Page 50 of Manic

Runes, the club president and Tor’s father, sits at the head, his weathered face breaking into a rare smile as we approach.

Beside him is his wife, Fern, her sharp eyes taking in every detail of our arrival.

"Well, well," Runes says, his voice a low rumble. "Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence."

I stiffen at his words, but Tor places a calming hand on my back. "Dad," he says, a warning in his tone. "Be nice."

Runes chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender. "Just teasing, son. It's good to see you both." He turns to Tindra, his expression softening. "And you must be my granddaughter. I'm yourvaarin, your grandfather."

Tindra's eyes light up. "Really? I have a grandfather?"

The excitement in her voice makes my chest tighten.

How much has she missed out on because of my choices?

As Tor continues the introductions, I find myself drifting, lost in memories and doubts.

The noise of the party fades into the background as I struggle with the weight of my decisions.

"Hey," Fern's voice cuts through my thoughts.

I blink, realizing she's moved to stand beside me. "You look like you could use a drink."

I laugh, the sound a bit hollow even to my own ears. "That obvious, huh?"

She shrugs, a knowing look in her eyes. "Let's just say I recognize that deer-in-headlights look. Come on, I'll get you a beer."

As we make our way to the bar, I cast a glance back at Tindra.

She's deep in conversation with Tor and Runes, her face animated as she listens to whatever story they're telling.

She looks... happy.

At home.

"She'll be fine," Fern says, following my gaze. "Tor won't let anything happen to her."

I nod, accepting the beer she hands me. "I know. It's just... a lot to take in."

Fern leans against the bar, studying me over the rim of her glass. "You want to talk about it?"

For a moment, I consider brushing her off.

But the concern in her eyes is genuine, and suddenly, I find myself longing for a friendly ear.

"I don't know if I made the right choice," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "Keeping her away for so long. She seems so happy here, and I... I robbed her of that."

Fern's expression softens. "You did what you thought was best," she says. "We all make choices we regret sometimes. The important thing is, you're here now."

I take a long swig of my beer, letting the cold liquid soothe my nerves. "Yeah, but how long until shit hits the fan? This world... it's dangerous. I left for a reason."

"Things have changed," Fern says, her voice low. "It's not perfect, but it's better than it was."

I want to believe her, but years of fear and suspicion are hard to shake.

Before I can respond, a commotion near the door catches my attention.

Two men in suits have entered, their presence immediately setting the room on edge.

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