"Proposing alliance. Says if we help him take over Iron Talons, he'll split your territory with us." Fernando takes a long drink. "Our President told him to fuck off. We're not interested in starting a war over internal Iron Talons politics. Especially when the current President's baby mama is our lieutenant's sister."
Miguel shifts uncomfortably at the phrasing but doesn't argue.
"Ghost won't take no for an answer," I say carefully.
"Probably not. But he's not our problem. He's yours." Fernando looks at me directly. "But I'm telling you as courtesy. And as insurance. If Ghost does make a move, we're staying out of it. The truce holds."
"Appreciate that."
"Don't thank me yet. Our President could change his mind tomorrow. Truces are fragile."
"I'm aware."
Abuela calls us to the table before the conversation can get heavier. Dinner at Abuela María's house operates under specific rules—no club talk at the table, no disrespect, no refusing food. We sit, we eat, we pretend we're normal families having normal dinners.
Santiago fusses halfway through the meal. Lena takes him to another room to nurse, leaving me with Miguel, Fernando, Danny, and Izzy's pointed commentary about motorcycle club politics that she definitely shouldn't know about but somehow does.
"Your woman's a healer," Fernando says, watching Lena leave. "Heard she treats everyone. Both clubs."
"Everyone who needs it," I correct. "She doesn't take sides."
"Useful. Neutral ground is hard to find." He pauses. "Our President respects that. It's part of why he's open to maintaining peace."
Miguel speaks up. "Lena saved a Coyote Fangs member last year. Knife wound. Probably would've died without her. Word got around. She's got protection from our side."
I didn't know that. File it under "things Lena does without telling me because she's simultaneously the most incredible and most infuriating woman alive."
"She's getting her clinic legal now," I say. "Operating as legitimate medical practice. Dr. Reeves is providing oversight."
Fernando nods approvingly. "Smart. Keep her out of legal trouble while maintaining the neutrality. Good move."
The rest of dinner passes in relative peace. Abuela tells stories about Miguel and Lena as kids—Miguel getting into fights defending his sister, Lena trying to save every injured animal she found, both of them grieving their parents and trying to survive. It's the most I've heard about Lena's childhood, and I file every detail away like treasure.
When Lena returns with a sleeping Santiago, the sight of her in Abuela's house, surrounded by family, holding our son—it hits different. This is what I fought for. This impossible peace, this fragile family, this chance at something better.
After dinner, Miguel and I step outside. The Phoenix night is cooling off, stars visible despite the light pollution.
"Fernando's being straight with you," Miguel says without preamble. "Our President is considering formalization. Actual treaty instead of just informal truce."
"What changed his mind?"
"Economics. The war was expensive. Retaliation, medical costs, funeral costs, lost business opportunities. Peace is profitable. Plus..." He glances back at the house. "Santiago helps. Hard to maintain hatred when there's a baby bridging both sides."
"Your position secure?"
"For now. As long as the peace holds and I don't fuck up, I'm good." He lights a cigarette, offers me one. I quit years ago but tonight I take it. "Ghost approaching us was actually helpful. Showed our President that internal Iron Talons drama isn't our problem. That getting involved would just restart the war."
"So, I owe Ghost one for being predictably stupid."
"Basically." Miguel smokes in silence for a moment. "You taking care of them? Really taking care of them?"
"Every day."
"Good. Because if you don't, club politics won't save you. I'll come for you myself."
"Understood."
"And Lena going back to work—you supporting that?"
