Chapter 2 - The Door Between Past and Present
The heavy glass door of the diner burst open, letting in a gust of desert wind, diesel fumes, and the harsh clatter of boots. Two men in sleeveless leather vests stepped inside. They wore the colors of the Black Vipers—the exact crew Jax had sworn off nearly a decade ago. Their eyes scanned the half-empty room before locking onto the back of Jax’s jacket.
Jax didn't flinch, but his left hand instinctively dropped to the hem of his vest, brushing the concealed grip of his folding blade.
""Put that away, kid,"" Jax muttered beneath his breath, his voice like gravel grinding together. ""Now. Put it back in your coat.""
Toby froze, terrified by the sudden malice radiating from the doorway, but he didn't run. Instead, he shoved the folded paper deep into his jacket pocket and took a small step closer to Jax, his tiny hand briefly brushing against the heavy leather of Jax's sleeve. The touch was light, but to Jax, it felt like an electric shock.
""Well, look who decided to show his ugly mug in Nevada,"" the taller biker drawled, his voice thick with gravel and stale tobacco. His road name was Creed, a ruthless enforcer who held grudges like gold coins. He strolled forward, his spurs chiming faintly with every step. ""Thought you were rotting in Oregon, Jax. Word on the blacktop was you retired.""
Martha immediately planted both hands on the counter. ""Creed, take your noise out back. You know the rules in here. No club business by the pie case.""
Creed sneered, flicking a glance at the waitress, but his eyes dropped to Toby. He paused, looking between the boy’s pale, trembling face and Jax’s tight, defensive stance. A slow, cruel smile cracked Creed's sunburned face.
""Who's the stray, brother? Don't tell me you took in an apprentice.""
Jax stood up. All six-foot-two of him uncoiled from the chrome stool, casting a long shadow across the diner counter. He shifted his stance, perfectly shielding Toby from view. ""Walk away, Creed. I'm having a quiet cup of coffee. Let's keep it that way.""
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Creed laughed, a harsh, dry bark that made Toby flinch. ""Quiet coffee? You left with ten grand of our buy-in money ten years ago, Jax. Quiet is the last thing you're ever gonna get."" Creed stepped forward, tapping his knuckles on the counter, inches from where the photo still lay facedown. ""Now move aside. Let me see what you’re guarding.""
Jax grabbed Creed's wrist with the speed of a striking rattler, twisting it down until the larger man gasped. In that split second, Toby’s pocket tore, and the folded yellow letter spilled out, sliding across the slick floor directly under Creed's boot.
