Page 12 of Wrath's Redemption

The stairs creak under our feet as we climb to the second floor. Voices drift down the hallway – male voices discussing furniture placement.

"Little to the left," Angel directs as we enter the room. "No, my left, you idiots."

"Language," Wrath growls, glancing at Anna. "Not around my kid."

The big bad biker worried about cursing in front of his sleeping daughter – it would be almost funny if it wasn't so endearing.

The room is larger than I expected, and surprisingly clean. The walls are a neutral beige that will work for a nursery. A plush rocking chair sits in one corner, and bags from what must havebeen a very rushed shopping trip are scattered around. Two prospects are positioning a white crib under Angel's direction.

"We'll paint it whatever color you want tomorrow," Wrath says, carefully transferring Anna from her car seat to the newly positioned crib. "Get some of those wall stickers kids like. Whatever she needs."

Through the open window, I can hear motorcycles in the distance, can smell leather and cigarette smoke. This is about as far from my quiet suburban life as possible. Yet watching Wrath lean over Anna's crib, his large hand so gentle as he strokes her cheek, I feel something shift inside me.

"First thing tomorrow, I'm calling in favors about that surgery." His jaw sets in a determined line. "No daughter of mine is going to struggle to breathe."

Anna stirs slightly, making that worrying wheeze again. Wrath's face darkens at the sound.

"I know it's not what you're used to," he says, turning to me. "The clubhouse, the lifestyle... but she'll be safe here. Protected. The entire club will make sure of it."

As if to prove his point, I notice the prospects have positioned themselves by the door, standing guard. Angel is already organizing baby supplies with frightening efficiency. Even the muffled voices from downstairs seem protective rather than threatening now.

This isn't the life I imagined for Anna. Not even close. But watching Wrath with her – this dangerous man who's already so fiercely devoted to our daughter – I realize something: He might be an Iron & Blood's member, but he's also a father.

And maybe that's exactly what we both need him to be.

Angel glances between us, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Well, I'm heading back downstairs. You two look like you need to talk." She pauses at the door. "And Wrath? Try not to growl too much. You'll wake the baby."

Wrath's jaw tightens, but he says nothing until Angel's footsteps fade down the stairs.

"You can take the chair," he says gruffly, nodding toward the plush rocker. "I'll sleep on the floor. Done it plenty of times."

I sink into the chair, watching as he positions himself against the wall, legs stretched out, ever-vigilant even in rest. "I probably won't sleep tonight anyway."

"Yeah?" His eyes find mine in the dim light. "Why's that?"

"Too much..." I wave my hand vaguely. "Everything. And honestly, I was terrified about how you'd take the news. About Anna."

He's quiet for a long moment, his gaze drifting to our sleeping daughter.

"I'd never..." He stops, clears his throat. "No kid of mine will ever go through what I did. Ever."

"What..." I hesitate, then gather my courage. "What did you go through? I mean, I don't know anything about you, really. Just that one night, and now..."

His laugh is bitter, barely more than a breath. "Not much to tell. Drunk father who liked using his fists. Mother who disappeared when I was four. Foster homes that were worse than the old man." His fingers absently trace a scar on his forearm. "Crow... my brother... he protected me. Took beatings meant for me because I was too weak to fight back."

My heart clenches. "You were a child."

"Yeah." His eyes harden. "But I grew up. Got stronger. Learned that the only way to protect what's yours is to be the scariest thing out there." He looks at Anna again. "She'll never know that fear. Never wonder if today's the day daddy drinks too much and decides to use her for target practice."

Tears burn in my eyes. "Wrath..."

"That's why I earned this name," he continues, voice low and intense. "Because once I got strong enough, I made sure everyone who hurt us felt my wrath. The old man, the foster parents, all of them." His eyes meet mine. "I protect what's mine, Lucy. Whatever it takes."

I find myself sliding from the chair, moving to sit beside him against the wall. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"Yeah." He sighs. "Me too. But we can't change that now. All we can do is make sure she has everything she needs going forward." His arm brushes mine. "Including her father."

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