Jax’s POV
Morning didn’t feel like morning.
No sun in the clubhouse ever felt bright anyway, but today it felt darker than night. The air was thick. Nobody played music. Nobody joked. Even the coffee tasted burnt.
War mood.
I stood at the long table in the back room — our council room. Old wood, knife marks all over it from years of drunk arguments and brother bets. My hands rested on it, bandages tight around my knuckles.
Grizz leaned on the wall. Tyler paced like a caged dog. Four other patched members sat around the table, waiting.
Nobody asked why we were here.
They already knew.
I looked at each of them.
“Church,” I said.
Chairs scraped the floor as they stood straighter. That word meant decisions. No bullshit. No lies.
Tyler stopped pacing. “We going after Viper?”
“We ar
