Chapter3
1039 Words
The hallway leading to the church room was narrow, lined with old photographs of presidents and fallen brothers. Rae’s father stared down at her from three different frames, each one capturing a different era of his reign. Younger. Older. Harder.
She didn’t look away.
She didn’t look anywhere but forward.
Her boots made no sound on the worn floorboards — a habit she’d picked up during training. Move quiet. Move controlled. Move like you expect danger around every corner.
Because she did.
Tank pushed open the double doors to the church room. The space inside was dim, lit by a single overhead bulb that cast long shadows across the table where the officers sat.
Every head turned when Rae stepped in.
The air shifted.
Not because she was a woman.
Not because she was the former president’s daughter.
But because she walked in like she belonged there — and like she wasn’t afraid of any of them.
Tank took his seat at the head of the table. Jax leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed, eyes locked on her. The rest of the officers — Road Captain, Treasurer, Sergeant‑at‑Arms — watched her with varying degrees of suspicion, hostility, and curiosity.
Rae didn’t wait to be invited. She pulled out a chair and sat.
Tank’s eyebrow twitched. “You think you can just—”
“Yes,” Rae said calmly.
A few men muttered under their breath. The Sergeant‑at‑Arms, Brick, leaned forward, thick arms crossed over his chest.
“You got a lot of nerve,” Brick said. “Walking in here like you’re one of us.”
Rae met his stare without blinking. “I’m not one of you.”
“Then why are you sitting at this table?”
“Because you’re talking about my father,” she said. “And anything involving him involves me.”
Brick smirked. “You think that name still means something?”
Rae didn’t answer with words.
She answered by leaning back in her chair, posture relaxed, gaze steady — the kind of steady that made Brick’s smirk falter. She didn’t puff up. Didn’t posture. Didn’t raise her voice.
She didn’t need to.
Tank cleared his throat. “We’re here to discuss Viper’s will.”
Rae’s jaw tightened. She hadn’t seen the full document yet — only the part that named her as next of kin. But she knew her father. He didn’t do anything without a reason.
Tank slid a folder across the table. Rae opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Her father’s handwriting.
If I die by violence, Rae gets the ledger.
Her pulse kicked.
The ledger.
The Serpents’ most guarded record — deals, debts, alliances, betrayals. Everything the club had ever done in the shadows.
Brick slammed his fist on the table. “This is bullshit. She ain’t getting that ledger.”
“It’s not your call,” Rae said.
Brick stood, chair scraping back. “You wanna say that again?”
Rae didn’t stand.
She didn’t flinch.
She simply lifted her eyes to his — slow, deliberate, controlled.
“Sit down,” she said.
Brick froze.
Not because of her voice.
Not because of her words.
But because of the way she said them — calm, steady, unshaken. The way someone trained to command a room says them.
Jax straightened from the wall, watching her with a new kind of intensity.
Tank’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can order my men around?”
“No,” Rae said. “I think your man is about to make a mistake.”
Brick scoffed. “What mistake?”
Rae finally stood.
Slowly.
Silently.
And when she did, the room shifted again — because she didn’t move like someone who’d grown up in a clubhouse. She moved like someone who’d spent years learning how to fight, how to survive, how to end a threat before it started.
She stepped toward Brick, stopping just inside his reach.
“Don’t test me,” she said quietly. “Not today.”
Brick opened his mouth to retort — then closed it.
Tank stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time.
Jax’s jaw tightened, something dark flickering in his eyes.
Rae sat back down.
Tank cleared his throat. “The ledger stays with the club.”
Rae shook her head. “The ledger goes to me. That’s what he wrote.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“That’s exactly how this works.”
Tank slammed his palm on the table. “You don’t get to walk in here and start making demands!”
Rae leaned forward, voice low and lethal. “I’m not making demands. I’m following my father’s orders. If you want to ignore them, go ahead. But you’ll be ignoring the last command of the man who built this club.”
Silence.
Heavy. Thick. Uncomfortable.
Jax finally spoke. “Tank… she’s right.”
Tank shot him a glare. “You stay out of this.”
“No,” Jax said, stepping forward. “I won’t.”
Rae didn’t look at him, but she felt the shift — the moment Jax stopped seeing her as a ghost and started seeing her as something else.
Something dangerous.
Something inevitable.
Tank exhaled sharply. “Fine. She gets the ledger.”
Brick muttered a curse.
Rae didn’t smile. Didn’t gloat. Didn’t react.
She simply nodded once.
Tank pointed a finger at her. “But you’re not staying. After the funeral, you’re gone.”
Rae stood.
“No,” she said. “I’m not.”
Tank’s face darkened. “You don’t get a say.”
Rae stepped toward the door, passing Jax without looking at him.
“I’m not leaving,” she said. “Not until I find out who killed my father.”
She opened the door.
“And not until I decide what comes next.”
She walked out, leaving the officers in stunned silence.
Jax followed her with his eyes, something like dread — or respect — settling in his expression.
Tank finally spoke.
“She’s going to be a problem.”
Jax didn’t look away from the door.
“She always was.”
- Writer
