Asher swallows hard. His eyes are dark, wild around the edges. “You expect me to sit here and do nothing?”
“I expect you to let me do my job,” I say quietly. “I’m president. This is my call.”
That lands.
Zay’s gaze flicks between us, unreadable.
Asher takes one step toward me. Then another. He stops an arm’s length away.
“Valentina,” he says, voice low, “do not throw rank at me right now.”
“I wouldn’t if you weren’t about to start World War Three,” I answer, steady. My heart is pounding, but my voice doesn’t shake. “We are not ready for a full-scale war with the Vipers. Not with the possibility of Xavier waking up, not with half the club still deciding if they even trust me. You drag them into this today, we lose people. We might lose all of it.”
His gaze burns into mine. “So what do you suggest we do instead?”
I breathe once, deeply. The answer has been forming since the moment he said Talia’s name downstairs.
“I go on Zay’s bike,” I say. “Alone. No backup. No guns visible. I walk into their den and talk to them before you turn this into a bloodbath we can’t undo.”
Zay makes a sharp sound. “Absolutely not. They’ll gut you before you hit the second step.”
“Killian’s not stupid,” I say. “He wants leverage, not a corpse he can’t negotiate with. I’m worth more to him breathing.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?” Asher demands.
“It’s supposed to make this survivable,” I say. “For Talia. For us. For the whole damn club.”
Silence settles. Heavy. Tight.
I meet Asher’s eyes and hold them. “You know I’m right.”
He hates that.
I see it in the way his shoulders draw back, in the flare of his nostrils, in the way his fingers flex around the grip of the gun like he’s imagining other futures, ones where he ignores me, ones where he drags me along, ones where he never lets me near a Viper again.
Then he exhales, long and harsh.
“You don’t walk into Viper headquarters by yourself,” he says. “Not while I’m breathing.”
“Then stop breathing,” I snap, and the shock of my own words hits me a second after it hits them.
Zay goes very still.
I take a step forward, closing the distance until I’m directly in Asher’s space, until I have to tip my chin up to meet his eyes.
“You put that gun away,” I say quietly. “You stand down. You let me go. That’s the only way this doesn’t end with Talia’s body on a slab and you in a grave next to her.”
We stare each other down.
His chest rises and falls, hard and fast. His eyes search mine, like he’s looking for a way to argue that doesn’t end with both of us destroyed.
“This is not a suggestion,” I add. “As president of the Raiders, I’m giving you a direct order. Stand. Down.”
The words taste strange in my mouth. Heavy. Real.
He flinches like I hit him.
Something shifts in his expression—not defeat, but a reluctant acknowledgment that we’re not just allies in this mess anymore, not just people who want things together and are being pulled apart. We’re roles. Positions. Responsibilities.
