A Torturous Kiss (Vipers MC)

Chapter 1 Oak

Oak

It's hard to remember the man I was before.

The man before I enlisted.

The man who wasn't a Marine.

The man who never saw battle.

He almost seems like a figment of my imagination.

Everything before doesn't seem real.

And that's the terrifying part. That being at war, lying on the cold ground, entering gun fire and fighting for my life along with my comrades felt like home.

Because when I returned, when I made it out alive, home was no longer home.

It all felt . . . wrong.

And it hasn't felt right since.

Nine years.

It's been nine years since my last tour, and I am still in fight mode.

Someone looks at me the wrong way, someone says something in the wrong tone my first initial reaction in my head is to take them down.

I can make it happen quick. Easy. Painless.

My brain has to work ten times harder to remind myself that I am not overseas. That they are not my enemy. They are not a threat.

Only then after I have repeatedly told myself that I don't have to fight, when my mind is already wired to do so, can I breathe again.

A short breath that burns my lungs with the promise of hope and dreams. As I exhale it all goes away yet the war remains.

It always fucking remains.

No matter how bruised my pride is or how beaten down my mind is I still have to fight.

At this point I feel like I'm blindly throwing punches. Aiming my rifle at the wrong targets. Closing my eyes to find peace but never being able to escape.

Exhausted.

I am so fucking exhausted.

I never thought it was possible to be that tired.

To be worn down to the bone. Where even having to think takes energy out of me.

My mind constantly races. It takes me back to a time where I don't want to be.

It makes me question everything. Then, as if that isn't enough to bear my mind is playing tricks on me.

It will happen out of nowhere. Where one moment I am perfectly fine and then one little thing will happen, and it snaps something inside of me. I'm no longer here in the present. I'm trapped in the past.

Triggers.

There is so many fucking triggers that I have now. As the weeks continue to go by because time shows no mercy they only add up.

I used to tell my triggers to Snake. My club brother whom I am closest to.

That man understands me in ways that no one else does because we were one in the same.

Men masking their pain the best they knew how.

It forged an unbreakable bond between us.

There isn't anything I wouldn't do for him. I trust him with my life.

The mask Snake wore to cope with his demons has been lifted.

He's seen the light or rather found it in his fiancée, Alice.

And honestly, I couldn't be happier for him.

He deserves someone who accepts and loves all of him.

All his flaws and inner demons. And believe me, Snake is a man made of darkness yet somehow, he found someone made of light and she loves him completely.

They're perfect for each other. A perfect balance.

She makes him a better man. God, she healed him. Saved him from himself.

She lifted the mask.

And here I am still wearing one.

Because how else am I supposed to deal with all the shit in my head when I have so much responsibility with this club?

It's why I stopped telling my triggers to Snake.

I know how fucked up it may seem, but I do not want to appear weak.

Being Vice President of Vipers MC gives me a sense of purpose. I have responsibilities. It gives me a reason to get out of bed in the morning when I really fucking don't feel like it. And at times, when the war in my mind isn't at front, it keeps me busy.

If I keep confessing all my triggers, I'm desperately afraid that my title that I have earned will be taken away from me.

And I know Snake would never do that. What I confide in with him is more sacred than a priest at a confessional.

But I don't want to risk it.

Being Vice President makes me feel like I haven't failed completely as a leader.

And I need that.

I need that when my past is fucking constantly throwing in my face how terribly I failed as being one overseas.

"As long as Oak agrees I see no problem with it. What do you say, Oak?" Sticks, our President of the club asks me.

Shit.

What the fuck am I even about to agree or disagree with?

"Buying Hell's Gates and rebranding it was his idea in the first place," Snake says looking directly at me.

I give him a silent thank you with a nod of my head and he nods his back.

He then smiles one of his grand smiles. The one that used to be part of his mask but are now genuine.

"Who you putting in charge? Slater?" Snake smirks mischievously.

We both already know the answer to that question.

The fucker just likes to agitate me. He's the only one I'll allow to do it.

Giving him a hard stare, he chuckles under his breath. I then turn my attention to Sticks who is waiting for my response. "I agree only on one condition."

Sticks brow raises. "That is?"

"I'm in charge and I want Snake to be promoted to Sergeant at Arms."

"That's two conditions," Snake quips, completely oblivious to what I just demanded from our President.

"I'm well aware of that," I reply dryly.

Snake continues to smile like a loon and winks playfully at me.

I swear sometimes that fucker is more trouble than he's worth.

But after everything he's been through in these past eight months, I don't mind his cheeky attitude.

Hell, I welcome it. Not long ago Snake miraculously woke up from being in a coma.

And those days watching him lie limp and severely wounded on the hospital bed were too much for my already broken soul.

Snake is the strongest man that I know. And I'm not saying that fucking lightly. I was a Marine. I was surrounded by the toughest of people for years but Snake . . .

Snake is something else entirely. His strength wasn't taught. It was fucking built at a young age. And the hardships he faced when he was young forged him to become lethal.

There's a reason why the only person I can fight in this club to let off steam is him. He's the only person who can go toe to toe with me. Hell, there are times where he even wins.

Our fights help with our demons. They're an outlet for the both of us.

Lately I've lost that outlet. With Snake still recovering from a very near fucking death experience he's not in peak physical shape yet.

He's only been in physical therapy for about five months now.

Although he's shown tremendous progress, he's still nowhere near the shape he used to be.

Don't get me wrong, the fucker is strong but not strong enough to last in a fight with me like old times.

And without those fights I've noticed I've become a bit more easily agitated. My triggers attack me harder and harder. Sleeping at night consists of two hours tops before I wake up in a pool of my own sweat.

I haven't told anyone, but I know that Snake has noticed. He's perceptive. He's already told me multiple times if I don't seek help then he's going to force me to.

But I don't need help.

I just need a good fucking night of sleep and a bars held none fight in the gym.

I'm fine.

I'm fine.

I'm . . . at war.

And I'm fine with that. I am. It's familiar. It's something I know.

I just hope this time I win because right now all I'm doing is losing the fucking battles.

I need to win the war.

I have to.

Sticks clears his throat demanding my attention.

"Are they your only two conditions?" I nod my head.

As much as I want to be in charge with the takeover of Hell's Gates it's also another responsibility on my already full plate.

Having Snake as my second in command will get tasks that need to be handled done faster.

"Snake being promoted to Sergeant at Arms has to come to a vote," he tells me before directing his attention to everyone.

Within Vipers MC there’s a committee of only six men given the votes.

One of them being our President, Sticks.

A man who is a father figure to all of us.

He’s respected and admired. He’s also the perfect President.

We also have a brand new member. Once a prospect, Slater, is now patched in as a member.

His patch came about a month ago. To say he was beyond thrilled would be an understatement.

That young man was smiling from ear to ear with mist in his eyes.

Slater is a good man. He loves the club and holds everyone in it with his highest respect.

And he almost died eight months ago trying to save Snake.

If that doesn’t show loyalty to the club, I don’t know what does.

Although he’s young, twenty-two years old, he’s proved himself.

The other members besides Snake and myself consist of Dex and Pax.

They’re both equally good men. One more ruthless than the other but both good men.

Pax has always been a lover over a fighter.

He’ll want to pacify with words whereas Dex wants to silence his enemies with his fists.

Somehow, despite their differences, they are extremely close.

And maybe that’s why. They both balance each other out.

Making each other see their perspective.

As much as I love and respect all my brothers there isn’t anyone else I want by my side but Snake.

“Anyone here vote against having Snake being promoted to Sergeant at Arms?” A silence falls in the room.

Everyone glances at each other and then returns their gaze back to Sticks.

Sticks nods his head and with the slam of the hammer my conditions are met.

“Oak will be in charge of the rebranding of Hell’s Gates and thereafter and Snake is promoted to Sergeant at Arms.”