Chapter 2: Echoes in the Dark
The clubhouse was a fortress, but tonight, it felt like a cage. Mia was sleeping in the back office, curled up on a leather sofa with the bear clutched to her chest. Tank paced the main floor, the photograph pinned to the wall like a crime scene evidence.
The blood stain. It wasn't old. It was dark, almost fresh.
"Tank, calm down," Jax, the club president, said, pouring a glass of whiskey he knew Tank wouldn't drink. "We don't know who sent her. We don't know who she was with."
"She was with Elena," Tank snapped, his voice a growl. "I spent seven years believing she was buried in a plot outside of Charlotte. I spent seven years blaming myself for not being there that night. And now she's out there somewhere, and she’s bleeding."
Tank replayed the conversation with Mia. He hadn't pressed her for details yet; he was terrified that if he pushed, she would shatter. But he needed the truth. He needed to know why Elena had vanished.
He remembered the night of the accident. There had been no body. The car had gone off the cliff, and the police found a wrecked vehicle, but they told him the currents in the river were too strong, that the body was lost. He had accepted it. He had been so drunk on grief he hadn't questioned the lack of a funeral.
Betrayal.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. Someone in the club—or someone close to it—had lied to him. Someone had told him the body was lost to make sure he stopped looking.
He walked to the back office and opened the door quietly. Mia stirred. He sat on the floor beside her.
"Mia," he whispered. "Can you tell me where you last saw your mama?"
Mia opened her eyes. They were wide, haunted. "The man with the metal teeth. He hurt her. She told me to run. She told me to keep the bear safe until I found the Wolf."
Tank’s blood went cold. Silas.
Silas was an old rival, a man who had left the Iron Skulls years ago to form his own syndicate, a man who had always coveted the control Tank held. If Silas had Elena, this wasn't just a kidnapping. It was a trap.
"Did he follow you, Mia?"
She nodded slowly. "He said he’d find us. He said he wanted to see the Wolf cry."
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Tank stood up, his face hardening into a mask of stone. He didn't cry. He didn't break. He simply burned. He walked out to the main room, where fifty of his brothers were waiting, their hands on their weapons, their eyes on him.
"Saddle up," Tank said, his voice deadly calm. "We're going to war."
