Page 41 of Manic

The massive Raiders of Valhalla logo painted on the far wall looms over everything, a constant reminder of who we are and what we stand for.

My father, Runes, is behind the long, curved bar that Magnus crafted.

His weathered hands are wrapped around a glass of whiskey, his piercing gaze fixed on me as I approach.

I slide onto a barstool. "You wanted to see me?"

He nods, pushing a glass toward me. "Have a drink with your old man."

I eye the amber liquid, debating.

It's been a few days since I've had a drop of alcohol, wanting to keep a clear head for my talks with Tindra.

But refusing would raise suspicions, so I take a small sip, letting the burn settle in my throat.

"You've been scarce lately," he observes, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "Everything all right with you?"

I force myself to meet his gaze steadily. "Yeah, just been thinking about some things. Needed a bit of space to clear my head."

He grunts, not entirely convinced. "Club business or personal?"

"Personal," I admit.

It's not a lie, not really.

Runes leans in closer, lowering his voice. "Meghan?"

I can't help the way my body tenses at her name.

My father doesn't miss it, his eyebrows raising slightly.

"It's complicated," I say finally, taking another sip of whiskey to buy myself time.

"Son, when it comes to women, it's always complicated," Runes chuckles. "But you've been different since she came back to town. I'm not blind."

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of my secret pressing down on me.

Part of me wants to tell him everything—about Tindra, about the dinners we've shared, about the way my heart feels like it might burst every time I look at her.

But another part of me wants to keep this precious, new thing to myself for just a little longer.

"I'm just... figuring some things out," I say finally. "With Meghan, with myself. It's a lot to process."

Runes nods slowly, studying my face. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Not just as your President, but as your father."

The sincerity in his voice nearly breaks me. I swallow hard, fighting back the urge to spill everything. "I know, Pops. And I appreciate that. I just need a little more time to sort through it all myself first."

He claps a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "All right, son. Just don't let it interfere with club business. We've got thatsituation brewing with the cartel, and I need your head in the game."

I nod, grateful for the change of subject. "Of course. Any new developments?"

As he fills me in on the latest intel, my mind drifts back to Tindra.

I think about her laugh, so similar to Meghan's, and the way her eyes light up when she talks about her favorite books.

I think about how much I've missed, and how desperately I want to make up for lost time.

But I also think about the dangers that come with this life.

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