Layla’s POV
Things were starting to feel… okay. Not good. Not safe. But okay. I was getting used to the rhythm of the club. The loud “Chow” dinners, the rumble of bikes coming and going, the way the men nodded at me now—not like I was a stranger, but like I was part of the furniture. My bar, The Last Call, was even making a little money. Chloe and I had fun there. It was a piece of normal.
The only storm cloud was Jax. He was cold. Not to the club. He was the boss, solid as a rock for them. But when it came to my dad? A wall of ice. He’d watch him from across the yard with this look. Not angry. Just… calculating. Like he was trying to solve a math problem that didn’t add up.
My dad, though? He was doing great. He was taking his new job seriously. He’d sit for hours with Grizz and the b
