Page 8 of Wrath's Redemption

"Hey, little girl," I whisper. "I'm your dad."

The word feels foreign on my tongue, but right. So fucking right.

Without thinking, I reach into the crib and lift her into my arms. Lucy makes a small sound of protest, but Anna just snuggles into my chest, apparently unbothered by the leather or the blood or any of it.

"She never lets strangers hold her," Lucy says.

"I'm not a stranger." I press my lips to Anna's forehead, breathing in her baby smell. "I'm her father."

And in this moment, looking down at this tiny piece of me I never knew existed, I make a silent vow. Nothing will ever hurt her. Nothing will ever come close enough to try. I'll burn down the whole fucking world to keep her safe.

Because she's mine. My daughter. My blood.

Her tiny hand reaches up, patting my cheek with curious fingers. Her touch is feather-light, innocent – everything I'm not. Everything I haven't been since I was a teenager.

"Has she..." I clear my throat, fighting past the emotion threatening to choke me. "Has she been in pain?"

Lucy moves closer, her familiar scent mixing with Anna's baby powder. "Some days are harder than others. The medication helps, but..."

A soft wheezing catches my attention. Anna's breathing isn't quite right – too labored for a sleeping baby. My arms tighten around her, as if I could protect her from something inside her own chest.

"Three months?" I ask, thinking of the deadline Lucy mentioned.

She nods, worry lines creasing her forehead. "The surgeon said the sooner the better, but three months is the absolute limit."

"She'll have it next week." The words come out like an order. "I'll make some calls tomorrow."

"Wrath, the waiting lists—"

"Don't exist for people with the right connections." I look down at Anna, who's drifting back to sleep against my cut. "Moneyopens doors, Lucy. And the club... we've got friends in high places."

She opens her mouth to argue, then seems to think better of it. Smart woman. When it comes to Anna's health, there's no room for discussion.

"We should pack some essentials," I say, reluctant to put Anna down but knowing we need to move. "Enough for tonight. The prospects will get the rest tomorrow."

"I still think we should take some time to—"

"No." The word comes out sharper than intended, making Anna stir. I soften my voice. "Every minute she spends away from me is another minute I can't protect her. The clubhouse is secure, and we always have an extra room for emergencies. She'll have everything she needs there."

Lucy bites her lip, a gesture I remember from that night a year ago. "And what about what I need?"

"You need our daughter to be safe and healthy." I meet her eyes. "I can give her both. Let me do this, Lucy. Let me be what she needs. What you both need."

Something shifts in her expression – resignation mixed with something else. Hope, maybe. Or fear. With Lucy, it's hard to tell.

"Start with the dresser," she sighs. "Top two drawers are clothes, bottom one has diapers and supplies."

I lay Anna back in her crib, my hands lingering on her small form. She makes a soft sound of protest that tears at something deep in my chest.

"Pack everything," I tell Lucy as I pull out my phone. "I'm calling for backup."

"Backup?"

"Angel," I explain, already dialing. "She'll help get the nursery set up tonight. No daughter of mine is sleeping in a bare room."

Lucy starts pulling items from drawers, "You don't have to—"

"Yeah, I do." I wait as the phone rings. "Because that's what fathers do. And I've got two months to make up for."

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