Page 34 of Iron and Ivory

That's what I am now.

I let it sit in my chest for one full second—the weight of it, the wrongness and the rightness of it tangled up together, same as everything else in my life—and then I put it somewhere I can carry it and I open my mouth.

"Diesel." I look at him straight. "Vice President."

He doesn't blink. Doesn't smile. Just nods once, slow, like he's been waitin' a long time to be asked the right question.

"Chains." I find him in the room. "Sergeant at Arms."

Chains looks up from under the brim of his cap, jaw workin' slow. He gives me a single nod that says yeah, alright.

"Ratchet. Road Captain."

Ratchet's already got his arms crossed. He tips his chin. Done.

"Vote," I say.

Diesel calls it immediately. "All in favor."

Every hand goes up.

Clean. No hesitation.

"Motion carries," Diesel says. Then looks at me again. "You forgot Secretary Treasurer."

No. I didn't. It's just… I'm not sure which of these assholes can math, let alone be trusted with the money. And there's a second problem, which Diesel picks up on immediately.

"Shit," he mutters. "The cartel."

"Yeah," I mumble back. Ledger, our former secretary/treasurer, was our cartel contact.

Our only cartel contact.

This is bad.

Dusty speaks up. "Legion? I can keep books." He says it like it's obvious. Like he's just offerin' to carry somethin' heavy and doesn't see what the big deal is.

The room doesn't agree.

Things come apart fast. The kind of disorder that comes with men who've been pushed past their limit of irregular and are about to make their opinions known.

"He ain't even patched."

"Doesn't have a cut."

"Been here less than two years and now he's an officer?"

I let it run for about four seconds, but that's it. "Dusty saved my life," I say, flat. It's true, so I say it. "When I was dyin' of sepsis from the brand, he helped Savannah get me to the hospital. Not because he had to, but because he volunteered."

There's some grumblin' at this point. Even Diesel grumbles a bit over this.

I have no idea who was where on that day because I was out of it, so I have no clue why it was Dusty and not Diesel.

But it was. That's just a fact.

"He fought for this club just like the rest of us." I look at the room. "You wanna argue about ceremony right now? Today? After the month we just had?"

Nobody argues. But nobody looks happy either.