These were the people who had taken him in after Benny went down.The ones who had his back when he needed it.They were rough around the edges, but solid.Now that foundation felt cracked, and Bonnie’s continued silence only made the ground underneath his feet feel shakier.
He was losing both the woman he loved and the brotherhood he’d come to rely on, all at the same time.
***
Two nights later, theVipers tried to retaliate.
Vic had been helping Hurley and Pinto close up the garage when the drive-by hit—bullets shattering windows, engines roaring past.He didn’t freeze.He moved on instinct, helping herd a couple of civilian mechanics inside to safety while the patched members returned fire.No heroics.Just calm competence under pressure—dragging a bleeding Pinto behind cover, keeping his head low, and staying useful without getting in the way.
When the shooting stopped and the Vipers fled, Bear found him pressing a rag to Pinto’s wounded arm.
“You good?”Bear asked, breathing hard.
Vic nodded, adrenaline still buzzing.“Yeah.Pinto needs a doctor, though.”
Bear clapped him on the back hard enough to rattle his teeth.“You did good, kid.Real good.”
Even Mason, arriving on scene minutes later, gave him a curt nod of acknowledgment.The disdain that had settled over Vic like a shroud started to thaw, replaced by something that felt closer to respect.
But as he sat on the curb afterward, blood on his hands that wasn’t his own, the ache in his chest remained.
Bonnie still hadn’t called.
And no matter how many times he proved himself—to the club, to Bear, to Mason—it didn’t fill the hole her silence had carved out.
***
The real turning pointcame with Chase.
Vic had noticed the kid hanging around rehearsals and the clubhouse for weeks now—quiet, talented, but carrying a weight on his shoulders that didn’t belong to someone his age.Chase moved through the space like he was trying not to take up too much room, guitar always close, eyes sharp but guarded.There was something familiar in the way he watched everyone, like he was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him.
One sticky afternoon, while Vic was alone in Bear’s garage studio working through some new rhythms on the kit, the side door creaked open.Chase stood there, guitar case in hand, looking unsure whether he should interrupt.
“You mind if I sit in?”he asked, voice low but hopeful.
Vic wiped sweat from his brow and shrugged.“Grab an amp.I’m just messing around anyway.”
Chase’s face lit up—just a flicker, but it was there.He set up quickly, plugging in his guitar and adjusting the strap like it was second nature.
They started simple.Vic laid down a loose blues progression on the drums.Chase answered with clean, emotive leads that surprised Vic with their maturity.
They played for hours.
Chase was good—reallygood—with a natural feel for melody and a touch that could go from delicate to ferocious in a single phrase.But he played with a kind of desperate intensity, like the music was the only thing keeping something ugly at bay.Vic recognized the feeling all too well.
Between songs, they talked.
“You ever feel like you’re just...waiting for everything to fall apart?”Chase asked during one break, picking absently at his strings.He didn’t look up.“Like no matter how hard you try, one day your dad’s reputation or the club’s expectations or something...everything...is gonna come crashing down, and it’ll be your fault?”
Vic set his sticks down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.The kid’s words hit close to home.
“Every damn day,” Vic admitted.“My old man was a mess.Chased every high, every gig, every woman who looked at him twice.Left a trail of burned bridges and broken promises.I spent years trying not to become him and still ended up repeating half his mistakes.”
Chase finally looked up, eyes haunted.“My dad...he’s larger than life around here.Everyone expects me to be just like him.Or better.But what if I can’t?What if I’m just...me?”
Vic studied the younger man for a long moment.There was real fear there—not just stage fright, but the deep kind that came from living in someone else’s shadow.
“Then you keep showing up anyway,” Vic said softly.“That’s what matters.Talent’s cheap.Showing up when it’s hard?That’s rare.You’ve got the talent, Chase.And you’ve got heart.The rest...you’ll figure it out one day at a time.One song at a time.”
