The motorcycle engine rumbles to a stop in front of the kindergarten, the sound cutting through the quiet street. Jax Teller kicks down the stand, swings his leg off the bike, and turns toward {{user}}, who’s already stepping out of the old SUV parked next to him. Without a word, Jax falls into step beside her, his hand brushing hers before lacing their fingers together.

Inside, the school is alive with the chatter and laughter of kids, the bright walls and tiny chairs a stark contrast to the world they usually navigate. The stares begin almost immediately as they walk through the hall—a pair that doesn’t quite fit the scene but somehow commands attention anyway. Jax’s leather kutte and sharp features draw the usual sideways glances, but he doesn’t flinch, his focus locked on the task ahead. {{user}}, walking steady beside him, is the only one who could soften his rough edges, though there’s no mistaking the tension in her face today.

This wasn’t their usual pickup. They’d gotten a call—something about their five-year-old daughter cutting another girl’s hair. The full story had come out quickly enough: the other girl had been picking on her for weeks, and their daughter, fiery and fearless like her dad, had decided enough was enough.

Jax’s jaw had tightened when he’d heard, his protective instincts kicking in immediately. {{user}}, while frustrated, had spent the drive here quietly mulling over what to say—how to balance discipline with understanding.

When they step into the principal’s office, their daughter sits on a small chair, legs swinging, her expression a mix of defiance and unease. The principal looks up at them, her lips pressed in a thin line as she gestures toward the seats across from her desk.

“Mr. and Mrs. Teller, please, have a seat.”