Respect gets earned in public.
"You killed three men."
"Yes."
"Without hesitation."
"Yes."
"And you'd do it again. For her."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "I'd do worse."
Something shifts in his expression.
Not quite respect—not yet—but acknowledgment.
Recognition of what I am.
"You're cocky for a boy your age."
"I'm effective for a man of any age."
The silence stretches.
The whole room is watching now—prospects, patched members, everyone.
This is a pissing match, and we both know it.
Father protecting daughter. Soldier refusing to back down.
Then Runes laughs.
It's not a warm sound, exactly, but it's not hostile either.
Something in between. A predator recognizing another predator.
"You've got balls, I'll give you that." He releases my hand. "All right, Brotherhood boy. You can stay. But you follow my rules on my territory. You don't touch my daughter without her permission. And if you fuck up—if anything happens to her because you weren't good enough—I'll gut you myself and feed you to the gators. We clear?"
"Crystal."
"Good." He turns away, then pauses. "She’ll be in the basement. We're doing renovations down there—turning it into guest quarters for when other clubs visit. It's not finished, but it's private. You'll be down there too. Across the hall."
Across the hall.
Close enough to protect her.
Close enough to hear her.
Close enough to drive myself absolutely mad.
"Understood."
Runes walks away to greet his daughter properly, pulling her into a hug that softens every hard line in his body.
I watch them together—father and daughter, MC president and fashion designer, two people who clearly love each other even if their lives have taken them in different directions.
He holds her for a long moment, murmuring something in her ear that makes her nod, her face pressed against his chest.
