"To start the rest of our lives."
She holds out her arms for Santiago, and I pass him over carefully. We sit together on the narrow hospital bed, our son between us, and watch the sun rise over a world that's exactly the same and completely different.
"I love you," I tell her, because it needs to be said. "Both of you. Whatever that means, whatever it costs."
"I know." She leans her head against my shoulder. "We love you too. God help us, we love you too."
Santiago makes a sound that might be agreement or gas, but we choose to believe it's approval. Our son, already making his opinion known, already taking up space in the world.
Already perfect, despite coming from chaos.
Already loved, despite everything that tried to stop us.
Already here, ready or not.
Welcome to the world, Santiago Cruz-Quinn.
It's a beautiful disaster, just like your parents.
Chapter forty-five
The Coup
Zane
Dawn breaks over Phoenix like a wound splitting open—all blood-orange and bruised purple. I'm holding my son against my bare chest, counting his breaths because it's the only thing keeping me from losing my shit completely.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Santiago's tiny ribcage expands and contracts with perfect rhythm. Seven pounds, two ounces of pure perfection sleeping on my chest while his mother finally—finally—rests after seventeen hours of labor that aged me a decade.
My phone buzzes against the hospital tray table. I already know it's bad news. Good news doesn't text at 6 AM.
Ghost:Church meeting. Today. Mandatory.
The ice that floods my veins has nothing to do with the hospital's aggressive AC. This is it. The challenge I knew was coming. Ghost making his move while I'm vulnerable, distracted, standing in a hospital room with my hours-old son instead of at the clubhouse defending my position.
Strategic timing. I'd respect it if I didn't want to kill him for it.
Santiago stirs against me, makes a small sound that's not quite a cry. I adjust my hold—still getting used to how fucking fragile he is, how every movement feels like I might break him. His dark hair is thick like mine, but his nose is pure Lena. Cruz nose. Enemy nose on my son's perfect face.
Worth it. Worth everything.
My phone buzzes again.
Tommy:On my way. Don't react yet.
Too late. I'm already reacting. Already running scenarios, calculating odds, preparing for the fight that will determine whether I'm still President of Iron Talons MC by noon or just another ex-officer with a newborn and a target on his back.
Lena's asleep in the bed, exhausted beyond anything I've ever seen. She gave me this—gave me Santiago, gave me everything I never knew I needed and definitely don't deserve. And now Ihave to leave her, leave him, go fight for the right to keep being the man who chose them over easy.
The door opens quietly. Tommy slips in, takes one look at me holding Santiago, and his expression does something complicated.
"Hell of a morning," he says, keeping his voice low.
"Ghost?"
"Making his move. Called an emergency Church meeting without going through you first. That's a direct challenge to your authority as President."
