Devil POV
My knuckles thudded against the doorjamb. "Hey, Prez, got a minute?"
Jax Mercer, better known around here as Grave, looked up from his desk. His cut draped over wide shoulders, the patch reading "President" sitting just over his road name. Overall, he'd been a good leader for the club. In our world, that meant more than being popular. It meant making the hard calls and carrying the consequences when things went sideways. I respected the man as much as the patch.
He rubbed his eyes and nodded, closing his laptop. "Sure, Devil. Come on in."
I closed the door behind me, but if he was surprised, he didn't say anything. I rarely needed a closed-door sit-down with the Prez, but this situation called for it. Moving through the office, I took a seat in front of his desk. I'd handled
