Chapter 3 - Angel
The Iron & Blood clubhouse parking lot is packed with bikes, more than usual for this time of night. News travels fast in our world, and I bet everyone's waiting to hear about what went down at Crossroads.
My heart is still racing, partly from the kiss with Ruthless, partly from knowing what I'm about to walk into.
I park Ruthless’s bike next to Dad's and take a deep breath. Music and laughter spill out of the building, along with the familiar smell of cigarettes and whiskey. Home. But tonight, it feels more like walking into a lion's den.
The moment I push through the doors, conversations die down. Dozens of eyes turn to me – members, women, hang-arounds. Butcher and Maverick are at their usual table, both going silent mid-conversation. Even Chloe, Dad's girlfriend, stops whatever she’s doing to stare at me with concern.
"Where is he?" I ask, though I already know.
"Reunion room," Butcher answers, his deep voice carrying across the suddenly quiet room. "Been waiting for you."
Of course he has. I straighten my shoulders and head toward the double doors at the back. The cut on my lip stings, and I can feel a bruise forming on my cheek where the Outlaw hit me. Battle wounds that won't help my case.
Before I can reach the doors, Chloe intercepts me. Her docile eyes scan my face, and she reaches up to touch my chin, turning my head to better see the damage.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine," I say, but my voice catches slightly. Chloe's been good for Dad, brought out a softer side of him we'd all thought died years ago. But even she can't calm the storm I'm about to face.
"He's worried sick," she says quietly. "Got the call about Crossroads twenty minutes ago. Nearly tore out of here on his bike before I convinced him to wait."
"Thanks for that."
She squeezes my arm. "Want me to come with you?"
I shake my head. "This is something I need to handle alone."
The walk to the reunion room feels longer than usual. Every step echoes against the wooden floors, and I can feel the weight of everyone's stares. They're all wondering the same thing – how bad is this going to get?
I take another deep breath and push open the doors. Dad's sitting at the head of the table, exactly where I expected him to be. His fingers are drumming against the wood, and there's an unopened bottle of whiskey in front of him. Bad sign. When he looks up at me, his eyes are dark with a mix of relief and fury.
"Close the door," he says, his voice deceptively calm.
I do as I'm told, then stand there, waiting. The silence stretches between us, heavy with twenty-one years of love and protection and the beginning of something that might break us both.
"What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I was thinking I needed a drink," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Last time I checked, that wasn't a crime."
"At Crossroads?" He stands up, his chair scraping against the floor. "In practically Outlaw territory? After what we did to their weapons stash? After we exposed their trafficking ring?" His voice rises with each question. "Jesus Christ, Angel, you might as well have walked into their clubhouse wearing your cut!"
"I can handle myself."
"Handle yourself?" He barks out a laugh that holds no humor. "Two Outlaws recognized you. If Ruthless hadn't—" He stops abruptly, his eyes narrowing. "Speaking of which, why was it Ruthless who showed up? Why not call me? Or the club?"
My heart skips a beat, but I hold his gaze. "He was the first person I thought of."
"The first person you thought of," he repeats slowly, coming around the table. "After I specifically told him to keep his distance from you."
"That wasn't your call to make."
The words hang in the air between us, dangerous and defiant. Dad's jaw clenches, and I see the muscle twitch there – the same tell he gets before all hell breaks loose.
"I'm your father," he says, his voice dropping low. "And I'm his president. It was absolutely my call to make."
"I'm not a child anymore!" The words explode out of me. "I earned my place in this club. I can ride, I can fight, I can make my own decisions about who I—"
"Don't." He holds up a hand. "Don't finish that sentence."
But I'm done holding back. The taste of Ruthless still lingers on my lips, giving me courage.
"Why not? Because you don't want to hear that I have feelings for him? That he has feelings for me?"
"He's too old for you."
"Like you're too old for Chloe?"
His eyes flash dangerously. "That's different."
"How?" I step closer, my hands balled into fists at my sides. "Because you're the president? Because you get to make the rules but don't have to follow them? Chloe's younger than you, but that doesn't matter because you love her. She makes you happy. Well, guess what, Dad? Ruthless makes me happy."
Dad goes completely still, the kind of stillness that usually precedes an explosion. I've seen him like this before but never directed at me. His next words come out like ice.
"You think you love him?"
"I know I do." The admission feels like jumping off a cliff, terrifying and freeing all at once. "And if you weren't so blinded by your need to control everything, you'd see he's good for me. He respects the club, respects you, and he would die before letting anything happen to me."
"Like tonight?" He challenges. "Where you ended up in a bar fight with Outlaws?"
"Tonight, he came when I called. He had my back. And yes, I got hit," I gesture to my face, "but I also put one of them down myself. The brass knuckles you gave me for my eighteenth birthday? They work great."
Something flickers in his eyes – pride maybe, quickly buried under anger.
"This isn't about your ability to handle yourself, Angel. This is about—"
"Me growing up," I interrupt. "Me making my own choices. Me falling in love with someone you don't approve of."
He runs a hand over his face, and for the first time, I notice how tired he looks.
"He's my brother. I've known him since we were both in the military."
"Then you know he's a good man."
"He's too old for you."
"You already said that," I step closer, softening my voice. "Dad, I'm not asking for your blessing. I'm telling you how it is. I love him. And after tonight..." I trail off, remembering how Ruthless kissed me like I was everything he'd been waiting for.
"After tonight, what?" Dad's voice is sharp again.
"After tonight, I'm done pretending I don't feel what I feel." I lift my chin, meeting his gaze steadily. "You can either accept it, or you can make us all miserable fighting it. But it won't change how I feel."
He stares at me for a long moment, and I see the battle playing out behind his eyes. Finally, he turns away, bracing his hands on the table.
"Get out," he says quietly.
"Dad—"
"Get. Out." Each word is clipped, final. "I need to think."
I hesitate, wanting to say more, to make him understand. But I know my father. Know when he's reached his limit. So, I turn and walk to the door, pausing with my hand on the handle.
"I love you, Dad. That's never going to change. But I'm not a little girl anymore, and you can't protect me from my own heart."
He doesn't respond, doesn't turn around. I slip out of the reunion room, closing the door softly behind me, and find myself face to face with Chloe, who's obviously been waiting.
"That bad?" she asks quietly.
I nod, not trusting my voice. She pulls me into a hug, and I let myself lean into her warmth for a moment.
"He'll come around," she whispers. "Just give him time."
I hope she's right, but the knot in my stomach says otherwise. Because this isn't just about me and Ruthless anymore. This is about power, control, and a father learning to let go.
And Hellfire has never been good at letting go of anything he loves.