Page 10 of Hellfire's Mercy

"What did you expect? Raw meat and bar fights?"

"Something like that," she admits, and I catch the scent of her perfume – jasmine again. "Instead, I'm eating homemade spicy food while your VP discusses Sunday dinner with his mother."

Sure enough, Butcher's voice carries down the table. "Angel, any chance I could get some of this to go? Mom would love it on Sunday."

"You still doing those Sunday visits, old man?" Crow laughs, reaching for another beer.

Butcher's expression turns serious. "All the strength and power in the world don't mean shit if you leave behind the people who matter, brother. Mom's all I got."

"I'll pack you some extra," Angel says warmly. "Maybe throw in those cookies she likes too."

I watch Chloe's reaction – surprise, then something softer. She's seeing the family side of us, the brotherhood. Not the side that puts bullets in people who cross us. Not the violence that keeps our territory safe.

She's seeing Butcher, the fierce Vice-President, planning Sunday dinner with his elderly mother. Crow, who'd kill for any of us without hesitation, teasing like a brother.

Movement catches my eye – Ruthless leaning way too close to Angel, whispering something that makes my daughter smile. My grip on Chloe's thigh tightens unconsciously.

Angel's grown and can handle herself, but seeing Ruthless's hand brush her arm makes my trigger finger itch. He has been my brother since our time in the military. He’s good in a fight and loyal to the club, but Angel... that's different territory.

"Your daughter seems close to..." Chloe hesitates, clearly trying to remember names.

"Ruthless," I finish, probably more sharply than necessary. "Yeah, I've noticed."

She picks up on my tone. "Not happy about it?"

"Not the time to discuss it." But I make a mental note to have a chat with Ruthless soon. Very soon. Maybe remind him why they call me Hellfire.

"It must be hard," she says softly, "being both a father and a club president."

There's no judgment there, just genuine curiosity. Most people see the patches, the scars, the reputation. She's looking deeper.

"Everything worth doing is hard, sweetheart."

"Is that why you're helping these people?" she asks. "The trafficking victims? Because it's hard but worth doing?"

Clever girl. I study her face, the earnest expression, the intelligence behind those green eyes.

"We might be criminals," I tell her, "but we have a code. What the Outlaws are doing... that crosses every line. There are things you don't do, no matter what side of the law you're on."

"Like what happened to Mark?" she asks.

"Kid was family. You don't hurt family. You don't traffic innocent people. And you don't let bastards like the Outlaws think they can get away with either."

She nods, then surprises me by placing her hand over mine on her thigh. The touch is gentle, almost comforting.

"Thank you for trusting me with this."

"Don't make me regret it."

"I won't." Her green eyes hold mine, and for a moment, everything else fades away – the noisy dinner, Angel's flirting, the war brewing outside.

It's just her, and the way she's looking at me like she sees past the scars and the violence to something else.

Across the table, someone drops a fork, and I notice several knowing looks being exchanged. My men aren't stupid – they can see what's happening here, even if I'm not ready to name it myself.

Butcher clears his throat beside me, breaking the moment.

"Boss, think it's time to show our new friend the evidence?"

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