Vic closed his eyes, letting her words settle over him like a balm.He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
“I just don’t want to lose this,” he whispered against her hair.“You.The band.The club.I’ve finally got something worth holding on to.”
Bonnie’s arms tightened around him.“Then hold on.I’m not going anywhere.And if your brother tries to take any of it from you...he’ll have to go through me first.”
Vic let out a shaky laugh, the sound muffled against her skin.On a slow breath in, the knot in his chest loosened just a little.
With Bonnie in his arms and the club at his back, he felt like he had something strong enough to stand on.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Vic
Their next rehearsal felt off from the first downbeat.
Vic sat behind the kit, sticks in hand, but the groove wouldn’t settle.Every fill came out a little too sharp, every transition a fraction too heavy.The rest of the band was playing fine—solid, professional—but he could feel the tension rolling off himself in waves.His mind kept drifting back to the bar, to Conner’s sneer, to the way Mason had looked at him when the threats first surfaced.
How long before they decide it’d be easier to cut me loose?
He missed a cue on the bridge of the new track.Benny glanced over, eyebrows raised, but didn’t say anything.The song limped to a stop.
“Again?”Leo, who, starting a few weeks ago, sometimes played with them, asked from behind the bass.
Vic shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face.“Sorry.I’m...not here tonight.”
The garage fell quiet except for the low hum of the amps.Vic could feel the eyes on him—not hostile but concerned.It only made the knot in his stomach twist tighter.
Chase, who had been quietly playing backing guitar in the corner, set his instrument down and stepped forward.The kid looked younger under the garage lights, but there was a steadiness in his eyes that Vic had come to rely on these past weeks.
“Hey,” Chase said, voice low enough that the others gave them space.“You good, man?”
Vic let out a harsh breath and spun one of his sticks between his fingers, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to break.“Not really.This shit with Conner...it’s messing with my head.I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.For the club to decide I’m not worth the headache my family keeps bringing to their door.”
Chase leaned against the edge of a speaker cabinet, arms crossed.He was quiet for a moment, like he was choosing his words carefully.
“I’ve seen a lot of shit around clubs,” he said finally.“Grew up in and out of them.Different charters, different crews.Some of them turn on their own for less than what your brother’s pulling.Suspicion, infighting, power plays—it gets ugly fast.But the RWMC?”Chase shook his head, a small, almost fond smile tugging at his mouth.“They’re loyal nearly to a fault.Once you’re in, you’re in.Mason doesn’t throw people away easily.Especially not someone who’s shown up the way you have.”
