Chapter 2 - The Red Marker
The rumble outside vibrated straight through Jax’s boots. He caught Clara’s eye, and without a word, the seasoned waitress reached under the counter and slid the deadbolt switch for the front entrance. The diner's chatter died down into an uneasy silence as the biker rally regulars noticed the pair of heavy black pickup trucks idling curbside, their high beams piercing the dusty glass.
Jax grabbed the folded paper from the boy's trembling hand. He flipped it open. The handwriting was unmistakably Sarah’s—slanting, sharp, written in red marker on the back of a torn prescription slip.
Jax. If Leo is handing you this, I am already dead. Silas found where we were hiding in Helena. He tore down the house looking for your old club ledger. Leo swallowed the key before they caught me. He doesn't know what's inside him, Jax. Run with our son. They are right behind him.
Jax’s throat felt dry as bone. Our son. Eight years. For eight years he had believed Sarah had walked away because she despised the blood on his cuts, that she had wanted a clean life without him. He had spent nearly a decade drinking away the guilt of his past, never knowing she had carried his child into hiding to protect them both from Silas—the president of the Iron Skulls, Jax's bitterest enemy.
"Hey, kid," Jax rasped, his voice rough as gravel. "What’s your name?"
"Leo," the boy said. A cold sweat coated his forehead, and he swayed slightly on his scuffed sneakers.
May you like
Clara leaned over the counter, eyes wide with horror as she spotted the red-tinted headlights reflecting off the pavement outside. "Jax... those trucks aren't locals. Two men just got out with crowbars."
Before Jax could pull Leo behind him, a heavy steel boot kicked the diner's front double doors off their hinges with an explosive crack.
