Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I step out, adjusting my suit jacket.
The weight of my gun presses against my ribs, a cold reminder of what I'm here to do.
Without hesitation, I stride toward the entrance, my jaw set in grim determination.
The heavy doors swing open under my touch, and I'm hit by the stench of stale beer and cigarette smoke.
My eyes scan the dimly lit interior, searching for one face in particular.
I holler, my voice echoing off the walls. "Where the fuck is Lyon?"
The room falls silent, a dozen pairs of eyes turning to stare at me.
I can feel the tension crackling in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife.
My hands clench into fists at my sides, itching for a fight.
Within seconds, a tall, broad-shouldered man emerges from a back room—Jaxon.
His face is a mask of confusion and irritation. "What the hell is this about, Viper?" he demands, stepping closer.
I meet his gaze unflinchingly. "Your piece of shit brother attacked and raped Iris at Satin Dreams," I spit out, barely containing my rage.
Jaxon's eyes widen in disbelief. "That's ridiculous," he scoffs. "Lyon might be a lot of things, but he wouldn't hurt her like that."
Something inside me snaps.
I close the distance between us in two quick strides, getting right up in Jaxon's face.
I can smell the whiskey on his breath as I growl, "I've got the fucking proof. I saw the video evidence with my own eyes."
Jaxon opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, movement catches my eye.
Lyon emerges from the shadows, his face a mix of arrogance and poorly concealed fear.
My vision goes red.
Everything I've been holding back since I saw that video, since I held Iris in the hospital, comes rushing to the surface.
Lyon is here, within reach, and all I can think about is making him pay for what he's done.
The moment I lay eyes on Lyon, something primal takes over.
I charge at him like a bull seeing red, my fists clenched and ready.
The first punch connects with his jaw, a satisfying crack echoing through the clubhouse.
Lyon stumbles back, but I don't give him a chance to recover.
I'm on him in an instant, raining down blows with all the pent-up fury I've been holding onto. "You fucking piece of shit!" I roar, punctuating each word with another hit.
Lyon fights back, landing a few solid punches of his own.
I feel my lip split, taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth, but I don't care.
The pain only fuels my rage.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see some of the club members moving to intervene, but Jaxon holds up a hand.
"Let them sort it out," he says, his voice tight with tension.
We grapple and slam into tables, sending bottles and glasses crashing to the floor.
It's messy, brutal, and exactly what I need.
With every punch I land, I think of Iris in that hospital bed, of the pain and fear in her eyes.
It drives me to hit harder, to make Lyon feel even a fraction of what she's going through.
By the time we separate, both of us are breathing hard.
Lyon's face is a mess of blood and bruises, his left eye already swelling shut.
I'm not much better off, but the pain is nothing compared to the satisfaction of seeing him broken.
I straighten up, wiping blood from my chin with the back of my hand. "Listen up, you fuckers," I say, my voice carrying across the now-silent clubhouse. "Things are changing around here. You're running drugs for me now. I've made a deal with an old friend of mine, Manuel Costa, and we're in business together."
The room erupts in murmurs and shocked glances.
I can see the fear in their eyes at the mention of Manuel's name.
Good.
They should be afraid.
They know exactly what kind of big dog he is.
Jaxon clears his throat, his gaze moving from me to his battered brother. "Lyon," he says, his voice dangerously low, "did you attack Iris?"
Lyon spits blood onto the floor, a twisted grin spreading across his face. "It wasn't an attack," he sneers. "Iris belongs to me. I was just taking what's mine."
The words have barely left his mouth before Jaxon's fist connects with his face.
He grabs Lyon by the hair, yanking his head back. "You dumb fuck," Jaxon snarls. "If Viper is partners with Manuel, you could've signed all of our death certificates."
Lyon laughs, a harsh, manic sound. "There's no way he's working with Manuel. He's bluffing."
I step closer, my eyes locked on Lyon. "Wrong move, asshole. I don't bluff. You hurt my woman, which means you attacked one of the bosses. And now," I pause, letting the tension build, "I'm going to take something from you."
Jaxon's grip on Lyon's hair tightens.
He looks at me, his expression a mixture of frustration and authority. "What do you want to do?" he asks. "How do you want to solve this?"