Chapter 3 - The Shadow of the Club
Diesel strode into the diner like an apex predator, flanked by two patched-in enforcers whose tattoos gleamed under the flickering fluorescent lights. The ambient noise of the room instantly died down; patrons slid into their booths, averting their eyes. Diesel’s cold, calculating gaze swept across the diner before locking onto Jax standing frozen at the counter next to a pale, scruffy-looking kid holding an old piece of paper.
“Having a family reunion, brother?” Diesel sneered, a cruel smirk playing on his lips as he sauntered over. His heavy boots thumped rhythmically against the floor. He glanced down at the faded photo on the counter, his eyes narrowing with sudden interest. “What’s this? Souvenirs from the old days? Thought you buried all your loose ends before you patched into the Iron Skulls, Jax.”
Jax’s jaw tightened so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. He instinctively shifted his body slightly to shield Leo from Diesel’s predatory view. “It’s nothing, Diesel. Just a lost kid looking for directions. I’ll handle it outside.”
“A lost kid,” Diesel chuckled darkly, leaning in close, smelling of whiskey and exhaust fumes. “We don’t need distractions right now, Jax. The federal task force has been sniffing around state lines, and the last thing this club needs is some stray brat tying us to your past life. Get rid of him, or I will.”
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Leo clutched his jacket tighter, stepping back slightly, terror flickering in his big hazel eyes. Martha slammed a coffee mug down on the counter with a loud crack, startling the enforcers. “Leave the boy alone, Diesel! This is a family diner, not your clubhouse dungeon!” Diesel shot Martha a lethal glare, but before he could retaliate, Jax grabbed Leo by the shoulder with unexpected gentleness.
“Outside. Now,” Jax ordered in a low, dangerous whisper, leading the boy toward the kitchen exit before Diesel could close the trap.
