Manic (Raiders of Valhalla MC: New Blood #1)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Tor

My heart skips a beat as I take in the sight before me. Meghan, the woman who's haunted my dreams for years, stands next to a teenage girl who could be her mirror image—except for one startling detail.

"Holy shit," I mutter under my breath, unable to tear my eyes away from the girl's hair.

It's the same dark brown, almost black, as mine.

I can't wrap my head around it.

Meghan, a mother.

The thought hits me like a sucker punch to the gut.

I always pictured her as the mother of my children, not someone else's.

Yet here she is, with a daughter who looks to be in her early teens.

The girl's eyes, though—those are all Meghan.

The same mesmerizing sage green that captured my heart all those years ago.

"Tor?" Meghan's voice snaps me out of my daze. "Are you okay?"

I force a smile, trying to mask the turmoil of emotions churning inside me. "Yeah, just... surprised you have a kid."

My gaze flicks between them, noting the similarities.

The same delicate nose, the same full lips.

The girl—Meghan's daughter—looks between us curiously.

I can see the wheels turning in her head, and I wonder what Meghan's told her about me.

About her ex-biker boyfriend from what feels like a million years ago.

I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. "So, uh, who's this lovely young lady?"

Before Meghan can respond, the girl extends her hand, a confident smile on her face. "I'm Tindra, and you are?"

I take her hand, noting how her grip is firm, just like her mother's. "I'm Tor, an old friend of your mom's from back in the day."

Tindra's eyes light up with recognition.

She cocks her head to the side, studying me intently. "Wait a second. You're the guy in all the photos! Mom, didn't you say that he was?—?"

Meghan's hand claps over Tindra's mouth so fast I almost miss it.

She lets out a nervous laugh, her eyes darting to mine before focusing back on her daughter. "Tindra's a real talker, this one. Never knows when to stop."

I watch as Tindra rolls her eyes dramatically at her mom's interruption.

The gesture is so familiar, so Meghan-like, that it makes my chest ache.

I'm not an idiot.

The similarities between them are striking, but there's something else there too.

Something I can't quite put my finger on.

Meghan clears her throat, clearly trying to change the subject. "So, Tor, can I get you something to eat? We've got some great pastries, sandwiches, or if you're in the mood for something sweeter, our blueberry muffins are to die for."

My stomach growls at the mention of food, reminding me that I haven't eaten since early this morning. "A blueberry muffin sounds perfect, actually. Thanks, Meg."

She nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Coming right up. I'll go grab that for you."

As Meghan turns to head toward the counter, I can't help but wonder what Tindra was about to say before her mom cut her off.

As soon as Meghan's out of earshot, I turn my attention to Tindra.

Time for a little reconnaissance. "So, Tindra, how old are you?" I keep my tone casual, friendly.

Tindra's face lights up, clearly happy to chat. "I'm fourteen, turning fifteen soon!" Her enthusiasm is infectious, reminding me of Meghan when we were young.

I nod and smile, my mind racing.

Fourteen, almost fifteen.

The timing... it can't be a coincidence. "Wow, soon you'll be sixteen and driving," I say, probing for more information.

Tindra laughs, a sound so eerily similar to Meghan's that it sends a shiver down my spine. "Actually, I've already done the research. In Florida, I can get my learner's permit at fifteen! I'll be on the road in no time."

Before I can ask any more questions, Meghan returns, a box of goodies in her hands.

"Here you go, Tor," she says, passing me the box.

Our fingers brush, and I feel that old familiar spark.

I take a moment to really look at her.

Time has been kind to Meghan.

Her curves have filled out in all the right places, her breasts more luscious than I remember.

Her skin is still flawless, glowing even under the café's soft lighting.

My throat goes dry as I drink her in.

"Thanks, Meg," I manage to say, my voice huskier than I intended.

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, it's like no time has passed at all.

I clear my throat, tearing my gaze away from Meghan's intoxicating eyes. "I can't wait to get my eyes on these goodies," I say, letting my voice drop an octave lower.

The double entendre isn't lost on Meghan, whose cheeks flush a delightful shade of pink.

We share another intense staredown, the air between us crackling with unspoken tension.

I notice Tindra looking between us, confusion etched on her young face.

Good.

The last thing I need is for her to pick up on the heat simmering between her mother and me.

Licking my lips, I take a long sip of my latte, savoring the bitter taste that grounds me in the moment. "Well, ladies," I say, setting the cup down with a soft clink, "I've gotta get going... but pop by the clubhouse sometime. Everyone would love to see you."

Meghan's eyes widen slightly, a mix of excitement and apprehension flashing across her face. "I... we'll stop by after we get settled," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I hope you do," I reply, my gaze never leaving hers.

The intensity of our connection is almost palpable, and I find myself reluctant to break it.

With a final nod to Tindra, I walk away from the pickup counter and head for the door.

The cool air hits me as I step outside, clearing my head slightly.

I climb into my truck, the leather seat creaking beneath me.

As I drive back to the clubhouse, my mind races.

Tindra's face swims before my eyes—that dark hair, those light sage green eyes, just like her mother's, set in a face that's the perfect blend of Meghan and... me?

The timeline fits.

She's fourteen, going on fifteen.

And if my math is right...

I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white.

Why wouldn't Meghan tell me if Tindra was mine?

The possibility gnaws at me, a constant ache in my chest.

I try to push the thought aside, focus on the road ahead, but it lingers, persistent and undeniable.

The clubhouse looms into view, a familiar sight that usually brings comfort.

Today, though, it only serves as a reminder of all the years I've missed—years that might have included a daughter I never knew I had.

I make it past the gate and park, walk into the clubhouse, my mind still reeling from the encounter at the coffee shop.

The usual buzz of conversation fills the air, but I barely register it.

My eyes scan the room, taking in the familiar sights—the long, curved bar with its intricate knarr carvings, the scattered tables, the pool tables in the corner.

But everything feels off-kilter like I'm seeing it all through a distorted lens.

Kraken catches my eye from across the room, his brow furrowing as he takes in my uncharacteristic silence.

He makes his way over, concern etched on his face.

"Hey, brother," he says, clapping me on the shoulder. "You're awful quiet. What's goin' on? Ain't like you to miss out on the action."

I meet his gaze, feeling the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. "Well, Meghan's back in town," I say, my voice low and tense, "and she's got a teenage daughter that looks an awful lot like me."

Kraken's eyes widen, and then he lets out a bark of laughter that grates on my already frayed nerves.

Before I can respond, Lexi saunters over, her hips swaying with each step.

Her blonde hair catches the light, but her brown eyes are sharp with curiosity and something else—jealousy, maybe?

Her voice drips with disdain. "Who the hell is Meghan?"

I turn to face her, irritation rising in my chest. "Meghan was my old flame," I say, my tone clipped. "She left ten years before you even came to be part of the club."

Lexi's lips curl into a smirk. "Sounds like she’s ancient history to me," she says, her voice sickly sweet. "You shouldn't be wasting your time thinking about her, Tor. There are plenty of... current options available."

Her words, meant to be seductive, only serve to piss me off further.

I clench my fists at my sides, fighting the urge to lash out.

Who the hell does she think she is?

"You don't know shit about it, Lexi," I growl, my voice low and dangerous. "So why don't you keep your opinions to your fucking self?"

As Lexi's eyes narrow, I feel the tension in the room ratchet up a notch.

But I can't bring myself to care.

All I can think about is Meghan, Tindra, and the possibility that's been haunting me since I left that coffee shop.

She could be my daughter.

Fern's voice cuts through the tension like a knife. "Lexi, shut the fuck up before you get yourself into even more trouble." Her tone is sharp, brooking no argument.

Lexi's face contorts into a pout, but she knows better than to challenge the President's old lady.

With a huff, she turns on her heel and struts away, her hips swaying exaggeratedly.

I watch her go, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering frustration.

The clubhouse suddenly feels too small, too crowded.

I run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly.

"You good?" Fern asks, her voice softer now, concern evident in her eyes.

I meet her gaze, considering my words carefully.

The weight of everything—Meghan's return, Tindra's existence, the possibilities—it all presses down on me. "There's a lot of shit on my mind right now," I admit, my voice low.

As the words leave my mouth, I realize just how true they are.

My thoughts are a tangled mess of past and present, of what-ifs and maybes.

And at the center of it all is a girl with my hair and Meghan's eyes, a possibility I never dared to imagine.

The heavy thud of boots on the wooden floor announces my father's approach before I even see him.

His presence fills the space behind me, his voice gruff but understanding.

"I've been lookin' for you’," he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "We got some shit to look into for Liam and Aleks. They'll be here in another week, and they'll be back next Friday for a club party. Just us, some allies. You know the situation."

I turn to face him, pushing thoughts of Meghan and Tindra to the back of my mind.

The club comes first, it always has.

"What do you need me to do?" I ask, straightening my shoulders.

Runes' eyes narrow slightly, assessing me. "I need you and Geirolf to hit the streets again. See if you can find more of those drugs with the Eagle emblem on the bag."

My jaw clenches involuntarily.

The Eagle emblem—the Patriot.

"I'm on it," I nod, already mentally preparing for the task ahead.

As I turn to find Geirolf, my father's voice stops me. "Tor," he says, his tone softer than usual. "Whatever's on your mind... handle it. I need you focused now more than ever, son. ."

I meet his gaze, seeing the mixture of concern and expectation there. "I’m good Dad," I promise, meaning it.

As I stride across the clubhouse, weaving between patches and prospects, my mind races.

The streets, the drugs, Meghan, Tindra—my life is complete chaos right now.

I just need her to come here soon, ‘cause Gods there’s a lot we need to talk about.