Emma.
I pull out my phone, dialing her number with bloody fingers. It rings four times before she answers.
"Dad?" Her voice is cautious, guarded. "It's kind of late for a social call."
"I need you to come to Pine Haven," I say without preamble. "Now."
"What? No. I have finals in two weeks. Whatever MC drama you've got going on—"
"Emma." I rarely use my "president" voice with her, but I do now. "This isn't a request. It's not safe for you to be alone right now."
Silence on the line. Then, "What did you do?"
The accusation stings, but I don't have time for hurt feelings. "Protected innocent people from the bad guy. They didn't appreciate it."
"And now they're after me?" Her voice rises. "Great. Thanks for that."
"I didn't start this fight," I tell her, fighting to keep my voice level. "But I will finish it. Until then, I need you safe. Here, where I can protect you."
"I don't want to be in Pine Haven. I don't want to be anywhere near the club."
"I know." I run a hand over my face, leaving a smear of someone else's blood on my forehead. "But if you stay at university, you put everyone around you in danger too. Your roommate. Your friends. Anyone close to you."
That argument lands. Emma has always cared more about others than herself—a trait she got from her mother, certainly not from me.
"Fine," she says after a long pause. "But I'm staying at a hotel, not the clubhouse."
"Not an option. The clubhouse is the most secure location. You'll have your own space, away from club business."
Another silence, longer this time. "How long?"
"A few days. A week at most. Until we resolve this situation."
"Dad—"
"Please, Emma." I rarely beg. Never, in fact. But for my daughter, I would do anything. "Please just do this one thing."
She sighs, and I can picture her expression. The same stubborn set to her jaw she's had since childhood. "I'll leave in the morning. Should get there by early afternoon."
"Thank you." Relief floods through me. "I'm sorry about your finals. I'll talk to your professors if needed."
"I can handle my own professors," she snaps. Then, softer: "Just... be careful, okay?"
"Always am." The standard response, though we both know it's not entirely true.
After hanging up, I find Blade standing nearby, having caught the end of the conversation.
"Emma coming?" he asks.
I nod. "Tomorrow. She's not happy about it."
"She's a lot like you," Blade observes with a hint of a smile.
"Unfortunately, I know." I sigh, surveying the courtyard with its dead bodies and bullet-riddled vehicles. "Get this cleaned up before she arrives. And prepare the guest room in the east wing—as far from club business as possible."
"On it, boss." Blade hesitates. "What about their threats? Charles coming for us?"
"Let him come." I check my weapon, reloading. "We'll be ready."
