Page 95 of Viper

The large metal door at the back of the building swings open, and my shoulders tense. I resist reaching for my gun tucked in its holster at my back as two large security guards wearing black-on-black suits step out.

“Mr. Devin will see you both in the Sapphire Room,” the one with striking dark skin and long black dreadlocks says. He gestures to the man next to him with pale skin, shaggy blonde hair, and a long scar down the side of his face. “We will escort you.”

I don’t recognize either of them as club staff, so they must be new security guards. Breaker told me Rune fired all his security and his personal staff besides his driver out of paranoia, but it seems Zane prefers keeping security around. By the looks of them, I’d say they’re from a company and probably more for show than anything.

Guess being attacked in your home and getting your hand demolished would make anyone feel a tad unsafe.

They gesture for us to enter, and I walk through first, Breaker at my heels, into a large room with black damask wallpaper and dull tungsten lights overhead. Techno music pulses through the space, filtering in from the main club at the front of the building like a throbbing heartbeat. Two more security details stand off to the side, both with tanned skin and dark hair, wearing the same black suits and unpleasant expressions. The taller one has a slight feral gleam in his eye that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. My skin itches with a nervous tension as I look around, scanning for hidden threats even though I already know every detail of the building. Where every exit is. Which staff is on duty tonight.

Other than the four large bodyguards, there are no threats. Hell, they aren’t even an actual threat, but being in Rune’s club creates a slick unease that refuses to leave. It doesn’t matter that we planned this for years or that every single move we made was planned precisely to get the desired outcome. That lingering fear of walking into the lion’s den makes me worry we missed some minute detail.

“Gentlemen,” the shaggy blonde says and motions to the two already in the room. “If you will.”

One of them steps forward, intending to pat us down. I shake my head, slowly, glaring at him. “Put a hand on me and lose it.”

He eyes the one who is obviously in charge, but takes a step back.

“You two,” I point to him and then his buddy, “retrieve the trunk from our car and don’t drop it.”

They exchange another look with the shaggy blonde, who gives them a nod. They are large men, but from the stiff way they move, I’d say the bulk is for show, rather than actual strength. These muscles were earned at the gym rather than from years of training.

I bet they take gym selfies.

I glance at Breaker next to me, about to say just that, but when our eyes meet, I keep the words in my mouth.

He’s already pissed, and we just got here. Then again, he’s been pissed all day.

We spoke just briefly after I stormed out of my room, and it was right before we got in the car to go over details. That’s it. Breaker spent the entire day in his room, avoiding me. LikeIwas the one at fault. Maybe I was. But he’s clutching to his hurt and anger, wearing it like armor, which does nothing but pissmeoff.

I was an asshole, needling him to get a reaction, but he took it a step too far.

Not that he knows my past.

But I can’t dwell on that right now. We have bigger problems to face.

Like Zane-fucking-Devin.

Right now, I need to slip into my role as Vince and make sure this meeting goes well. It has to go exactly as planned, or this will never work. I need to play my part to perfection.

I inhale, steeling myself to face the man who took part in killing my brother.

My fingers furl into fists at my sides, letting that old rage, that anger I carried around for years at the injustice of life, wash over me.

Vince is an asshole.

And Zane’s about to meet him.

“This way,” shaggy blonde hair says, motioning us forward.

“I don’t like men I don’t know at my back,” I say.

He gives me a sideways glare before opening a door and moving ahead with his partner.

We walk down a dark hall, lit only by electric blue light glowing from the sleek, modern sconces lining the black walls. Breaker and I follow the two guards, while the other two carry the small trunk we brought, behind us.

I wasn’t kidding. I really don’t like them at our back. But I keep quiet, noting the firearms under the other two men’s suit jackets. We reach the end of the hall, and the blonde stops at a sleek black door and leans forward to swing it open, then gestures for us to enter.

Here we go.