Page 82 of Manic

Starla flits around her, chopping vegetables, while Aziza arranges an array of decadent desserts on the counter.

My chest tightens at the sight of Meghan.

It's been a week since her bastard of a father attacked her at the mall, and I still can't shake the image of her bruised and battered face from my mind.

Having her here, safe in the clubhouse, eases some of the anxiety that's been gnawing at me.

But I know it's only temporary.

Sooner or later, we'll have to face the reality of the situation.

I clear my throat, announcing my presence. "Something smells good in here."

Meghan looks up, a smile lighting her face. "Hey, you. Just in time for a taste test."

I cross the room, sliding an arm around her waist and dropping a kiss on her temple. "Lucky me. What's on the menu?"

Meghan leans into me for a moment before turning back to the stove. "Starla's famous chili, cornbread, and enough sides to feed an army,"

I inhale deeply, savoring the rich scent. "Smells like heaven."

Starla grins, brandishing her knife. "Don't let the boys hear you say that. They might think you've gone soft."

I snort, moving to grab a beer from the fridge. "Let 'em try to say that to my face."

As I crack open the bottle, my gaze falls on Tindra, curled up in the corner of the main room with a book.

My daughter.

The word still feels foreign on my tongue, a mix of wonder and disbelief.

She looks up, offering a shy smile, and I feel my heart constrict.

"How's the book, kiddo?" I ask, leaning against the counter.

Tindra holds it up, revealing a worn copy of "The Hobbit." "It's really good. I like all the adventures."

I nod, a memory stirring. "I read that when I was about your age. Maybe we can watch the movies together sometime?"

Her eyes light up. "Really? That would be awesome!"

Meghan catches my eye, her expression soft.

I know she's been worried about how Tindra and I would bond, given the circumstances.

But it's been surprisingly easy.

The kid's smart as a whip and has a wicked sense of humor that catches me off guard sometimes.

"So, what's the occasion?" I ask, gesturing to the feast in progress. "Club meeting I forgot about?"

Aziza laughs, sliding a tray of cookies into the oven. "Does there need to be an occasion for good food and good company?"

I raise an eyebrow. "In this place? Usually."

Meghan turns, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "I just thought it would be nice to do something for everyone. They've all been so supportive this past week."

Gods, the constant threats looming over us like a storm cloud.

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