Chapter Five
L egend
“Breathe, baby,” I murmur to Braelynn, feeling her tension as we step into the clubhouse. “You've got this.”
She nods, squaring her shoulders like the warrior she is.
That's my girl.
A few heads turn as we make our entrance, and the noise from chatter comes to a screeching halt. I know my brothers have a million questions about Brae and the way I took off out of here last night. Once they learn who she is, they’ll accept her with open arms.
Scanning the room, I spot Viper, Sparrow, and Knox in what looks like a deep conversation. It’s a reminder of how much shit has changed since I’ve been away. There’ll be time to get caught up on another day.
Today is about family, and I want to make sure that from here on out that is something Brae and my boy have.
Feeling eyes on him, Viper turns. He says something to Sparrow and Knox, then breaks away from the group. As he makes his way over, his eyes flick between Brae and Ryder with a knowing smirk on his face. “Get your shit squared away?” He wasn’t here last night when Brae showed up, but I’m not surprised he’s heard the gossip.
My lips twitch “You could say that. Viper, meet Braelynn and our son, Ryder.”
Viper's eyebrows shoot up, but he recovers quickly. “Son? Fuck me. I warned you this would happen one day.” His eyes shift over to Brae. “No offense, darlin’,” he says before his eyes narrow and come back to me. “Got any more surprises you want to fill me in on?”
I feel Braelynn stiffen beside me. She doesn’t have to worry. This is just who the Prez is. He’s a gruff asshole, but he’ll never turn his back on family. Trying to reassure her everything’s fine, I place my hand on her lower back. “No more surprises, Prez,” I state firmly. “Turning over a new leaf.”
Viper nods, understanding in his eyes. He turns to Braelynn, his expression softening. “Welcome to the family, darlin'. Any woman who can tame this fucker is alright in my book.”
Braelynn relaxes slightly, offering a small smile. “Thank you. It's nice to meet you.”
“Come on,” I say, guiding her further into the room. “I want to introduce you to everyone else.”
As we make our rounds, Braelynn holds her own, charming my brothers and their old ladies alike.
Kierra, Viper's old lady, immediately takes my girl under her wing, cooing over Ryder and filling her in on all the gossip. The tension in Braelynn’s shoulders gradually eases as she starts to realize there’s no judgment here.
“Brother,” Sparrow says as he comes to stand next to me, his eyes zeroing in on his wife and twins before coming to me. “When you meeting with your PO?”
The question brings me crashing back to reality. “Tomorrow,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral.
Knox grunts, overhearing our conversation as he joins us. “Fucking waste of time, if you ask me. You did your time.”
I shrug, not wanting to get into it today. “It is what it is.” And that’s the truth whether any of us like it or not. It fucking sucks that I lost so much over the last year, but there’s nothing I can do to change that now. I’m moving forward.
Thorn clasps a hand on my shoulder. “I'll send Oakland and the girls over to keep Braelynn company while you're gone. Mila’s missed you, so be prepared.” I grin. I know she has. She was the first person to notice when I walked in yesterday. To say the little shit went berserk is an understatement.
“Appreciate you not telling her the truth about where I was.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but it is.
Fuck. One day I’ll have to admit to my own son that I was locked up, and I’m not sure how I’ll do it.
No need in borrowing that trouble right now.
Braelynn glances over, and I can see the concern in her eyes. I give her a reassuring smile, silently promising we'll talk about it later.
“SOUPS ON!” G bellows across the common room, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Don’t make her say it twice,” Knox says, making his way over to his old lady and planting a kiss on her lips. I watch as the former club girl throws her head back and laughs out loud, pure joy written all over her face. Anyone with eyes could see that Knox had an obsession with G when she showed up years ago. It’s good to see our enforcer happy.
As we gather around the table, the conversation shifts, and soon the clubhouse is filled with stories of Christmases past, both the good and the disastrous. Braelynn relaxes, laughing at Kierra's tale of the time Viper nearly burned down their house trying to deep-fry a turkey.
The night wears on and I find myself holding Ryder, his tiny hand wrapped around my finger as he sleeps. The sight of him in his little cut, nestled against my chest, fills me with a peace I've never felt before.
“He looks good on you,” Viper says, coming to stand beside me.
I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from my son’s face. “Never thought I’d want this.”
“That’s how it goes,” Viper admits, his voice serious, “then you have them, and the whole fucking world feels different. Things you never worried about before stay at the forefront of your mind, and you start seeing danger fucking everywhere. You think nothing can scare you, but then you look at them,” he nods to Ry, “and you start to see all the threats out there in the world in a different way.” Viper stands up straighter. “The club will always come first, but now you've got more than just yourself to think about.”
I meet his gaze, understanding the weight of his words. “I’ll fucking die before I let anything touch them.”
He claps me on the shoulder, but his eyes go to his wife and son stretched out on the sofa across the room. “Yeah.”
I nod, feeling the truth of his words settle in my chest. This is more than just me now.
As the night winds down, I find Braelynn deep in conversation with Sierra and Oakland. She looks up as I approach, her eyes shining with happiness.
“Ready to head out, baby?” I ask, shifting Ryder in my arms.
She nods, saying her goodbyes.
Outside, I help Braelynn into the SUV, then carefully secure Ryder in his car seat.
“So,” I say, sliding into the driver's seat, “what did you think?”
“They're... not what I expected. But in a good way.”
I reach over, taking her hand in mine. “Thanks for doing this tonight.”
“I’m glad you pushed me to come.” I lift her hand to my lips and place a kiss on her knuckles.
I can't help but feel like everything's finally falling into place.
Tomorrow, I'll deal with my P.O. and whatever bullshit comes with it.
I look around at the dingy office, the fluorescent lights flickering, and the cheap plastic chair that’s digging into my back is a constant reminder of where I am and why I'm here.
I've been out of prison for less than a week, and already I remember why I hate the fucking cops. This place reeks of bureaucracy and judgment.
Glancing at my watch, I check the time for the tenth time in as many minutes.
My parole officer is late.
Whether it's a power play or just poor time management, I'm not sure, but either way, it's pissing me off.
When the door to the inner office finally swings open, a man in his mid-forties steps out.
Officer Turner.
I can tell by the look on his face, turned down to the file in his hand, that he’s someone who's seen too much shit and stopped caring a long time ago. His eyes come up and land on me, and I see a flicker of something, but it’s gone before I can put my finger on it.
“Dominic Fischer?” he calls, his voice way too fucking authoritative for my liking.
I stand, squaring my shoulders. “It's Legend,” I correct, looking him square in the eye.
His lip curls slightly. “I'll stick with what's on your file, Mr. Fischer. Come in.”
My fists clench, but I force myself to relax. There’s something about this guy that rubs me the wrong way. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking hate him on principle, but it’s something else.
Shaking it off for now, I follow him into the office and take in the cramped space. The walls are lined with filing cabinets, and his desk is buried under stacks of paperwork.
It's clear this guy's overworked, but I get the feeling he thrives on it.
“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk as he settles into his own.
I sit, keeping my posture relaxed. There’s no way I’m letting this glorified paper pusher think he can intimidate me. Fuck that. I’ve been through this song and dance before with assholes just like him.
Officer Turner opens my file and starts flipping through it. “So, Mr. Fischer, how's freedom treating you?”
“Can't complain.”
He looks up, his eyes narrowing. “Really? Most guys I see can't wait to tell me how unfair the system is, how they were wrongly convicted.”
I shrug. “I did the crime, I did the time. Now I'm looking to move forward.”
Turner leans back in his chair, studying me. “Cut the shit. You're a known member of the Saints MC.” He waves his hand down at my file. “Your record shows a history of violence, drug charges, and now assault.”
The accusation in his tone rubs me the wrong way, but I keep my cool. “People change, Officer Turner. I've got responsibilities now that I didn't have before.”
He scoffs. “Right. I heard about your little surprise. A baby and a girlfriend who showed up out of the blue. Convenient timing, don't you think?”
The hair on my neck stands on end. How the fuck does this guy know a goddamn thing about Brae and my son? “Not sure how you know about my family, but they’re off fucking limits. You got it.”
Turner’s face turns an alarming shade of red. “You threatening me, boy ?”
“Take it how you want.” I hold his stare. I’m not backing down.
“It’s my job to know everything about the criminals under my watch. And your club poses a problem.”
I scoff. Criminals? The men under his watch have served their time and are free men. “My club isn’t up for discussion either.”
He leans forward, his eyes boring into mine. “See, that's where you're wrong, Mr. Fischer. You bikers think you're above the law, that your little brotherhood trumps everything else. But let me make something clear—I'll be watching you. One slip-up and you'll be back behind bars so fast your head will spin.”
I meet his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “Now who’s making threats, Officer Turner?”
He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “Just a friendly warning. Now, let's go over the terms of your parole.”
For the next hour, Turner grills me on every aspect of my life: where I'm living, who I'm associating with, my plans for employment. He seems particularly interested in the club, asking pointed questions about our activities and my role within it. He’s wasting his time. I’m not telling him shit.
“And you expect me to believe that the Saints are just a group of motorcycle enthusiasts?” he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
I shrug. “Believe what you want. I'm here to comply with my parole, not change your mind about the club.”
Turner's eyes narrow. “I'll be keeping a very close eye on you, Mr. Fischer. Random drug tests, unannounced home visits—the works. And I'll be talking to your associates, including this new girlfriend of yours.”
The thought of Brae alone with this guy sets me on edge, something this asshole doesn’t miss.
He raises an eyebrow. “Touched a nerve, did I? She's part of your life now, which makes her part of my job. Deal with it.”
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. This guy's trying to get a rise out of me, and I’m not giving him the satisfaction.
“Are we done here?” I ask, my patience wearing thin.
Turner checks his watch. “For now. Unlucky for you, this is just the beginning. I'll be seeing you again soon.”
When I stand to leave, he adds, “Oh, and one more thing. I'd strongly advise you to reconsider your living arrangements. A warehouse apartment isn't exactly a suitable environment for a baby, is it?”
My shoulders stiffen. This guy knows way too fucking much. I turn back to face him, but his expression is neutral, giving nothing away.
“I'll keep that in mind,” I say, keeping my voice calm.
As I walk out of the office, my mind is racing. What the fuck just happened in there?
Turner's attitude isn't surprising. There are plenty of cops with a chip on their shoulder when it comes to bikers. Especially us. But there's something about this guy that’s different. And the way he talked about Brae and Ryder, his knowledge of our living situation, and his insistent probing about the club feels personal.
I shake my head. Fuck. I'm just being paranoid.
Turner's just another asshole with a badge on a power trip who thinks he knows everything about me based on a file.
Right?