Happy wasn't the type to dwell on things, but when something got under his skin, it had a way of keeping him up for days. That's exactly what had happened back when his sister was kidnapped, and he'd been locked up in prison, completely powerless to do a damn thing.

This time was different. He wasn't locked up—he was free. He could take action.

But the thought of having not one, but two sons—one of whom had spent his entire life in captivity—made rage and frustration churn in his gut like a storm. Every instinct screamed at him to hunt down that conniving bitch and put a bullet in her skull.

Still, experience had taught him not to act on impulse. Underestimating an enemy had already cost him five years of his life. That was a mistake he wouldn't make again.

So, he waited. Restless and wired, he stayed awake until dawn.

Even though Kozik had met him at the clubhouse the night before, Happy hadn't been able to bring himself to explain everything. He'd waited for the morning, opting to send Clay a quick message instead. Happy knew his president well enough to trust the meeting would take priority, even if the message had arrived while Clay was asleep.

As soon as the first rays of sunlight broke through, Happy threw on a pair of jeans and a plain black shirt, leaving his garage overalls behind. He wasn't going to work today.

Blaze, his dog, perked up as soon as Happy started moving, leaping off the foot of the bed.

"Food first, boy," Happy muttered, scratching the dog behind the ears. "Then we'll head outside."

In the communal kitchen, he scarfed down a quick bowl of cereal. Normally, he'd go for something heartier, but his nerves killed any appetite for a big breakfast.

The place was quiet; it seemed like the others had spent the night at home.

As he ate, his mind wandered to his house—specifically, the charred remains of his furniture. Foss had done that, trying to protect him. The kid had guts; Happy had to give him that. He was also glad Foss hadn't let the dog burn with the rest of the place—because if he had, Happy wouldn't have let him off so easy, son or not.

It said something about the kid's character that he'd risked his own life to save the dog.

Happy cut a slice of sausage from the fridge and tossed it to Blaze, who eagerly devoured it. The pup was fitting in well here—definitely not shy around people.

Once breakfast was done, Happy grabbed Blaze's leash from where it hung by the door, clipped it to the collar, and stepped outside.

Blaze bolted straight for the sidewalk, nails clicking against the pavement.

"Easy, buddy," Happy said with a shake of his head, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

The smile didn't last long. A heavier thought settled in its place: this young dog had probably experienced more freedom than his own flesh and blood.

Silently, he cursed Naomi. She should've come to him so much sooner.

When Happy returned from the walk, the clubhouse had started to come alive.

Kozik crouched down next to Blaze, roughhousing with the pup while glancing up at Happy. "That meeting—your idea?"

"Yeah. Naomi had a lot to say."

"Is she in trouble?"

Happy nodded slowly. "You'll hear it soon enough."

Curiosity flashed in Kozik's light blue eyes, but he didn't press for details. Instead, they headed together to the Chapel.

The room was centered around a large wooden table with the club's logo carved into its surface. One by one, the others filed in and took their seats. Once everyone was settled, Clay gave Happy a nod to start.

Happy cleared his throat. Throwing his newly discovered family drama on the table wasn't exactly comfortable. "Yesterday," he began, "a hitman came after me."

That got their attention. Every eye locked on him, startled. It wasn't surprising; things had been relatively calm for years, aside from that incident with his sister's ex.

"Not a very good hitman—hitwoman, actually—as you can see."

A few chuckles rippled around the table, but the tension was thick. They knew this wasn't just a casual update.

"Her name's Naomi. I knew her a long time ago," Happy admitted grudgingly. "We had a thing—more than a thing. She told me we have a son. Foss. You've all met him."

He shot a pointed look at Tig, who had been convinced the kid was just some random stray that had stumbled into their lives.

"Foss figured out what his mom was planning and tried to warn me—not very effectively, but still. A direct warning wouldn't have gotten through to me anyway."

"He's the one who set your house on fire?" Jax asked.

Happy nodded. "Long story short: Naomi's attempt failed yesterday. Afterward, she admitted she's been blackmailed for over twenty years. They've got her other son—my son. If she doesn't do their dirty work, they threaten to maim or kill him."

Grim expressions spread across the table. Kozik muttered a curse under his breath.

"So, we're getting your kid back," Clay said firmly. "That's obvious."

Though Happy had expected nothing less from his brothers, relief still washed over him. They'd gone to hell and back for his family before. Asking for help now, after everything, felt like a heavy request.

"How do we find him?" someone finally asked.

"Hana." Happy's voice was low but steady, conviction burning behind his words. "She's the one who took him from Naomi. She lives in Bakersfield, in a heavily guarded mansion. Alec won't be there, but I'll make her talk."

Jax frowned, leaning forward with his arms on the table. "Not to be a buzzkill, but how do you know Naomi's telling the truth? She tried to kill you. She could be feeding you lies."

Happy's glare cut across the room like a blade. "No one feeds me lies. I was the only one who didn't trust those two new guys from the start, remember?"

Jay raised his hands in mock surrender, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Fair point. But we still need to tread carefully. If she's setting you up—"

"She's not," Happy snapped, shutting down the thought before it could linger.

"What do you need?" Clay interjected, steering the conversation back on track.

"At the very least, we need an infrared camera to see how many people are on the property—and where they're located," he said, turning to Half-Sack. "Can you arrange that?"

Half-Sack blinked himself out of his thoughts and nodded, though he seemed a little distracted. Happy understood why. The kid himself had been held captive, though his memories of it had been wiped. It had changed him. Happy barely recognized the quiet, withdrawn young man. Before Happy landed in jail, Half-Sack had been a cheerful, clumsy guy. Whatever happened to him on that cursed island had broken something inside him—something irreparable. And that made Happy worry about his own son. What kind of boy would they end up rescuing? Someone so crushed by life that there was no spark of vitality left?

"Naomi says there might also be explosives in the garden, which would make a raid even more difficult. Is there any way to detect them?"

"There should be. I'll call Ebb," Half-Sack replied. Ebb was one of their newest recruits from another chapter. While their own chapter didn't have a true tech expert, Ebb had plenty of experience.

"Good. Let us know what Ebb says. And get one of those thermal devices too. Once we have it, Juice and Kozik will scout the house to check the security. Can we get a floor plan?"

"Naomi used to live there," Happy said. "She can draw one for us. I'll also make sure we can use my aunt's house as a base—it's nearby."

The last time he'd seen his aunt was at his mother's funeral, but he knew she'd open her door without hesitation.

"I think it's better if I stay far away," Kozik interjected. "It's been over twenty years since Hana saw me, but it's not a risk we should take. Let Juice and Half-Sack handle it. Without kuttes."

The two men exchanged a glance. Happy knew his brother-in-law's relationship with Half-Sack was strained because of what had happened to his wife. That Freddy didn't remember any of it didn't make things easier. Still, neither of them objected. Over time, Juice had learned to rise above his emotions.

"Fine. First, get the equipment. Let me know what the options are, Sack."

The youngest member nodded silently.

Clay slammed his gavel on the table, signaling the end of the meeting.

Afterward, Happy kept himself busy in the garage, but the mechanic work didn't do much to distract him. About an hour later, Sack reported back. He'd arranged to borrow a drone with integrated ground radar from Everline Infrastructure, a civil engineering firm based in Charming, and would pick it up immediately. Ebb had also suggested alternatives to infrared cameras, which couldn't see through walls. Through contacts at Everline, they managed to rent an ultra-wideband radar for a few hundred bucks—well within budget.

Not long after, Naomi arrived at the clubhouse with her son and his friend. Foss threw him a nervous glance, betraying his unease. Happy understood; he wasn't feeling too comfortable either. He still wasn't used to the idea of being a father and preferred to delay any meaningful conversation. What the hell was he even supposed to say to the kid? The last time they'd spoken, he'd accused him of being a spy. And the kid had burned down his house. As if the fact that he was his son didn't already complicate things enough.

Naomi, however, walked straight up to him—another person he wasn't sure how to handle. He could still feel her hands on his dick—and also that subtle hesitation, that hitch in her breath, which had instinctively told him something was off.

"We need a floor plan of that house," he said instead of a greeting. "We've arranged equipment to locate everyone inside—and something to scan for explosives."

The vampire kid let out an appreciative whistle. "You're not messing around."

"I'm in," Foss said firmly. "Whatever plan you've got, I'm in."

"No."

Foss raised an eyebrow. "This is about my brother. I'm in on your plan, or Nash and I will come up with a plan of our own."

The dark-haired boy beside him rubbed his smooth chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. We could smoke them out. Force them to come coughing outside. Disoriented and all. Then we'd just knock them out."

Laughter rippled through the room. Tig, who'd overheard the conversation, slung an arm around Nash's shoulders. "I swear, I've got a secret son as well. This brain looks suspiciously like mine."

"My dad's a jerk, so you're welcome to replace him."

Honestly, Nash's unconventional thinking could be useful. It wouldn't surprise Happy if Nash had been the one to suggest setting the house on fire.

His own son, by contrast, seemed more calculated. More cautious.

Then again, that reckless plan had worked exactly as intended. If I hadn't spotted them there with Blaze, I might've let my guard down.

"I'll draw a floor plan," Naomi said, steering the conversation back on track. "What's the plan after that?"

Happy glanced around the clubhouse. There were always girls hanging around, even during the day. Since one of his brothers had hooked up with someone working for the enemy, he'd grown more cautious. It wouldn't surprise him if Hana had planted spies here too.

"Not here," he said. "Follow me. I'll pretend I'm showing you the garage."

The three of them followed him outside. He led them to the workshop, out of sight.

"You never know if Hana has someone watching us," he explained. "Tonight, we'll hit her mansion. We've got equipment to locate people on the property and check for explosives. Once we have that info, the whole club will go in. We'll grab Hana, and I'll make her talk. I've never tortured someone without getting what I wanted."

Foss stared at him. "Torture?"

"You wanna watch?"

The boy paled at the thought, and Happy snorted. Maybe he's not my kid after all.

"Maybe," Foss said unexpectedly. "It sounds... educational."

The idea of teaching his son how to inflict pain for information left Happy conflicted. It wasn't exactly the father-son bonding most people had in mind. Then again, those skills had saved lives more than once. He didn't do it for fun, but he didn't shy away from it either. It was like working on a car—you kept doing it until it worked. With people, it wasn't so different. Sometimes you just had to twist the right parts—or take them off entirely.

"If you really want to learn," he said, "you're welcome to watch."

"No!" Naomi protested, shoving Foss on the shoulder. "There are other ways to bond with your father."

"Someone's blackmailed my mom her entire life. Kidnapped and tortured my twin brother. And if the internet's to be believed, someone also took and did who knows what to my long-lost aunt. It's painfully clear this whole world is screwed up, and if these skills will help me protect the people I care about, I'll learn them."

A strange warmth filled Happy's chest. Pride. Definitely my kid.

The connection between them was starting to grow, and Happy gave him an approving nod. "Can you handle a gun?"

"My mom taught me."

"Good. Then you're in tonight. You're just as involved in this as I am."

He exchanged a glance with Naomi. She didn't protest, though her lips pressed into a thin line. He understood. She already had one son in danger and had spent half her life trying to protect him. But Foss was twenty-five. He could make his own decisions.

And he already had—against his mother's wishes.

Happy smirked at the thought of her locking him in the basement. She couldn't keep doing that. And the grim set of Foss' jaw made it clear he wouldn't let her, either.