive or understanding. Every set of eyes burns with betrayal or outright fury. It’s exactly what I expected from them when I gave no indication of this coming down the pipeline.
I get it, it took me weeks to weigh the option. Josie’s probably sick and tired of hearing me battle the ins and outs of this change. It’s not a step I ever thought we would take. Shit, it’ll mean shifting our entire set-up and figuring out how the club survives an evolution like this. The Vipers without our fangs aren’t the Vipers at all.
“I know what you’re all thinking, but we need to make this change, or we won’t survive. At least not on the outside.” My voice stays steady, even if my chest feels tight. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got an old lady that’d have me by the balls if my ass ever gets hauled in. Not to mention, I’d love to see my girl grow up.”
I find the one person around the table I know that’ll hit home with, but he’s also one of the main guys this reform would affect. What does a cleaner do with his particular skill set if we’re working nine-to-five jobs instead? The question hangs unanswered in my mind because it’s so apparent that a child could solve it. He’s fucked.
“I didn’t sign up for no weekend ride bullshit,” Silas says, breaking the jilted silence. His voice is rough and dangerously close to disgust by the suggestion. “I’m in this for life, man, whatever that means for me.”
