The dimly lit room smelled of smoke and leather—comforting, familiar, as close to "home" as Bear had ever known. Lately, though, something had changed. Bear's focus in club meetings was slipping, his mind wandering to places it shouldn't, though his attention to detail when it came to club business and safety had stayed as sharp as ever. The club depended on him, just as much as they depended on Prez. In some ways, they were like brothers—brothers by choice, bound by shared interests, a way of life, and, sometimes, even women. Although that last part wouldn't fly if they were blood brothers, Bear thought with a slight smirk.

A chill raced down his spine as smoke curled through the slivers of light that slipped through thin, yellowed curtains. Every patched member was there, waiting for Prez to announce the next steps after last night's shootout. The absence of several key members was palpable. Some of the sharpest guys were missing from the table—some laid up in the back with Doc, still getting patched up. A few were gone for good. And every time, the weight of that realisation hit them hard.

Hospitals weren't an option. Too many questions would be asked, and the police would waste no time tying them to the shootout, bringing down as many as they could. The club looked after its own; they all understood that when they joined. And, sooner or later, everyone made peace with the idea that they'd end up doing some time. The question was never if they'd get caught—it was what they'd give up when they did.

"..Bear?" Prez's deep voice cut through the haze..

The brothers attention turned to Bear, who had spaced out for the last half hour. Lost again, as he'd been in too many recent meetings, he cleared his throat and lleaned one elbow onto the table, giving Prez a look that was an apology in itself.

"Bear will oversee the leadership transition at our most profitable business, Shameless." Catcalls broke out, filling the room with a fresh surge of excitement at the mention of the city's most desired strip club. Shameless wasn't just a hotspot for bachelor parties and worn-out husbands; it was the lifeblood of the clubs operating in the city, the hub of their operations. Business meetings took place there, right under the noses of police officers distracted by the dopamine rush provided by the club's "bunnies,".

Prez's voice called out again, steady and firm. "Bear?"

Bear rose from his seat, his presence filling the room, radiating authority and purpose. "Thank you, Axle," he said, nodding to Prez. Clearing his throat, he continued, "I'll need four bodyguards working shifts, plus two more to survey the building's interior. Anyone with bartending experience should be trained to cover shifts as needed. And any bunnies who are interested can audition for dancing or waitressing positions."

Pausing for a moment Bear turned to Axle "We'll need the Accountant again." They exchanged a knowing look. This was not their first transition of power, though it was Bears first time managing a club merger. In the past, their fathers had coordinated similar takeovers, and the Accountant had been their trusted lifeline, navigating the club through some tight financial spots.

Detailed discussions kept the members occupied for hours. By the end they had a clear plan of moving forward. They agreed that anyone who wanted to leave would be free to go, while those who chose to stay from the Red Kings would be gradually brought into their inner circle before officially being patched in as Devil Riders.

When the final bell sounded, the members began filing out of the room, some tapping Bear on the shoulder, others stopping to shake Prez's hand. The room emptied, and Bear looked over at Prez. "It won't be as simple as it looks on paper." He motioned to the meeting notes. "There'll be pushback—maybe even more than we can anticipate." He shook his head "Hell we might even lose more family."

Prez nodded, rubbing his short beard thoughtfully. "You ready brother?" He extended his arm, palm open.

They clasped hands, locking into a familiar man-hug. The grin on their faces and the glint of anticipation in their eyes said more than a hundred words.

"Yeah, brother," Bear replied, sealing their unspoken pact to face the challenges ahead, side by side.

Leaving the meeting room, known as 'church' room or its sacredness to the club members, much like a church is to the devout, they saw their family gathered, celebrating and ready for the work ahead.

The president walked over to the bar, where a middle-aged man in glasses and a polo shirt poured him a shot. The bar's attention focused on him, their leader, who had reached this point through hard work and unyielding resolve, ready to lead his people into the next stage of the club's journey with his most trusted by his side. He rested a firm hand on Bear's shoulder, a gesture that spoke of unity and the unwavering trust between them.

"Since I already have all the attention," he began, drawing whistles and murmured laughs from those nearby. "lets make the most of this night. Tomorrow, we work our fucking asses off!" His voice rose with every word, ending in a triumphant shout, echoed by all the patched members as they raised their glasses in salute, downing their drinks in unison.

The room was a mix bag of bachelors with bunnies at their sides, ready for a wild night, and new couples making out intensely in the corner booths. Not many had steady relationships but once they did there was no debate about their status. They were family, once a member claims them that is. Clearly rules deviated if the woman was already a part of the family by blood. And that process could be lethal to any member no matter their rank.

That was one thing Bear and his Prez didn't have to worry about. There were no living Devil Riders princesses old enough to spark their interest. As they stood leaning against the bar, Candice, one of the older more experienced bunnies with her own status among their men grabbed Bear by the loops of his jeans. The heat between them was immediate. Within seconds, Bear was leading her up the wooden stairs to the living quarters, her heels clicking in rhythm as she followed.

There was no hesitation between them when it came to what they wanted. Candice often joked with the newbies that she was too set in her ways to take on a man. And Bear was too rough around the edges, his coarse personality carrying through in every part of his life—personal, professional and especially erotic. After a night with him, any woman was left swooning, though few ever got a second round - except Candice. 

Word Count: 1129