Page 25 of Monk

“We need a VP,” Blackjack interrupted, his voice cutting through the argument like a gunshot.

The room went dead still.

Kansas’ face went blank, all the emotion draining out of it. “What?”

“Pence is dead,” Blackjack said, his tone matter-of-fact, almost cold. “The VP seat is empty. We need to fill it. That’s how this works.”

Kansas’ eyes flashed with something dangerous. “Jesus Christ, Jack, the man’s not even cold yet.”

“And we’re sitting here with our dicks in our hands, waiting for someone to come finish us off,” Blackjack shot back, leaning forward. “We need leadership. We need structure. We need a fucking VP, Kansas. You know I’m right.”

Shadow leaned forward, nodding slowly. “He’s right. You can’t afford to wait. Every day that seat stays empty, you look weaker. You need someone in that seat now. Today.”

Kansas’ hands curled into fists on the tabletop. His breathing was harsh, ragged, like every inhale scraped. I could see him fighting himself—fighting the urge to tell us all to go to hell, to give Pence the dignity of time, to grieve before businessswallowed the body. But he was president. And the club always ate first.

“Fine,” he said finally, the word forced out through gritted teeth. “Nominations.”

“Monk.”

The word came from Whisper, as every head in the room turned toward me.

I didn’t move. Didn’t react. I kept my face blank and my body loose even though my pulse had already kicked into a harder rhythm. This was the moment I’d been dreading since Montana put a bullet through Pence’s head.

“Monk’s the sergeant at arms,” Whisper said, his gravelly voice steady as iron. “He’s level-headed. Strategic. Doesn’t let emotion steer the wheel. He’s been with this club through hell, raids, turf wars, and the massacre. He’s the logical choice.”

“Fuck that,” Trigger spat out immediately, his chair scraping against the floor as he leaned forward. “No offense, Monk, but you’re too quiet. Too in your own head. We need someone who’s gonna lead from the front, not sit back and calculate every goddamn move like it’s a chess game.”

“Like you?” Blackjack asked, his tone dry as desert sand.

Trigger’s eyes flashed dangerously, his jaw tightening. “Yeah. Like me. I’ve been with this club long enough. I’ve bled for it. I’ve killed for it. And I’m not afraid to make the hard calls when shit gets real.”

“You’re also a hothead,” Widow said, arms crossed over his chest. “You’d get us all killed in a week. Maybe less.”

“Fuck you, Widow.”

“Enough!” Kansas’ voice cracked across the room like a whip. He stood at the head of the table, both hands planted flat on the scarred wood. “This isn’t a goddamn popularity contest. We’re not voting on who has the biggest dick or who can yell theloudest. We’re choosing a VP—someone who can lead when I’m not around. Someone the brothers trust with their lives.”

“Then it’s Monk,” Angel said quietly from the corner.. “I trust Monk with my life. Always have.”

“I trust Trigger,” Ashe countered immediately, his voice louder, more insistent. “He’s got fire. He’s got guts. That’s what this club needs right now.”

The room erupted again, voices overlapping in a cacophony of arguments and accusations, brothers taking sides, the tension ratcheting higher and higher with each passing second. Fists pounded the table. Insults flew. Old grudges surfaced.

I sat there, silent, my mind racing at a hundred miles an hour.

And if the Marshals found out I’d risen to VP of an outlaw MC while still in WITSEC, they’d yank me out so fast my head would snap. They’d strip me from everything I’d built here. But if I didn’t take it and Trigger did, we’d be trading one kind of disaster for another. Trigger was reckless—pure instinct, pure adrenaline, no brakes. He’d steer the club straight into a war we weren’t built to survive.

“What about Vivi?”

The question came from Lips, and the room went quiet again.

Kansas’ face darkened. “What about her?”

“She’s Pence’s widow,” Lips explained. “She’s club property now. What do we do with her?”

“She’s notproperty,” Kansas said, his voice low and dangerous. “She’s a woman who has just lost her husband.”

“A husband who was a child rapist,” Trigger said bluntly. “You think she didn’t know? You think she didn’t turn a blind eye?”