Page 29 of Jagger’s Remorse (Iron Veins MC #1)

Jagger sits on the arm of my chair, his hand finding mine. "She'll be all of that. How could she not be, with you as her mother?"

"And you as her father. The man who kills for family but reads Psalms to his dying mother."

"We're all walking contradictions," he says. "Maybe that's what'll make her special. The ability to be both."

"Both?"

"Gentle and violent. Loving and lethal. A princess and a killer."

"Like me."

"Like you," he agrees. "But hopefully with better timing. Kid's been kicking my hand every time I try to sleep."

"That's my girl," I laugh. "Already knowing how to make her presence felt."

Raven approaches with a gift I hadn't noticed before. "One more," she says. "From all of us."

The box is small, wrapped in simple paper.

Inside, on a bed of velvet, lies a pendant—a dragon, wings spread, crafted in white gold with tiny rubies for eyes.

It's delicate but fierce, beautiful but dangerous.

"For when she's older," Raven explains. "Every princess needs her emblem."

"It's perfect," I manage around the tightness in my throat. "All of this is... I didn't expect..."

"What? That we'd celebrate this new addition properly?" Raven snorts. "You're family, Scarlett. Have been since you took a bullet for me. That means the kid is family too. And family takes care of family."

"I'll drink to that," Hammer calls out, raising his beer. "To Valentina Dragon Morales. May she be as beautiful as her mother and as deadly as her father."

"To Valentina," the room echoes.

I raise my sparkling cider, feeling the baby kick as if she knows we're talking about her. "To family. Blood and chosen. May our enemies fear the dragon's daughter as they've learned to fear the dragon herself."

"Fuck yeah," someone shouts, and then we're all drinking and laughing.

Later, after the party winds down and gifts are packed away, I find myself in the chapel with Jagger and Squirrel.

The scene of so many plans, so much bloodshed, now quiet except for our voices.

"News came in during the party," Squirrel says, lighting a cigarette. "FBI task force is officially redirecting their focus to the Nortenos."

"Yuki's obsession finally compromised the investigation?"

"Among other things. Turns out someone leaked that their lead prosecutor has been conducting unauthorized surveillance. Real sloppy work. Shame."

I smile. "Couldn't have happened to a nicer fed."

"This mean Digger's in the clear?"

"Digger's never in the clear," I correct. "But now he's the hunter instead of the hunted. Much better position."

"And us?" Jagger asks. "The club?"

"Safer than we've been in years. Territory secured. Rivals eliminated. FBI looking elsewhere." I stretch, my back protesting. "Eduardo would say this is when we're most vulnerable. When we think we've won."

"You think we haven't?"

"I think winning is temporary. There's always another threat. Another rival. Another ambitious prosecutor." I think of my daughter, growing inside me. "The question is whether we're strong enough to face what comes next."

"We are," Jagger says with certainty. "You made sure of that."

"We all did. Every choice, every death, every alliance led here." I stand, ready to head home. "But you're right. We're stronger now. Strong enough to protect what matters."

"Speaking of which," Squirrel stands too. "Church tomorrow. Need to discuss security for when the baby comes. Hospital protocols, safe houses, the works."

"Already have a list," I tell him. "Including which doctors at the hospital are on our payroll and which nurses know to look the other way."

"Of course you do," he chuckles. "Sometimes I forget you've been planning ten steps ahead since you got here."

"Twenty steps," I correct. "And that was before I had a daughter to protect. Now? I'm planning her whole life."

We leave the chapel, passing through the common room where Mel, Baylee, and Raven are cleaning up baby shower debris.

They wave us off when we offer to help.

"Go rest," Raven orders. "Growing a human's hard work."

Outside, the night air is cool against my skin. Jagger helps me onto his bike—getting more difficult with my belly—and we head home.

Our house, bought with cartel money but made ours.

As we ride, I think about the journey.

Five years ago, I watched my father die.

Today, a baby shower was thrown for me by women who would have killed me before.

"You okay back there?" Jagger calls over the engine.

"Perfect," I call back, meaning it.

Valentina kicks again, strong and insistent.

My hand goes to my belly, protective and proud.

She'll be born into violence, yes.

But also into love.

Into family. Into an empire built on blood but maintained with loyalty.

At home, Jagger helps me off the bike and into the house.

The nursery is nearly finished—painted deep purple instead of pink, because even my old man agreed pink was too cliché for a cartel princess.

"She's going to be extraordinary," Jagger says, wrapping his arms around me from behind, hands resting on my belly.

"She'll have to be. This world doesn't suffer ordinary."

"No, it doesn't." He kisses my neck. "Good thing her mother wrote the book on being extraordinary."

"Her father contributed a few chapters himself."

We stand there in our daughter's nursery, surrounded by weapons and baby supplies, motorcycles and stuffed animals. The contradictions that make us who we are.

"I love you," I tell him. "Both of you."

"Forever?"

"And then some."

Valentina kicks again, as if agreeing. My little dragon, already fierce in the womb. She'll need to be. The world we're giving her demands strength.

But tonight, she's just our daughter. Growing safe inside me while her family—blood and chosen—prepares for her arrival.

Let our enemies come—rivals, feds, anyone stupid enough to threaten what's mine.

They'll learn what Jagger learned that night in my father's office.

Dragons don't just breathe fire.

Sometimes, they build empires from the ashes.