Chapter 4 - Ruthless
The text message glows on my phone screen like a death sentence: 'Clubhouse. Now.' Short, direct – pure Hellfire. I know what's coming. I have been expecting it since Angel left my garage.
"You don't have to come," I tell Crow as he mounts his bike and I mount another of mine.
He just snorts, kicking his engine to life.
"Brother, with Outlaws gunning for us, no one rides alone. Besides," he grins, but it doesn't reach his eyes, "someone needs to make sure Hellfire doesn't kill you."
The ride to the clubhouse is tense. Every shadow could be an Outlaw waiting to even the score, every turn could lead to an ambush. But my mind isn't on the potential threats. It's on Angel – the taste of her, the way she felt pressed against me, the fire in her eyes when she told me she needed to handle her father alone.
The parking lot is still full when we arrive. News travels fast in our world, and everyone wants to see how this plays out.
"Ready?" Crow asks as we kill our engines.
"No," I admit, running a hand through my hair. "But when has that ever mattered?"
The moment we walk in, the atmosphere hits me like a physical force. Conversations stop mid-sentence, and all eyes turn our way. Butcher and Maverick give me a slight nod – a warrior's acknowledgment before the battle.
Chloe appears from the direction of the reunion room, eyebrows raised with concern. When she sees me, she makes a beeline in my direction.
"He's in a mood," she warns quietly. "Angel left fifteen minutes ago. It... didn't go well."
My chest tightens. "She okay?"
"Physically? Yes. Emotionally?" Chloe shakes her head. "Just... be careful in there, Ruthless. He's not just your president right now. He's a father watching his little girl grow up, and he's not handling it well."
I nod, appreciating her candor. Chloe's been good for the club, good for Hellfire. But even she can't smooth this over.
"Reunion room, right?" I ask, though I already know.
She nods, touching my arm briefly. "Good luck."
I start toward the doors, but Crow catches my cut.
"Remember," he says low enough that only I can hear, "you're Iron & Blood. Whatever happens in there, you're family."
The walk to the reunion room feels like walking to an execution. Every step brings me closer to a conversation that could end my life in the club – or just end my life, period. But with Angel's kiss still burning on my lips, I can't bring myself to regret any of it.
I push open the doors, and there he sits – my president, my brother, the man who's had my back through war and peace. Now, he might just be my executioner.
"Close the door," Hellfire says without looking up.
I do, then stand there, waiting.
Finally, he looks up, and his eyes are cold as winter.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't put a bullet in you right now."
"Because you know me," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Twenty years of brotherhood. Afghanistan. The Club. Everything we've been through. You know who I am."
"Yeah," he stands slowly, "I know exactly who you are. A man twice my daughter's age who was warned – explicitly warned – to stay away from her."
"I tried." The words come out rougher than intended. "Fuck, Cole, I tried. I kept my distance, avoided being alone with her, told myself all the reasons it was wrong."
"Not hard enough," he growls, moving around the table. "Because tonight, I get a call that my daughter was in a fucking bar fight with Outlaws, and who shows up to save her? You. Then she comes in here, face bruised, telling me she loves you."
The knowledge that Angel said those words to her father hits me like a punch to the gut. Makes what I'm about to say both easier and harder.
"I love her too."
He moves so fast that I barely see it coming. His fist connects with my jaw, sending me stumbling back a step. I straighten but don't retaliate. This isn't about fighting back – it's about standing my ground.
"You don't get to say that," he snarls. "She's my daughter. My little girl."
"She's not little anymore," I wipe blood from my split lip. "She's a grown woman who can make her own choices. And tonight, when she was in trouble, she chose to call me."
"Because I sheltered her too much," he paces now, like a caged animal. "Because I tried to protect her from this life, and instead, I pushed her right into it. Right into your arms."
"No," I shake my head. "She called me because she trusts me. Because she knows I'd die before letting anything happen to her. Just like you would."
He stops pacing, studying me with eyes that have seen too much, survived too much.
"You were my brother first."
"I still am." I take a step forward. "Nothing changes that. But I can't change how I feel about her any more than you can change how you feel about Chloe."
The comparison makes him flinch. "That's different."
"Why? Because you're the president? Because Chloe wasn't someone's daughter?" I press on, knowing I'm pushing my luck. "Or because you know what it's like to find someone who makes everything else fade away? Someone worth any risk, any consequence?"
Hellfire's jaw clenches, and for a moment, I think he might hit me again. Instead, he turns away, bracing his hands on the table.
"She could have died tonight," he says quietly, dangerously. "Those Outlaws—"
"But she didn't. She fought back. Put one of them down herself with those brass knuckles you gave her." I can't keep the pride out of my voice. "She's not just your little girl anymore. She's Iron & Blood, through and through."
"And what happens when this goes south?" He turns back to me. "When you two crash and burn? What happens to the club then?"
"That's not—"
"Don't tell me that's not going to happen," he cuts me off. "You're forty-three, Grant. She's twenty-one. You really think this ends well?"
"I think," I choose my words carefully, "that age means shit when it comes to what's real. Look at you and Chloe. Everyone said that wouldn't work either. A journalist getting involved with an MC president? The whole club thought she was a fed or working on some exposé. But you knew what you felt was worth fighting for."
Something shifts in his expression – a crack in the armor. "Chloe wasn't my brother's daughter."
"No, but she was everything the club stands against. A journalist, an outsider. Someone who could have destroyed everything we built." I press on. "Now she's family. Because you trusted your gut, and we all saw what everyone else eventually saw – that you make each other better."
"If you hurt her," he finally says, his voice low and deadly, "if you break her heart—"
"You'll kill me," I nod. "Get in line. Because I'd kill myself first."
He studies me for a long moment, and I see the battle playing out behind his eyes – president versus father, brother versus protector.
"Angel left," he says suddenly, running a hand over his face. "No idea where she went. With the Outlaws out there..." He doesn't finish the sentence, doesn't need to.
My heart rate spikes. "I'll find her."
"You better." His voice hardens. "And Ruthless? Get the word out. I want everyone in this room in an hour. We need to deal with this Outlaw situation before it escalates."
"All members?"
"Everyone," he confirms. "Even prospects. This involves the whole club now."
I turn to leave, but his voice stops me at the door.
"Ruthless?"
"Yeah?"
"When you find her... tell her to come home. Her room's still here if she needs it." He pauses, then adds, "And this conversation? This isn't me giving you my blessing. This is me acknowledging I can't stop either of you without destroying everything else in the process."
"I'll take it," I say quietly.
I step out into the bar, where dozens of eyes immediately turn to me, checking for blood or broken bones.
Crow pushes off the wall he's been leaning against. "Still breathing?"
"Barely," I mutter, already pulling out my phone. "Help me spread the word – Reunion room in sixty. Everyone needs to be here." I start typing a message to Angel, my fingers moving fast. "I need to find her first."
"Want company?"
I shake my head, already heading for the door. "Stay here. Help get everyone together. I'll bring her back."
Because that's what I do now. I protect her, I find her, I bring her home. Even if home looks different than it used to. Even if everything's changed.
Because some things – some people – are worth any risk.
And Angel? She's worth everything.