Chapter Seventeen
Vic
Vic had been in a shitty mood for days.
Bonnie’s continued silence felt like a slow knife twist.Every unanswered text, every ignored call, every night he spent staring at the ceiling where he second-guessed himself, wondering if he’d pushed too hard, too fast.He threw himself into rehearsals with OY, pounding the kit until his hands ached and his shoulders burned, but the music couldn’t drown her out.She was everywhere—in the pocket of every groove, in the quiet moments between songs, in the way his chest tightened when he thought about her fierce eyes and the walls she’d slammed back up the second he’d said the words.
Bear had noticed, of course, after the marathon session they’d had.The big man didn’t push or offer platitudes.He just started dragging Vic along on more club errands—anything to keep his hands and mind busy.Tonight, it was moving “sensitive cargo” from one safe house to another.
“I’m just the extra set of hands, right?”Vic asked as they pulled up behind an old warehouse on the edge of town.The clock on the dash read 1:37 a.m.
Bear grunted, killing the engine.“Right.Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open.Should be smooth.”
It wasn’t.
They were halfway through loading the unmarked crates into the back of Bear’s truck when the low rumble of motorcycle engines cut through the quiet.Three bikes rolled into the lot, riders wearing cuts from a rival crew, the Midwest Vipers.Vic didn’t know the patches, but he recognized trouble when he saw it.
The lead rider, a stocky man with a scarred jaw and a nasty sneer, killed his engine and swung off the bike.“Well, well.Bear and his new pet project.You boys lost?”
Bear straightened slowly, shoulders squared.“This ain’t your territory.Keep riding.”
The man laughed.“Everything’s our territory if we say it is.Those crates look heavy.Why don’t you let us lighten your load?”
Words flew fast after that.Insults turned to threats.One of the bikers stepped too close, shoving Bear’s shoulder.That was all it took.
The fight exploded.
Bear moved like a freight train, slamming a massive fist into the first man’s face with a sickening crack.The man dropped hard.But the other two were already on them—one lunging at Bear with a wild haymaker, the other pulling a knife from his belt.
Vic didn’t hesitate.
He stepped in beside Bear without thinking, years of bar fights, stage adrenaline, and sheer protective instinct taking over.When the second Viper swung at Bear’s blind side, Vic threw a solid right hook that connected with the man’s jaw and dropped him like a sack of bricks.Pain flared through his knuckles, but he barely felt it.
“Behind you!”Vic shouted as the third man came at Bear with the knife.
Bear pivoted, but the blade was already slicing through the air.Vic snatched a loose piece of rebar from the ground and cracked it across the attacker’s wrist with a sharp metallicthunk.The knife clattered to the pavement.The man howled, clutching his broken wrist.
Vic followed up with a hard kick to the knee, dropping him.Bear finished the job with one heavy boot to the chest, leaving the man gasping on the ground.
The fight was brutal, fast, and ugly—over in under two minutes.
Panting, adrenaline still surging, Vic stood over the fallen Vipers with the rebar still gripped tight in his hand.His right knuckles were split and bleeding.His shoulder throbbed where one of them had landed a glancing blow.But Bear was upright, and the cargo was safe.
Bear looked at him, breathing hard, a glint of respect in his eyes.“Not bad, kid.You didn’t have to jump in like that.”
Vic tossed the rebar aside with a metallic clatter.“Yeah, I did.”
Bear clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, careful of the sore spot.“Appreciate it.Let’s get this shit loaded and get the hell out of here before more of them show up.”
They finished loading the crates in silence, both men moving faster now, adrenaline sharpening every motion.As they climbed back into the truck, Bear glanced over at Vic’s bloody knuckles.
“You good?”
Vic flexed his hand and winced.“I’ll live.”
Bear started the engine.“You’re solid, Montrose.Club appreciates men who step up when it counts.”
