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I was instantly on edge despite the fact that my cock was still deflating from my wife grinding on it. Remembering why I was still uncomfortable didn’t do shit to settle the unease that kicked up at the sight of the whole fucking chapter.

Hatchet was the last one through the door, which only confirmed that some shit was up. We only called full Church on off days for two reasons, because there was trouble headed our way, or death. Looking at my father, though, it couldn’t be trouble or death because he looked so un-fucking-bothered. He took his time walking around the room, stopping to shake hands and chat with brothers he hadn’t seen in way too long.

Waiting for Hatchet was fucking with my nerves so I turned to Rook. “You have any idea what this is about?”

The bastard shrugged but I saw a hint of a grin he was shit at hiding.

Hatchet finally made his way to the head of the table where he looked around the room with an almost wistful smile before his gaze landed on me. “I built this club,” he began, letting his voice carry without effort, the way it always had. “Over decades, I carved out territory and businesses that would help us thrive. Back then we just hoped to make enough money for beer, guns and grass.”

The room erupted into loud laughter, a few guys pounded on the table hard enough to rattle the bottles at the far end.

Hatchet smiled, absorbing the joyous mood inside this sacred room. “This MC was built to last past my few short years on this planet. To continue thriving, the MC needs the right Prez. The right man at the right time can make all the difference for an MC, I really believe that shit.” He paused again while his gaze swept over the room again, like he was trying to remember everything just as it was in that moment. “Just look at what Rex did to the Warlords.”

The room fell silent at his words. Every man in the room knew Rex Price and the havoc he’d wreaked on the world, and we all knew the world was a fuck of a lot better off without him.

Hatchet stood taller with his shoulders squared as he slipped his leather vest from his shoulders. Torque was there with his blade, handing it over while my father removed the President patch before he held it high above his head.

That one move knocked the wind clean out of my fucking chest. I’d never seen that patch anywhere but on his chest. That’s where it lived my whole fucking life and it didn’t feel right that it was no longer there. But still, this was the moment I waited my whole fucking life for. It still felt wrong. Hatchet was here and he was still capable as fuck.

But I wanted it. That was the honest fucking truth about this moment, I wanted that patch, had worked toward it since I was a prospect, but Hatchet was still here and he was still capable. He taught me every goddamn thing I knew about leadership, and he was still here, so why did the MC need me?

It was the bitter irony of a family business like this, the only way to move ahead is if someone else stepped down.

My father’s hand landed on my shoulder, heavy and warm, as he flashed a proud smile at me. I saw that smile a few times over the years and I knew whatever he said next, he meant it. “You have shown, through this shitshow with Rex, that you are more than ready to take over the MC. Are you ready?”

I let the gravity of the moment settle over me before I answered. “I’m ready.”

He grinned wide, his eyes filled with pride. As if this moment didn’t detract from his lifetime of leadership. “Then,” he started.

Switch shot to his feet before he could finish. “Let’s take it to a motherfuckin’ vote, then!”

The vote was quick. Every hand in the room went up without hesitation.

Unanimous.

I was now Prez of Iron Vows MC.

Someone took my cut off me while others congratulated me with handshakes, fist bumps and shoulder slaps. A few others knocked loudly on the table, chanting my name until my vest reappeared with the new patch on it.

“It’s all yours, son,” Hatchet grinned. “Take care of it.”

I looked around the room, at the brothers I came up with, the ones who had my back as we went from rowdy prospects to even rowdier patched brothers who drank, fucked and kicked ass in equal measures. They were here now, proud and smiling, ready to follow me into the depths of hell if that’s what the MC needed.

It felt right, the patch that sat on my chest. Despite my conflicted feelings over watching my father grow old and hand over the reins, it felt so fucking right my chest was bursting with it. I turned until my gaze met Hatchet’s again. “With my fucking life.” I would protect this MC and all the people in it as if they were my own.

Because they were.

He nodded once. Then he wrapped his arm around me and held on for longer than he had since I was a boy. I let him because this moment wasn’t just mine, it was his too. “So fuckin’ proud of you, son.”

I held on a second longer than I normally would have and did not feel bad about it.

When we pulled back, I looked around the table one more time. Warden and Rook, Switch, Torque and Ace and Torch. I looked at every brother who had ridden into this mess alongside me and come out the other side. I thought about what it had cost to get here. The nights that went sideways, the blood, the shit that couldn’t be taken back.

The months of Rex pushing at us before we responded.

The aftermath.

I’d do it all again because this, all of it, was so fucking worth it.