BLOOD, CHROME, AND GHOSTS OF THE PAST

The safehouse was an abandoned mining outpost buried deep in the labyrinth of red rock canyons, invisible from both aerial surveillance and highway patrols. As the van rolled inside the rusted corrugated hangar, five armed men stepped from the shadows, their shotguns lowered only when they recognized Bones behind the wheel.

A towering man with a braided grey beard and cold blue eyes stepped forward. It was Marcus, the elder president of the Iron Rogues charter.

"What brought the storm to our doorstep, Gabriel?" Marcus asked, his gaze drifting immediately to the little girl Gabriel was carrying on his hip.

Maya kept her arms locked around Gabriel's neck, hiding her face against his collar. The hardened bikers around the hangar shifted uncomfortably; children did not belong in their world, let alone during an active syndicate breach.

"She’s my daughter," Gabriel stated plainly, setting Maya down on an upturned wooden crate.

Silence fell over the cavernous space. Marcus stared at Gabriel, the gravity of the confession settling between them like lead.

"Sarah's child?" Marcus asked softly.

"Sarah's," Gabriel affirmed. "The Syndicate took Sarah three days ago. Miller is running the hunt. They tracked Maya to use her as bait, but they miscalculated. They brought her straight to me."

Marcus looked at the little girl, then down at the floor. "Gabriel... Miller didn't take Sarah just to pull you out of hiding. Three days ago, Miller took control of the northern shipping docks. He’s liquidating everyone who has a claim to the old Vance family territory."

Gabriel froze. "What territory? Sarah’s father was a mechanic."

"Her father was Arthur Vance," Marcus said grimly. "The founder of the Syndicate before Miller betrayed him. Sarah walked away from all of it, but on paper... she owned the entire western corridor. Miller can't legally sell the cartel's land without Sarah’s signature—or her legal heir's."