Page 9 of Wrath's Redemption

Anna makes another wheezing sound in her sleep, and my resolve hardens. By this time tomorrow, she'll be settled in her new home. By next week, she'll be scheduled for surgery. And by the time she's grown, she'll know exactly how far her father will go to keep her safe.

Angel picks up on the third ring. After a quick explanation and some excited squealing about having a niece, I end the call and turn back to Lucy. She's folding tiny clothes, her movements careful, controlled. Too controlled.

"Why didn't you tell me?" The question comes out before I can stop it. "When you found out you were pregnant. Why keep it from me?"

Her hands still on a small pink onesie. For a long moment, she doesn't answer, just stares down at the fabric like it holds some secret message.

"I saw the news," she finally says, voice barely above a whisper. "Three weeks after... after that night. A shootout at some bar. They said it was between rival motorcycle clubs. Three dead."

I remember that night. The Outlaws had ambushed us, tried to take our territory. We'd put them down hard.

"That's business," I say flatly. "Club business."

"That's exactly why." She turns to face me, green eyes blazing. "I was already suspicious I might be pregnant, and then I saw that.Saw what your world was really like. I'm a kindergarten teacher, Wrath. I spend my days teaching kids their ABCs and making sure they don't eat paste. I didn't want..." She glances at Anna's sleeping form. "I didn't want my baby growing up in a world of violence."

Anger flares in my gut, hot and familiar. "So you decided she shouldn't have a father at all?"

"I decided she should be safe!"

"Safe?" I step closer, lowering my voice when Anna stirs. "You think she's safe now? Sick, needing surgery you can't afford? You think that's better than having a father who could protect her? Who could give her everything she needs?"

"A father who comes home covered in blood?" Her eyes fix on the stains on my cut. "Who carries guns and gets into shootouts?"

"Everything I do – everything – is to protect what's mine." I reach out, catching her chin with my fingers, making her look at me. "And she's mine, Lucy. My blood. My daughter. You can't change that, no matter how much you might want to."

"I don't..." She swallows hard. "I don't want to change it. Not anymore. But this life, your life... it scares me."

"Good." My thumb traces her jawline, feeling her pulse jump. "It should. Because this life is dangerous. But it's also family. Loyalty. Protection. Anna won't just have a father – she'll have uncles, aunts, an entire club ready to die for her."

"That's what scares me most," she whispers. "That someone might have to."

I let my hand drop, step back. "The only people who need to be scared are the ones who'd try to hurt her." My voice hardens. "And trust me, Lucy, they'd only try once."

She shivers, though whether from fear or something else, I can't tell. "Once is enough. I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it." I move to the dresser and start pulling out more clothes. "You just have to accept it. Because I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. Not anymore."

Lucy's hands slam against my chest, frustration evident in every line of her body. I don't move an inch – her push is like a kitten batting at a lion.

"Who do you think you are?" she hisses, careful to keep her voice down for Anna's sake. "You can't just march in here and take control of our lives. You're so... so cold about all of this."

Cold. The word hits harder than her push did. She has no idea – no fucking clue – what made me this way. She doesn't know about the old man, drunk and raging, fists flying. Doesn't know about the endless parade of foster homes, each one worse than the last. How Crow, all of sixteen, would take the beatings meant for his little brother, because I was too weak to fight back.

Never again, I'd promised myself. Never weak. Never vulnerable.

I step forward, ready to tell her exactly why I am the way I am, why Anna will never know that kind of fear or helplessness—

"What the hell is going on here?"

We both turn to find a woman in scrubs standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of confusion and alarm. The family resemblance is clear – same delicate features as Lucy, though her hair is darker.

"Sarah," Lucy breathes. "I... we..."

"Who are you?" Sarah demands, her eyes fixed on me. They widen as she takes in my cut, the blood stains, the obvious tension in the room. "Lucy, what's happening?"

"He's Anna's father," Lucy says quietly.

Sarah's face goes pale. "The biker? The one-night stand?" Her hand moves toward her pocket – probably reaching for a phone. "Lucy, get away from him. I'm calling the police."

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