Page 36 of Mercy

"We're going to handle it," I assert, meeting each woman's gaze in turn. "Whatever this Patriot throws at us, we'll be ready."

The conviction in my words surprises even me.

My father emerges first, followed by some of the other brothers.

My father's eyes immediately lock onto Fern, and he calls out to her.

"Fern—" he begins, but she cuts him off before he can continue.

"Don't worry about it," Fern says, her voice steady and assured.

She glances at me, almost like she’s proud. "I forced Tor to bring me up to speed."

I watch as my father's expression shifts, a mixture of relief and concern flashing across his face.

He nods, accepting Fern's words without argument.

It's one of the things I've always admired about their relationship—the trust, the lack of bullshit between them.

"Listen up," he says, his tone inviting no argument. "No one, and I mean no one, is coming into our city and stirring shit up. Not after everything we've been through with the cartel."

I watch as his gaze hardens, his jaw clenching in theway that it does when he's dead serious about something. "I won't allow it to happen. We've bled too much, fought too hard to let some outsider waltz in and threaten what's ours."

The room falls silent, everyone hanging on his words.

I feel a swell of pride in my chest, mixed with a familiar knot of worry.

My father, the unshakeable leader, the man who's guided us through hell and back.

"We've faced worse," he continues, "and we've come out stronger. This 'Patriot'? He's just another punk who doesn't know who he's messing with."

As I listen to my father's words, my mind drifts back to that hospital room, the beeping of machines, the smell of antiseptic.

I remember the look on his face when he thought I might not make it.

The fear that I'd never seen before, raw and unguarded.

Since then, I've noticed a change in him.

The way his eyes follow me more closely, how he's quicker to step in when there's even a hint of danger.

It's subtle, but it's there.

"Tor." My father's voice snaps me back to the present. "You with us, son?"

I nod, meeting his gaze. "Always, Dad. We've got this."

Dad runs a hand through his graying beard, his eyes scanning the room. "All right, I've got some shit to handle with the boys. Tor, Magnus, you two stay back here."

Magnus, ever the cautious one, leans forward. "Should we be on high alert, Prez?"

My father shakes his head, his expression softening slightly. "No, nothing like that. Just stay here or head back over to the clubhouse. Keep your eyes open, but don't go looking for trouble."

I nod, “Sounds good. Won’t let you down, Dad.”

He offers me a soft smile. “You never do, son.”

I turn and see Meghan’s now at the bar.

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