Page 76 of Manic

I watch as Gwen gently examines Meghan's face, her touch professional but kind.

Meghan sits still, her eyes meeting mine over Gwen's shoulder.

I can see the pain there, not just physical, but emotional.

The weight of her confession hangs heavy in the air.

"Yep, you definitely need stitches," Gwen confirms after a moment.

She reaches into her med kit, pulling out a small tube. "I'm going to use liquid stitch. It'll hold better and hurt less than traditional stitches."

As Gwen works, applying the liquid stitch with practiced ease, I find myself lost in thought.

How long has Meghan been carrying this secret?

How much danger is she in now that we know?

And what the hell are we going to do about her father?

"All done," Gwen announces, stepping back to survey her work. "Try not to talk for a couple of minutes, okay? Let it settle."

Meghan nods, giving Gwen a grateful look.

She waits a moment, letting the liquid stitch set as Gwen instructed.

When she finally speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.

"There's more, Tor." She swallows hard, wincing as the movement pulls at her split lip. "My father... he told me that Tindra and I were going to be part of his group. His followers. His people. That we’d be breeders." Her voice breaks on the last word, and I can see the disgust written plainly across her face. "Itold him we wouldn't. That's when he..." She gestures vaguely at her injuries.

My blood runs cold at her words.

The thought of Meghan and our daughter in the clutches of that racist, drug-pushing piece of shit makes me want to tear the clubhouse apart with my bare hands.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady.

"He won't touch either of you," I growl, reaching out to gently cup Meghan's face. "I swear it, Meghan. I'll do whatever I can to keep you both safe."

As I say the words, I realize just how true they are.

I'd burn the whole world down if it meant protecting Meghan and Tindra.

It's a feeling that both exhilarates and terrifies me.

I've never felt this strongly about anyone before, and the depth of my emotions catches me off guard.

Meghan leans into my touch, her eyes closing briefly.

When she opens them again, I can see the conflict there. "I don't want to put you in danger," she murmurs. "Or the club. Maybe... maybe we should just leave. Start fresh somewhere else."

The thought of Meghan and Tindra leaving sends a jolt of panic through me. I shake my head firmly. "No. You're safest here, with us. With me." I look around at my brothers, seeing the determination on their faces. "We protect our own, and you're my family. Your father won't know what hit him."

The room falls into an uneasy silence, the weight of Meghan's revelation pressing down on all of us.

I meet my father’s eyes, seeing my own anger and determination reflected there.

One thing's for sure—the Patriot's days of terrorizing our town are numbered.

And if I have anything to say about it, he'll pay dearly for what he's done to Meghan.

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