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Faye turns back to me, and her eyes, like London’s, lock onto mine with startling clarity. “You know she’s scared, right? Not of you. But of what it means to need someone. To lean on someone. It’s just not in her nature, but she wants it nonetheless. With you.”

I nod but remain quiet because I feel she has more to say.

“My daughter needs someone who won’t buckle.

Someone who will be her peace when the world is on fire and her strength when hers runs out.

” She places her hand on top of mine. “There will come a day when I won’t be here anymore.

And I don’t just mean the breathing part.

This disease I have, it’s a thief, Everest, stealing pieces of me every day, little by little.

And one day, it will take the rest. I won’t remember her name or her face.

But my baby will remember the pain. She’ll carry it for the rest of her life. ”

My throat tightens—the weight of her words anchoring in my chest like concrete.

“She’s gonna need someone who doesn’t just love her, but someone who stays.” She pauses. “Promise me you’ll be that man. That you will be her strength when everything else falls apart.”

I squeeze her hand. “I promise to be all that and more. Whatever she needs, whatever it takes, I’ll be that man.”

A tear slides down her cheek, and she nods.

“Then I can let go of some of this worry.

I can see that you will burn the world down for her.

" There’s another silence before Faye says, “She loves you. I may forget sometimes, but I'll never forget the light in her eyes when she says your name. That kind of light doesn’t lie.”

My jaw clenches as I fight back a wave of emotions tightening in my chest.

Faye leans back in her chair, a tired smile lingering on her lips. We sit in silence for a few more moments before I finally rise to leave.

She reaches for my hand again. “Don’t let her push you away when she’s scared. My girl’s heart is bigger than she will ever admit.”

I lean down and kiss the top of her head. “I won’t.”

I leave with more weight on my chest than before stepping foot in this place, making a vow to a woman who won’t remember my name one day. But she will never forget what love looks like when she sees me and London together.

Since we’re already out this way, I decide to swing in at Pink Paradise and see Tony. I lift a hand signaling to Nova, and he pulls in behind me.

We park out front. The place is quiet. There are no cars because the doors haven’t opened yet, and we cut the engines.

“What’s up?” Nova asks.

“Thought we’d check in with Tony, see if he’s got anything on Velasco.” I climb off my bike.

Nova scans our surroundings and then looks toward the entrance of the club. “Feels wrong.”

He ain’t the only one sensing something is off.

Before going in, we head around back, checking shit out. It smells like piss and beer soured by the heat. The dumpster’s lid is half open, and crushed beer and whiskey bottles are scattered everywhere. I reach for the back door’s handle. It’s unlocked. I look at Nova. That’s our first red flag.

We take out our weapons, keeping them at our sides, walk inside, and make our way to the front of the building.

The air is thick, and it’s too damn quiet.

We move slowly as broken glass crunches beneath our boots.

The place looks like a tornado ripped through it, broken bottles, chairs overturned, and tables flipped.

“The place is torn the fuck up,” Nova mutters, looking around.

He strolls over, flicking switches on the wall. “Lights are dead.”

We move across the room and enter the hallway.

My gut twists. “You smell that?”

“Yeah,” Nova whispers. “Blood.”

A low, pained grunt coming from the back breaks the silence.

We raise our guns and move toward the sound. We pass the girls’ dressing room, trashed just like the rest of the place.

We reach the office, the door half off its hinges. Inside, we find Tony slumped in his chair behind the desk, his shirt soaked in blood and one arm hanging limp at his side. His face is wrecked, one eye swollen shut, his lip split down the middle, and blood dripping from his nose.

“Fuck,” I mutter, holstering my weapon. “Tony.”

His head jerks up, barely.

Nova moves in fast, crouching beside the old man. “What the hell happened?”

Tony coughs, wincing. “Velasco. He sent two of his goons in here. Tore the place up, then did the same to me.”

“You know the name Velasco?” I ask, hoping he’ll have more intel than we do.

Tony shakes his head. “First I’ve heard of it, but I sure as shit know it now, and I’m fuckin’ pissed.” His fingers dig into the chair’s armrest, his knuckles turning white as he tries to stand but fails. “This got anything to do with London or Amara’s disappearance?”

I shake my head. “No. This is aimed at the Kings.”

Nova pulls out his phone and steps away. “Callin’ Prez.” He speaks low and fast, giving a rundown of the situation, then comes back. “Prez says, get him to the clubhouse.”

Tony waves him off. “Fuck that. I’m not leaving my place.”

“You just got your ass handed to you, old man,” I growl. “You need patchin’ up.”

“I’ll heal,” he says, spitting blood to the side. “But what I won’t do is run.”

Nova doesn’t argue. He pulls his phone out. “I’m callin’ Teagan.”

A stretch of time passes with nothing but Tony’s labored breaths filling the space.

When Teagan arrives, she looks around but doesn’t ask questions.

She mutters, “Jesus,” under her breath. Moving fast, she gets to work.

“Stay still,” she says, opening a gauze pack.

Tony doesn’t even flinch as she cleans the gash on his temple.

Once Teagan is done and Tony is patched up, she places a bottle of pills on his desk.

“Nothing appears to be broken, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t fractures.

You should have X-rays done to rule it out. ”

Tony groans, adjusting himself in the chair. “I’m all right. Appreciate the house call, though.”

Teagan reaches into her bag. “This should knock the edge off for a few hours. If you want more, you’ll have to get it yourself.” She then turns to Nova and me. “I’ll see myself out.”

“Give us a minute, and we’ll follow you back to town. Not risking your safety after doin’ us a favor,” Nova says.

She sighs but doesn’t argue.

I look at Tony. “You sure you wanna stay? They could come back.”

Tony leans over and opens the bottom drawer of his desk.

From inside, he pulls out a monster of a revolver, matte black steel, and a long barrel with six chambers.

“Dirty Harry style,” he mutters. “They caught me off-guard, but if those motherfuckers come back, I’ll be the one putting them in the ground. ”

“You’re not alone on this, old man. The club has your back,” I say.

Tony locks eyes with me. “I know. But let the record show, if this Velasco motherfucker wants to start a war with me, he’s got one.” He rests the revolver on his desk, keeping his hand on the grip.