Page 5 of Justice

I take a deep breath, my chest shaking with the effort. The words come out softly, but with unwavering certainty. "I want my baby, Daddy."

My father's eyes, usually so strong and sure, are now filled with a mix of emotions I can't quite decipher. His hand, rough from years of hard work, gently brushes a strand of hair from my face. I lean into his touch, seeking comfort in its familiarity.

"Oh, sweetheart," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "Your mom and I… we're here for you. Always." He pauses, swallowing hard. "We'll help you, support you every step of the way. This won't stop you from following your dreams, Elle. You hear me? You won't face this alone."

The fear that had been gnawing at my insides, the fear of disappointing him, begins to dissolve. In its place, a warmth spreads through my chest, bringing with it a glimmer of hope.

"I know, Daddy," I say, my voice stronger now. "You always told me that no matter what, you've got me."

He nods, pulling me close again. I can feel his heart beating against my cheek, its steady rhythm a reminder of his unwavering presence in my life.

"That's right, baby girl," he murmurs into my hair. "And I meant every word."

We stay like that for a moment, the silence of the bathroom broken only by our breathing. Then, hesitantly, my father speaks again.

"Elle," he starts, his voice careful. "I need to ask… do you remember anything about… about who did this to you?"

The question sends a chill down my spine, bringing with it flashes of that night, the dizzy confusion, the fear, the pain. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to focus.

"I… I'm not sure," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's all so hazy. But…" I pause, a fragment of my memory surfacing. "There was a tattoo. An anchor, I think. On someone's forearm."

I feel my father tense at this information, but when I look up at him, his face is carefully neutral. He nods slowly, processing what I've told him.

"Okay," he says softly. "That's okay, sweetheart. We'll figure this out together, all right?”

I nod, feeling both exhausted and oddly lighter. There's still so much uncertainty ahead, so many decisions to make and challenges to face. But for now, in this moment, I'm not alone. And that's enough to give me strength for whatever comes next.

Lane

The rumble of a motorcycle engine shatters the early morning quiet. I look up from my paperwork just as Derek's bike screeches to a halt in the club's parking lot. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my gut.

Derek bursts through the front door, his chest heaving, face contorted with a rage I've rarely seen. The air in the room instantly becomes thick with tension.

"What happened, brother?" I ask, rushing toward him.

Instead of answering, Derek whirls around and slams his fists into the wall. Once, twice. The drywall crumbles under his assault, leaving two gaping holes.

The other brothers gather around me, all of us watching Derek warily. We've seen him angry before, but this… this is different. This is a man coming apart at the seams.

When Derek finally turns to face us, the look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It's a look I've seen in the mirror more times than I care to admit—the look of a father whose world has just been shattered.

"What happened?" I repeat, my voice low and urgent.

Derek's words come out in a choked whisper, each one hitting me like a physical blow. "Someone raped my baby."

The room goes dead silent. For a moment, I can't process what I've just heard. Then, white-hot rage floods my system.

"Who was it?" I roar, my hands clenching into fists. "I'm going to fucking tear them apart!" The thought of someone touching Elle, hurting her like that… it makes me want to set the world on fire.

Derek shakes his head, his voice raw with pain. "She doesn't know. She woke up in a field in the middle of the woods, alone." He pauses, swallowing hard before delivering the final blow. "Now she's pregnant."

"Fuck me," I growl, slamming my hands down on a nearby table. The wood groans in protest, but I barely notice. My mind is racing, trying to make sense of this nightmare.

Someone has attacked one of ours. One of our kids. They've signed their own death warrant, and they don't even know it yet.

I look at Derek, seeing the fight slowly returning to his eyes. Good. We're going to need that fire.

"Let's find out what the hell happened to our princess," I tell him, my voice low and menacing. "And then we'll bury the bastard who did this."

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