Page 9 of Savage Loyalty

Her smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, more thoughtful. “I think he’s going to try. But handling it? That’s a whole different story.”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice so no one else could hear. “The club’s a mess, Delilah. Half of them are ready to follow Axel, and the other half are already looking for cracks to exploit. And now, with Javier gone...” She trailed off, her gaze darkening. “It’s not good.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of her words settling over me like a lead blanket. I’d known coming back would be hard, but I hadn’t expected to walk into the middle of a powder keg.

“Why are you still here?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. “You always said you’d leave if things got bad.”

Luce’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—regret, maybe, or something close to it. “This is my life,” she said simply. “The club’s all I’ve got.”

I wanted to argue, to tell her she deserved more than this. But I knew better. Luce wasn’t the type to take advice she didn’t ask for, and the last thing she needed was me swooping in after years of silence to tell her how to live her life.

Instead, I just nodded, letting the conversation drift into silence. Luce didn’t push, didn’t try to fill the quiet. She just stood there beside me, solid and steady, like she always had.

The whispers started slowly, like the first gusts of wind before a storm. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but in a crowd like this, it was impossible not to catch snatches of conversation. Words likeSerpentsandambushhung in the air, their weight pressing down on the already heavy atmosphere.

These men weren’t just mourning Javier Cruz; they were seething. I could feel it in the way they shifted on their feet, their leather cuts creaking with tension, their hands twitching toward holsters they wouldn’t dare draw at a funeral. My father hadn’t just died—he’d been killed. And no one here was planning to let that slide.

I caught part of a hushed exchange between two older members, their voices low but taut.

“You think it was the Serpents?” one asked, his grizzled face twisted in anger.

“Has to be,” the other replied, his hand tightening into a fist. “No one else would have the balls.”

A younger Viper near them chimed in, his tone bitter. “Doesn’t matter who pulled the trigger. Axel better figure it out fast, or we’re all fucked.”

The tension was palpable, a crackling energy that made my skin prickle. These men weren’t just grieving—they were restless, angry, and looking for someone to blame. And in the absence of a clear target, that anger could just as easily turn inward.

The gravel crunched under Axel’s boots as he stepped forward, the sound loud enough to cut through the murmurs. His presence alone was enough to silence the crowd, every eye turning toward him. He stood tall and rigid, his leather polished and his face set in stone, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw. He wasn’t just their president now; he was their anchor. If he faltered, the whole club would sink.

When he spoke, his voice was steady, but there was an edge to it—a barely controlled fury that sent a chill down my spine.

“Javier Cruz was more than just our president,” Axel began, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “He was a leader, a brother, and a father to this club. He built the Black Vipers from the ground up, gave it his blood, his sweat, his soul. And now, someone thinks they can take that away from us.”

The murmurs started again, low and angry, but Axel raised a hand, and the crowd fell silent.

“His death isn’t just a loss. It’s a call to arms,” he said, his voice rising with each word. “The bastards who did this think they’ve won. They think they’ve weakened us. But they’ve made a mistake. Because now, they’ve given us a reason to fight.”

But as I stood there, watching the crowd, I couldn’t shake the feeling that not everyone shared his conviction. In the back, near the edge of the group, Brody “Mire” Vossthe sergeant-at-arms, was talking in low tones to another Viper, his expression dark. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the way his eyes flicked toward Axel made my stomach twist.

Even Maya Carter, Axel’s sharp, ambitious girlfriend, and the club’s lawyer, seemed uneasy. She stood near the front, her arms crossed over her chest, her lips pressed into a thin line. She was nodding along with Axel’s words, but her eyes darted through the crowd like she was already calculating her next move.

The Vipers were rallying now, but it was a fragile thing, held together by Axel’s words and the weight of my father’s memory. And I couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last.

As the crowd began to disperse, I stayed where I was, watching as Axel accepted handshakes and pats on the back from his men. He was playing the part well, but I could see the cracks beneath the surface.

When he finally approached me, his expression was unreadable. “I didn’t think you’d actually show.”

“You didn’t give me much of a choice,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t snap back. Instead, he let out a low sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know how else to say it, Delilah. I didn’t think you’d come if I didn’t push.”

“Maybe you were right,” I admitted, crossing my arms over my chest. “But I’m here now.”

Axel nodded, his gaze drifting toward the grave. For a moment, the mask slipped, and I saw something raw in his eyes. Grief. Pain. Maybe even regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

“We’re gonna find out who did this,” he said, his voice low but firm. “And we’re gonna make them pay.”

I didn’t doubt that. Axel might have been many things, but weak wasn’t one of them. If anyone could hold the Vipers together after this, it was him. But the cracks were already showing, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning.

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