Page 132 of Victorious: Part 3
Nathan, all young boy awkwardness and inherited stubbornness, extends his hand formally. “Hey, Grandma! You look weird in real clothes.”
Valerie laughs, actually laughs, and pulls him into a hug that makes him melt against her like the boy he still is underneath all that adolescent armor. “Probably because I haven’t worn real clothes for a long, long time, Nate.”
Liberty needs no such encouragement. She launches herself at Valerie with the enthusiasm only a seven-year-old can muster, chattering about school, friends, and everything Grandma hasmissed.
At the same time, Nathan rolls his eyes with the practiced exasperation of older siblings everywhere.
I watch from my position near the bikes, feeling Dad’s hand settle on my shoulder. His touch is warm, grounding, carrying fifteen years of shared victories and losses.
“Hard to believe it’s over,” Dad murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
“It’s not over,” I correct, my gaze sweeping across my girls, my family, the legacy we’ve built from the wreckage of our past. “It’s just beginning.”
Because that’s what I’ve learned in the last fifteen years—nothing ever really ends. It just transforms into something new, something stronger, something worth fighting for.
Haven approaches Valerie carefully, respectfully. There’s history between them. Haven spent time inside with Valerie, trying to figure out the prison system from the inside. Haven was the one who helped plan the rescue, who coordinated the assault that finally brought down the network that was torturing Valerie while she was behind bars. But there’s also guilt there, the weight of all the years they couldn’t save, all the time that was lost.
“Hey, Val,” Haven says, a soft smile touching her lips.
Valerie’s eyes sparkle with unshed tears as she stares at Haven, then reaches out, pulling her in for a tight hug. “Thank you…so much. For everything you’ve done for me and my family, Haven. Honestly, you’ve been a fucking godsend!”
“Bad word, Mama,” Harmony calls out loudly, and Bea grimaces while Loki holds onto Harmony tighter.
“Shh, Harm. Not now, baby,” Bea chides while the rest of us snicker.
Haven shakes her head, exhaling. “I wish I could have done more—”
“Stop that right now. You literally put yourself inside prison for days and spent it with me figuring shit out. I’ve spent the last fifteen years trying to think about how on earth I am going to repay you for that alone,” Valerie states.
Haven’s eyes widen, and she raises her hands in surprise. “What? No. Val, you owe me nothing. Not a single thing. This, seeing you out here with Montana, Rhy, and the kids, this iseverythingwe wanted.”
Valerie’s smile lights up her entire face, causing us to all smile in return. It’s like her whole body is glowing as she glances out at all of us. “Montana’s told me so much about all of you.” Her gaze finds me across the crowd. “Especiallyyou,Poppy.”
The way she says my name, not Hummingbird, not President, just Poppy, makes something clench in my chest. This woman spent over two decades in prison for crimes that were out of her control, and she’s looking at me like I’m something precious, as if I am her granddaughter in spirit, if not in blood.
I walk over, my boots thumping against the asphalt, my girls parting to let me through. When I reach Valerie, she studies my face with the intensity of someone who’s spent years looking at a photograph and is finally seeing the real thing. We met once, fifteen years ago, at my father’s wedding to Haven. But I was a child, and I’ve certainly grown into my skin now. “You look like your mother,” she says quietly. “But you carry yourself like your father.”
I let out a small laugh. “And I fight like my stepmother,” I add, glancing at Haven with a small smile.
Valerie’s laugh is rusty from disuse but genuine. “Montana told me about the Winged Defiance MC. About what you’ve built.” She glances out at my women standing vigil behind me. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. All of you. You took something ugly and made it beautiful.”
Nighthawk steps forward, her red hair catching the afternoonsun. “Mrs. Drake, I’m Cassandra. I… I was one of Javier’s birds before I chose a different path.”
The admission hangs in the air between them, heavy with implication.
Valerie nods, her expression thoughtful. “Montana mentioned you in his visits. He said you helped save all those women in the prison. All the women in the club who you are now the wise one for.” She reaches out and takes Nighthawk’s hand. “We all make choices, dear. What matters is the ones we make when it counts.”
The grace in that moment, the forgiveness, makes me understand why Montana never stopped fighting for his mother. Why Dad respected Valerie enough to risk everything for her freedom. Why she is standing here surrounded by the most dangerous women in California, and they’re all looking at her like she’s made of sunlight and unicorns.
“There’s something else,” I say, stepping closer. “Something we wanted to ask you.” Valerie tilts her head, curiosity bright in her eyes. “The Winged Defiance MC… we’re looking for a club grandmother. Someone to guide us, to remind us where we came from and where we’re going. Someone who understands what it means to survive when the world tries to break you.”
Her eyes widen, tears gathering at the corners. “You wantmeto—”
“Be their matriarch,” Haven finishes. “Their compass. Their conscience. No one knows more about survival than you, Val.”
Valerie smirks at Haven, tilting her head. “This was your idea?”
Haven winks at her as Montana’s hand finds his mother’s shoulder, and I see the emotion warring across his face. Pride, love, fear. It’s the complex cocktail of a man watching his mother step into a new chapter of her life.
