Chapter 65

Chapter 65
MAD HATTER

I walked into my office and heard the chatter in the hall. Everyone was excited for the trip to California. Everyone happy to see my Flower. How could she have gotten herself in this fucking mess? She was supposed to be leaving this life. She was supposed to get an education. I wasn’t happy when she left. I didn't want her to go off to be some kind of law person. My daughter being a criminal prosecutor is bad gor business, but she was my little princess. My beautiful daughter, my sweet little flower bud. I had to support her. We have kept an eye on her and after the fire in her dorm, I kept a closer watch. This prosecutor turned professor, what has he gotten my kid mixed up for. Her mother is useless. She doesn't know where she is most of the time so I know she wouldn’t know where Iris is. I looked into the lawyer. He is much older than she is. He has a history of playing with some pretty dangerous characters. Did she know that? Was she drawn to the darkness like her father? 

The office was quiet, but my thoughts weren’t. I leaned back in the leather chair, watching the amber liquid swirl in my glass, its edges catching the muted light like a flicker of the past I couldn’t quiet. Iris. My daughter. My Flower. I had always known she had fire in her veins, something untamed, something raw. She didn’t get that from her mother—no, that fire was all mine. But now, that same fire had her wading into a storm she didn’t fully understand, and it was my job to make sure she didn’t burn herself again—or worse, let someone else extinguish it. Her choice of refuge infuriated me. Ryker Lorcane. This prosecutor with a penchant for chaos. I could not get the image out of my head. A man who wore his darkness like a crown. Did she even realize what kind of man he was? Or, maybe, that was the appeal. Maybe she saw in him something that reflected her own shadows, the ones she thought she could hide from me. But I saw them. I had always seen them. She thought she could leave this world behind—leave me behind—and live in the light. But that’s the thing about shadows. They follow you, no matter how far you run. 

I tightened my grip on the glass, the faint clink of crystal against my rings the only sound in the room. She had my blood in her veins. She couldn’t escape that any more than I could. And yet, this wasn’t just about her anymore. She had chosen to step into a world of power players and predators, and she needed to understand that power wasn’t a gift—it was a weapon. Wield it wrong, and it would consume her. Right now, she was walking blindfolded into a war, and I wasn’t about to let her fight it unarmed. California. That’s where she was. The land of sunshine and second chances. But the sun couldn’t bleach out the truth of who she was—or who she was connected to. This trip wasn’t just about protecting her. It was about showing her who she had to become if she wanted to survive. And if that meant dragging her kicking and screaming into the depths of this world, so be it. Better to have her hate me alive than love me and end up dead. 

I downed the rest of the whiskey, the burn familiar, grounding. My men were readying for the trip, buzzing in the hallways, their excitement palpable. I hated the necessity of it, hated that she’d put herself in this position, but there was no room for sentimentality. Not now. I would show her why I was the Mad Hatter. Why my name alone could freeze men in their tracks. And she would learn to carry that power in her own right. She had done it once before. This time she had no choice. The world she was stepping into wouldn’t allow her to be anything less. As I set the glass down on the desk, I let out a slow breath, forcing the tension from my shoulders. She had fire, yes, but fire needed fuel. It needed to be directed, controlled. She wasn’t ready to wield it yet, but I’d make sure she would be. Because that’s what fathers do, isn’t it? Protect their children? Even if it meant protecting her from herself. Protecting her from this Lorcane character. I can’t wait to hear her tell me she loves him. I know it’s coming. My gaze drifted to the photo on the edge of my desk. Iris, smiling in a way I hadn’t seen in years. A brief flicker of guilt crossed my mind, but I pushed it aside. There was no room for weakness in this life. Not for her. And certainly not for me.  
The room buzzed with the quiet intensity of preparation, a symphony of purpose that I had orchestrated but could not let distract me. My men moved with precision, their loyalty palpable in every decisive step, every loaded rifle, every whispered plan. Yet I stood apart, watching, calculating, the weight of this mission pressing down on me like a storm cloud heavy with rain. My fingers traced patterns along the edge of my coat, a nervous habit I hadn’t shaken, though I’d never admit it aloud. I needed control, strategy, direction—and above all, I needed to get to her. 

Damnit Iris. Her injuries seared through my mind like fire on dry kindling. Whatever mess she had wandered into, it was now my mess too. The thought twisted in my chest, equal parts frustration and ferocity. The world she had entangled herself in wasn’t meant for her, 
wasn’t meant to touch someone like her. The alliances I’d made, the enemies I’d marked, all of it hung in the balance, teetering on the edge of my mind. I could feel the fire in my chest growing stronger, hotter, a relentless force that demanded action, demanded victory. Hesitation wasn’t an option—it never had been. Not in this game. Not in my world. As the hum of that distant engine grew louder, I vowed one thing: I would not lose. Not her, not this. The stakes were too high, the cost too devastating. I would stay ahead, no matter the price, because falling behind wasn’t just failure—it was defeat. And defeat was a currency I refused to trade in. "We're ready to head out when you are sir." Becker said from the doorway, I nodded at him, and we both walked out the door.