Shattered By You (The Viper’s MC #3)

Chapter 1

A VIPER WITHOUT FANGS…

VIKING

The meeting roars with 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 my sides 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 The vents hum angrily overhead, fighting a losing battle as the outdated AC works overtime.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 a crack and 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 tension that 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.”

Not whatever, because it’s blatantly clear he means, as long as the club remains on the same path it’s always been on.

I should have taken him aside before this, told him my plans, and gotten his support before bringing it up. The regret lodges firmly in my gut. It would have made a difference, especially for the younger guys who are eager to follow in their enforcer’s footsteps.

“We can’t operate how we are…”

“So, we figure something else out. We get crafty,” Blaze cuts me off, flicking open the Zippo never far from his grasp. The flame dances, reflected in his eyes, a calling card for his road name.

The nods around the table are unanimous. They’re aligned against me, the decision already made without a formal vote. It’s a losing fight, one not worth pushing. At least not until something happens and they see the reality of what I’m trying to protect us from.

“That’s how you all feel?”

The agreements sound off around the closed-up room, deeming the vote useless.

“Got it. Moving on, then.” I swallow the frustration and pivot. “There’s a rally coming up in Florida. We’ve got some business to settle up with the Tallahassee chapter. The majority of us need to be there, but Pierce, Ricky, Blaze, and Tank will stay back at the compound.”

A groan of annoyance comes from the lot, except for Pierce, who gives me a grateful nod. Lexi’s due any day with their second, and after everything they’ve been through, I’m not taking him out of state when he doesn’t need to be there. Si can handle anything that comes up along those lines.

“Si, your girl is good to come. Patch has an interest in meeting her.”

Patch has another thing coming if he thinks he’s getting anywhere near my enforcer’s girl. Not that Harlow can’t handle herself better than some of my own men.

“Make sure she’s on a leash, though. The last thing we need is a full-out war with one of our own chapters.”

He scoffs, dark eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. “My wife does what she wants, when she wants. I haven’t been able to control that woman since the day she walked back into my life. If Patch wants a meeting with her, he’d better buckle up.”

“Jesus fucking christ.” I shake my head, knowing damn well he’s not wrong. Harlow’s a loose cannon, just like her damn husband.

“We leave Wednesday. Family only. Don’t show up with some passaround. There’ll be plenty of pussy for everyone when we get down there.”

My gavel hits the wooden table one last time, and the meeting is closed.

The men get up and leave, chairs scraping, voices already rising again as if nothing monumental just happened.

But I’m glued to my chair, my mind still reeling from their reaction.

The weight of leadership presses harder now than it did when I walked in.

They can’t see it yet, but it sits on the horizon like a loaded weapon waiting for the sight to zero in. If it does, we’re fucking screwed, because we’ll be a shell of the club they’re used to.

Maybe Patch will have some advice on how I can get through to them.