Page 46 of Wings (Heavy Kings MC #5)
Wings
T he chapel's candles threw shadows that danced across leather cuts and weathered faces, fifty brothers packed into a space meant for half that number.
I stood at the makeshift altar, hands clasped behind my back.
The incomplete cut felt lay heavy across my shoulders—bottom rocker proclaiming Heavy Kings MC, side patches marking rank and territory, but that empty space at the top screaming prospect, unfinished, not quite worthy.
Tonight that would change.
My eyes found Kiara in the front row before I could stop them.
Navy dress from our contract signing, the one that made her look like some kind of dangerous angel.
The butterfly collar caught every flicker of candlelight, silver wings spreading across her throat like a promise.
She sat between Mia and Mandy, but I only saw her—the way she held herself straight and proud, hands folded in her lap, watching me with eyes that held everything.
Love, pride, complete faith that I belonged here.
The sight of her grounded me when my thoughts wanted to spiral.
Thoughts of my brother filled my mind. The email with evidence of his skimming still sat in Dex's outbox, unsent.
Every morning I woke up knowing I held Alex's life in my hands, every night I went to bed having chosen to let him live another day.
Duke stepped forward, and the chapel fell silent like someone had thrown a switch. The wooden box in his hands might as well have been made of gold for how carefully he held it.
"Brothers," his voice filled every corner of the room without trying. "We gather tonight to complete what was started months ago."
Thor flanked him on the left, massive frame barely contained in his dress shirt and cut. Tyson took the right, sharp eyes cataloging every face like he was already writing this into club history. My sponsors, my brothers, the men who'd vouched for me when I'd shown up broken and desperate.
"Gabriel Moreno came to us in pieces," Duke continued, and I felt the weight of every eye in the room. "Lost his leg serving this country. Lost his way when he came home. Could have been another casualty, another good man ground down by a world that takes more than it gives."
My prosthetic ached the way it did when memories got heavy.
"Instead, he chose to rebuild. Not just himself, but us.
The medical supply runs that keep our brothers alive when hospitals would ask too many questions.
The security protocols that helped us spot Serpent surveillance before it became a problem.
The careful balance of a personal situation that could have compromised us but instead made us stronger. "
Kiara shifted slightly in her seat, and I caught the pink flush creeping up her neck. Duke was talking about her without saying her name, acknowledging what everyone knew—that my relationship with her had been a risk that paid off.
"Three supply runs completed without a single incident," Duke listed off.
"Seventeen injured brothers treated with supplies that wouldn't have been available otherwise.
A complete overhaul of our operational security that's already prevented two potential breaches.
And when faced with a threat to someone under our protection, he handled it with precision and intelligence instead of emotion and violence. "
That last bit was about Alex, though most of the brothers didn't know the full story.
Just that there'd been a threat, I'd dealt with it, and it hadn't blown back on the club.
They didn't know about the three AM infiltration, the cloned phone, the evidence that could destroy my brother with a single click.
"Some men are born into brotherhood," Duke said, voice dropping into ceremony. "Others earn it through trial. Gabriel Moreno, called Wings for the ink on his back and his history in the sky, has proven himself in every way we measure a man."
The box opened with a soft click. Inside, black leather embroidered with white thread: IRONRIDGE. The top rocker that would complete my cut, mark me as full member, no longer prospect but brother in every sense that mattered.
"Gabriel Moreno," Duke's voice went formal, with words that had been spoken in this chapel hundreds of times before. "Do you swear loyalty to this brotherhood above all others?"
"I do." The words came out steady despite the tightness in my throat.
"Do you swear to protect your brothers, their families, and their interests with your life?"
"I do."
"Do you accept the responsibilities and consequences of wearing our colors, knowing that this bond is eternal?"
Eternal .
No take-backs, no second thoughts, no walking away when things got hard. This was marriage to an idea, adoption into a family that would kill or die for each other without hesitation.
"I do."
Duke lifted the rocker from its box with the reverence of a priest handling communion wine. The chapel held its breath as he stepped close, close enough I could smell the leather and tobacco and bourbon that clung to him like armor.
His hands pressed the rocker onto my cut, directly above the Heavy Kings bottom rocker, completing the set. In time, it would be stitched on, but for now, it stayed there with adhesive. For a moment, we stood frozen in tableau—president and newly patched member, power recognizing power.
"Welcome to full brotherhood, Wings."
The chapel exploded. Fifty voices raised in celebration, boots stomping approval that shook dust from the rafters. Brothers surged forward, hands reaching to slap my back, pull me into embraces that smelled like motor oil and loyalty.
"About fucking time," Thor growled, nearly crushing my ribs with his embrace. "Prospect period felt like it lasted forever."
"Proud of you, brother," Tyson said quieter, his handshake firm and meaningful. "You've earned this ten times over."
Through the press of bodies, I found Kiara still in her seat, tears streaming down her face as she watched me accept congratulations. Our eyes met across the chaos, and her smile hit me like a physical blow. Pure pride, pure love, pure certainty that this was where I belonged.
My phone buzzed in my pocket—probably Dex wondering if tonight's celebration meant sending that email.
I ignored it. Tomorrow I'd face the choice again, decide whether my brother lived or died.
But tonight I was a Heavy King, complete and whole, surrounded by the family I'd chosen and who'd chosen me back.
This was what I'd lost my leg for, what I'd come home broken for, what I'd rebuilt myself for.
This was worth everything.
The bourbon burned sweet down my throat, the third shot pressed into my hand since the ceremony ended twenty minutes ago.
King's Tavern had transformed into a celebration that would be talked about for years—patches and prospects mixing freely, someone had dragged in speakers from the garage, and Thor was already organizing an arm-wrestling tournament that would end in broken furniture.
"To Wings!" Another toast, this time from Wiz, the old-timer who'd survived three different club presidents. "May your flight with the Kings be long and profitable!"
Kiara stayed close, her hand finding mine between congratulations.
She'd changed tactics after the ceremony, no longer sitting quietly but charming brothers with stories about my young days. It was a blessing to have someone good from my past here. I’d always be grateful to her for being part of my life.
The way she fit into this new world, adapted to its rhythms while keeping her own strength—it made my chest tight with something beyond pride.
"I remember a time," she started, voice clear above the music and chatter, "when Wings here thought he could actually fly." The crowd hushed around us, eager for the tale. I shot her a playful glare, but inside, warmth spread at the memory she was about to share.
"It was the summer of '98," she continued, mirroring my serious tone with exaggerated gestures. "And our young Wings decided he could soar like an eagle off the roof of the garage. Using a BMX, of course."
“I nearly made it,” I said, my cheeks burning.
Laughter rolled through the group, and I pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Betrayed by my own woman," I murmured against her hair.
"Your woman who's very proud of you," she corrected, tilting her face up. The kiss she gave me tasted like promise and whiskey from the shot she'd stolen earlier.
That's when I saw Tank moving through the crowd with purpose, his face set in lines that meant business. He caught Duke's eye, leaned close to speak directly into his ear. Whatever he said drained the celebration from Duke's expression in an instant.
Duke's eyes found mine across the room. A small gesture—follow me—and he was already moving toward the back office. Thor caught the signal too, abandoning his arm-wrestling bracket to fall in behind.
"Stay here," I told Kiara, but she was already shaking her head.
"Where you go, I go." Not a question, not a request. A statement of fact delivered with steel underneath.
No time to argue. We followed Duke through the crowd, smiles still plastered on for anyone watching. But once we hit the hallway, the pretense dropped. Duke's stride ate up distance like a man heading to war.
"We have a visitor," he said once his office door closed behind us. "Claims it's life or death."
The side door—the one that led to the alley, used for deliveries and quiet exits—opened before anyone could respond. Two prospects entered first, hands on weapons, eyes scanning for threats even here in the heart of our territory.
Between them, Alex stumbled into the light.