Chapter 5 - Engines and Echoes
""Who's the kid, Jax?"" A gravelly voice boomed from behind. Big Jim, the VP of the club, swaggered over, a heavy leather jacket swinging around his massive frame. Jim slapped a heavy hand down on the adjacent stool, his eyes scanning the polaroid and the folded letter on the counter with immediate suspicion. The easygoing atmosphere of the rally atmosphere evaporated instantly; the other club members at nearby booths stopped talking, sensing the sudden shift in tribal dynamics.
Jax instinctively shifted his body, placing himself physically between Big Jim and the boy. It was a protective reflex so primal and instant that it surprised even him. ""Mind your own business, Jim,"" Jax growled, his voice dropping an octave into a dangerous warning. But Jim wasn't looking at Jax; his eyes were fixed on the faded photograph, recognizing the familiar facial structure and the unmistakable vintage of the snapshot.
""That looks a lot like you back in the day, brother,"" Jim said slowly, his tone turning cautious. ""And club rules are clear about ghosts from the past popping up during a rally. Is this a complication we need to worry about?"" The tension in the room spiked, a wall of hostile loyalty pressing in from the surrounding bikers who viewed the club as family above all else.
May you like
The boy shrank back just an inch, clutching his worn jacket tighter around his small frame, though his hazel eyes remained fixed on Jax with unwavering courage. Martha stepped forward, slamming a heavy ceramic coffee pot onto the counter with a loud crack to break the mounting aggression. ""Back off, Jim. This ain't club business, this is human business,"" she snapped, glaring fiercely at the VP.
Jax looked down at the boy, then at the letter containing Sarah's address. He realized running away was no longer an option; the highway had finally led him back to where he started. Slowly, Jax stood up from the stool, towering over the counter, and reached out to grab his helmet.
