Page 79 of Manic

It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once, this connection that seems to be growing stronger by the day.

Tor's bottle green eyes lock onto mine, and I can see the concern etched in his features.

Taking a deep breath, I let my guard down. "I’m going to be okay. I'm tired, Tor. So damn tired," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm exhausted from constantly looking over my shoulder, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I just... I want to be at peace. Is that too much to ask?"

The words tumble out, and with them, the emotions I've been holding back.

My eyes sting with unshed tears, and I blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay.

Tor's expression softens, and he reaches out, his fingertips brushing gently against my cheek.

The tenderness of the gesture nearly undoes me.

"I'm going to handle this, Meghan," he says, his voice low and determined. "I'll take care of it. You don't have to run anymore."

His words, meant to comfort, instead send a jolt of fear through me.

I shake my head, feeling the first tears spill over.

"You don't understand," I choke out. "My father... he isn't someone you can just handle. He's not like other threats you've faced."

I think about all the times I've tried to escape, all the close calls, all the people who've been hurt because they tried to help me.

The weight of it all crashes down on me, and I can't hold back the sob that escapes my throat.

"You don't know what he's capable of," I continue, my words coming out in a rush. "He has connections, resources. He's relentless. I've seen what happens to people who get in his way, Tor. I can't... I can't let that happen to you. To any of you."

Tor's jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with a fierce determination that both thrills and terrifies me.

He cups my face in his hands, his calloused palms rough against my tear-stained cheeks.

"Listen to me, Meghan," he says, his voice low and intense. "The club can handle any threat that comes our way. We've dealt with cartels, rival gangs, corrupt cops. Your father might be a monster, but he's not invincible."

I want to believe him.

God, how I want to believe him.

The Raiders of Valhalla aren't just any motorcycle club—they're my second family.

I've seen their strength, their loyalty, their ruthlessness when pushed.

But even as I nod, a cold knot of dread settles in my stomach.

My father isn't just another threat.

He's a nightmare made flesh, a man who sees his own daughter as nothing more than a commodity to be traded or disposed of.

The club may be strong, but are they strong enough to withstand the full force of his wrath?

I swallow hard, trying to push down the fear threatening to choke me. "Tor, please," I whisper, my fingers curling around his wrists. "Promise me you'll be careful. Please."

His expression softens, and he leans in, pressing his forehead against mine. "I promise, baby. But you don't need to worry about me, not in the slightest. I can handle myself."

A laugh bubbles up in my throat, half-hysterical. "That's all I've ever done," I admit, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. "Worry about you. From the moment I met you, I've been terrified of losing you. Because... because that's what you do when you love someone."

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with meaning.

I watch as Tor's eyes widen, a mix of surprise and something deeper, more profound, flickering across his face.

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