บททั้งหมดของ The Serpent's Heart : บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

- Charlotte - "Sit down, dear," Nellie instructed gently, pulling out a leather chair towards the centre of the room. My boots clicked against the hardwood floors, my weight heavy as I sunk into the seat, meeting the eyes of Doc Sheppard, a short, burly guy in his mid-fifties with wireframe glasses and a greying mop of hair he had pulled back. He didn't wear a cut, just a wrinkled button up and jeans, his thick hands moving with familiarity as he rummaged through a leather medical bag that looked older than me. His grey eyes met mine, his expression non-hostile and gentle. "Hey, kiddo," he greeted, a small smile pulling at his lips. "Mind if I have a look at you?" I hesitated for a moment, glancing at Nellie who sat against the desk in the corner, pouring a glass of dark whiskey she'd pulled from the mini-bar. Her bright blue eyes met mine, giving me a small nod that made me sigh. I nodded at Doc. "Let's get this over with," I muttered, my voice low with exhaustion as

- Logan - I stepped into the back of the old barn, the large open concrete floored, wood panelled space housing a few chairs, tables and leftover maintenance equipment for the garage. It smelled of copper, motor oil and a dozen cologne musks and bodies that were currently standing or sitting in the area. The assembled members, some having been called in from their homes, others having drifted out of the clubhouse. Church was where we handled business. Finances, events, supply chains, and more importantly - when someone needed to be put in the dirt. The chairs were filled with the older vested members, most with their arms crossed and brows pulled in a scowl that promised retribution. The younger ones, like me, stood in a loose semi-circle while Prez took the front, looking across us all. He caught my eye as I leaned against the doorway, the distinct smell of sweet malt and fryer grease clinging to my cut as I crossed my arms over my chest, my expression unreadable. He g

Logan had retreated to the corner island, eating quietly while he watched Nellie and I move around in a rhythm born from years of cooking and caring together. Our shoulders brushed as I made sure the burritos stayed warm and Nellie cleaned up after me despite my protest. "You cooked, I clean," she said stubbornly, shoving a burrito and cup of coffee into my hands when I still tried to help, slapping me gently on the side of the leg with a laugh. "Fuck off, Char-Char. Go sit down next to Logan and make sure he doesn't choke on his food," she ordered. I dodged her next swipe, "Fine! I'm going, I'm going!" I chuckled, sliding into the seat next to Logan who was hiding his smirk behind his second burrito. "She's a hard-ass," he teased quietly to me. "She doesn't let anyone cook in her kitchen." Nellie snorted. "Correction - I don't let you cook in my kitchen, Reap," she shot over her shoulder as she washed dishes by hand. "You burn water." "Hey, that's a lie. I can cook!"

- Logan - The heavy oak conference doors clicked shut as Nellie gently steered Charlotte out by the elbow, taking her down toward the main bar to spend some time with some of the club's Old Ladies and members before the legal storm officially hit. I watched the door latch closed, my chest still burning with the residual heat of seeing that video replay on the monitor. "She's holding it together better than most would," Gwen Cassidy noted, sliding her sleek silver laptop back into its leather case with a crisp snap. She adjusted her glasses, looking across the mahogany table at Prez and Bones before her sharp, analytical eyes landed on me. "Which means the delayed crash is going to hit her like a freight train if we don't keep her occupied and protected." "She's a Kane," Prez rumbled, his voice low and firm, though his jaw twitched with the same violent restraint I was fighting. "She's tougher than she looks. But you're right—we make sure she doesn't have a second to look bac

- Logan -The neon sign of the Siren’s Gaze flickered against the damp, miserable evening air, casting a sickly pink glow over the cracked asphalt of the strip club's parking lot.I killed the engine of my bike, letting the Harley's heavy thrum die down into a quiet ticking as it cooled, setting my red and black helmet on the handles. Pulling the folded envelope out of my jacket pocket, I scanned the address one last time. I knew Leo Tannis - he was a piece of shit, owner of a strip club and had hired us to help him move product and act as protection when he made shitty deals. Twelve hours late on a protection payment wasn't just bad business; it was an invitation to remind the local slime why the Vipers controlled this territory. I adjusted my cut, flexing my bandaged left hand to check the stitching still held, and walked across the near-empty carpack. Gravel crunched under my boots, my eyes scanning the area quickly like a predator sweeping its hunting ground. I didn't both