Her Possessive Bikers

44. Epilogue Kyler （Three Years Later）

The pink tricycle gleams in the morning sun as I crouch beside Brinley, my hands hovering near her tiny shoulders. Her dirty blonde curls bounce as she wiggles on the seat, her hazel eyes focused with an intensity that reminds me of Tres during club meetings.

"Ready, princess?"

"I got this, Daddy." She grips the handlebars, her little chin jutting out. "Just like your bike."

"Almost." I adjust her feet on the pedals. "Remember what we practiced?"

A prospect walks by, nodding respectfully. Brinley waves, momentarily distracted. "Hi Uncle Fang!"

"Eyes forward, sweetheart." The words barely leave my mouth before she's pedaling, wobbly but determined.

"Look! I'm doing it!" Her laughter echoes across the compound. Several brothers pause their work to watch, grinning as our little queen shows off her new skills.

"That's my baby girl!" Jacoby's voice booms from the garage. He wipes his hands on a rag, that signature goofy grin spreading across his face. "Future road warrior right there."

Brinley's face scrunches in concentration. "Papa, I'm not a baby no more!" she shouts to Jacoby, "but watch this!" She attempts a turn, nearly tipping over before I steady her.

"Careful there, daredevil." I can't help but smile as she huffs, so much like Indy when she's frustrated.

"I need to practice more," she declares, her tone eerily matching Tres's when he's laying down club law. "The prospects need to see I can ride too."

"Oh yeah?" I raise an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

"'Cause I'm the princess of this club, duh." She starts pedaling again, this time with more confidence. "Mama says so."

The heavy tread of boots against pavement draws my attention as Tres approaches, his presence commanding even in casual clothes. Brinley's face lights up like Christmas morning.

"Pop Pop!" She throws her arms up, nearly toppling off the tricycle. "This damn bike won't turn right!"

Tres's eyebrows shoot up as he scoops her into his arms. "Princess, where did you learn that word?"

"From Papa when he was fixing his motorcycle." She points an accusing finger toward the garage where Jacoby suddenly becomes very interested in his wrench.

"Ladies don't use that language, sweetheart." But Tres's stern expression melts when she pats his cheek with her tiny hand. The mighty MC president, brought to his knees by a three-year-old in pigtails.

"Sorry, Pop Pop. I love you." She bats those long eyelashes. "Can you help me ride better?"

Before Tres can answer, Indy waddles around the corner of the clubhouse, one hand supporting her lower back, the other resting on her swollen belly. Even eight months pregnant, she's stunning in her cut-off shorts and one of my old band tees.

"There's my girl," she calls out. "Showing the boys how it's done?"

"Mama!" Brinley squirms in Tres's arms. "Baby Brien's making you walk funny."

I can't help but smile at the name. We all agreed our son should carry on O'Brien's legacy. The old man would've loved that.

Watching my family, warmth spreads through my chest. Never thought I'd have this - a wife, a daughter, another baby on the way. Hell, even the two dipshits I have to share them with. Back when Brick first found me, I was just some scrawny kid picking pockets to survive. Now I'm watching my little girl conquer her tricycle, her other two dad’s looking on with awe, while her mama glows with our son.

"Daddy!" Brinley calls out. "Watch me go fast!"

My heart skips at that word - Daddy. We let her decide what she wanted to call us, seeing as things are a little unconventional with out relationship. Her first word was Dada when I was feeding her peas in her high chair. So I got to keep that title.

"You're doing great, sweetheart," I call back, catching Indy's eye. She winks at me, that same sparkle that first drew me in still there after all this time.

Tres bolts, grabbing Brinley from her tricycle and caging her in his arms, his protective stance covering both her and Indy as a bike roars past. Some things never change - he's still our watchful guardian. Jacoby saunters over, grease-stained and grinning, completing our odd little circle.

"Look at us," he chuckles, sliding an arm around Indy's waist. "Who'd have thought, huh?"

"Not me," I admit, running a hand through my hair. "Thought I'd be dead in a ditch by twenty-five."

"Good thing Brick had other plans," Tres rumbles, bouncing Brinley as she plays with his beard.

I nod, throat tight. O'Brien saw something in me worth saving. Now I've got everything I never dared dream of - two brothers who have my back for the long haul, a partner that I love, a daughter who thinks I hung the moon, and a son on the way. Not too bad for some rough around the edges biker boys if I do say so myself.

The End