"It counts for everything."
Two hours later, a nurse appears looking extremely uncomfortable.
"Ms. Cruz? You have... several visitors. They're causing a bit of a scene in the waiting room."
My stomach drops. "Who?"
"Motorcycle clubs? Both of them? Security is getting nervous."
Zane and I exchange looks.
"Fuck," he says succinctly.
"Eloquent as always," I mutter, already trying to get out of bed and immediately regretting it. Two days post-delivery, my body is filing multiple complaints.
"Stay," Zane says. "I'll handle it."
"No." I grab his arm. "We handle this together."
"Lena—"
"Together, Zane. That's how this works."
He studies me for a long moment, then nods. Helps me into my robe, supports me as we walk slowly to the door. Every step is a reminder that I recently pushed a seven-pound human out of my body, but I'm not letting both motorcycle clubs converge on my hospital room without being present for it.
The hallway is a scene.
On one side: Iron Talons. Tommy with his new VP patch, Joker, Blade, Colt. All leather cuts and controlled aggression.
On the other side: Coyote Fangs. Miguel looking tense, Danny, and two other members I don't recognize immediately.
Both sides watching each other. Hospital security watching both sides nervously. Nurses trying to figure out if they should call actual police.
It's a powder keg waiting for a match.
"This is a hospital," I say loudly, and every head turns. "My son is two days old. You want to kill each other? Do it somewhere else. Not here. Not now. Not in front of him."
Tommy has the grace to look slightly abashed. "We just wanted to see the baby. Congratulate our President."
"Same," Miguel says from the other side. "Came to see my nephew."
"Fine," I say, exhaustion making me sharp. "But not all at once. Hospital rules—two visitors at a time. And you don't glare at each other in my hallway like territorial dogs. This is neutral ground. Act like it."
One of the Coyote Fangs members I don't know steps forward. "Miguel. The President wants you back. Now."
Miguel's jaw tightens. "I'm meeting my nephew."
"The President didn't authorize this visit."
"I don't need authorization to meet my family."
"You do when your family is the enemy," the man says, and his tone makes it clear this isn't a suggestion.
Tommy moves forward from the Iron Talons side. "Problem here?"
"Club business," the Coyote Fangs member snaps. "Not yours."
"It's our President's kid. Makes it our business."
