Chapter 2 - Dust and Thunder
The sudden roar of approaching motorcycles shattered the quiet sanctuary of the wedding venue. Mark stepped forward, his face pale, instinctively pulling Clara behind his tailored frame. ""Who the hell are you?"" Mark demanded, his voice trembling despite his bravado. ""Get off this property before I call the sheriff.""
Hawk didn't flinch. He didn't even look at Mark. His gaze remained locked on the winding dirt road leading up to the barn. ""Call whoever you want, kid,"" Hawk muttered, tucking the brass key into Clara’s cold, trembling palm. ""By the time the law shows up, these gravel stones will be soaked in blood.""
The three bikes rounded the bend, kicking up clouds of dry gray dust. They weren't dressed for a wedding. Black helmets, cut-off denim vests bearing the crimson emblem of the Iron Jackals, and heavy shotguns strapped across their handlebars. The lead rider, a wiry man with hollow cheeks and a predator's smile, cut his engine just twenty yards away.
Clara clutched her wedding dress, lifting the heavy lace hem from the dirt. She recognized the emblem. It was the exact insignia carved into the wooden chest Marcus kept locked beneath his bed before his sudden death.
The lead rider stepped off his machine, dragging a rusted steel pipe across the gravel. ""Hawk,"" the man called out, his voice scraping like sandpaper. ""Fifteen years running, and you deliver the prize right to our doorstep. Give us the girl's key, and maybe we let the groom keep his teeth.""
Clara glanced down at the key burning against her skin. ""Hawk, what do they want?"" she whispered.
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Hawk drew a heavy steel wrench from his saddlebag, his posture shifting into a lethal crouch. ""Run to the cellar beneath the barn, Clara. Now!""
As Clara turned, the crack of a gunshot splintered the barn door right beside her ear.
