“Chapter 5
The air outside was cold, and the stars were sharp pinpricks in the black Pennsylvania sky. Jax stood by his bike, breathing in the scent of pine and diesel. He felt raw, like he’d been skinned.
He heard the crunch of gravel behind him. It was Silas.
“”You okay, kid?””
“”I’m alive,”” Jax said.
“”Barely. You know King’s going to sell that house within the week. He’ll get his money back and then some.””
“”Let him have it,”” Jax said. “”It was never going to be a home. Not after what happened.””
“”What are you going to do now?””
Jax looked at his hands. They were still stained with oil. “”I’m going to get my daughter. And then I’m going to keep riding until the air smells different.””
“”Scranton?””
“”Maybe. Maybe further.””
Silas reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, held together by a rubber band. He pressed it into Jax’s hand. “”Take it. It’s my ‘retirement’ fund. I won’t need it. I’m staying here until they bury me under the shop.””
“”I can’t take this, Silas.””
“”Take it. Consider it a loan. Or a payment for all those years you didn’t rat. Go find that girl of yours. Give her a life that doesn’t involve waiting for a phone call from a lawyer.””
Jax took the money. He didn’t say thank you—it wasn’t the kind of thing you said in their world. He just nodded, a short, sharp movement.
He kicked the Sportster over. The bike vibrated between his legs, a familiar, steady heartbeat. He rode out of the lot, the sound of the engine echoing off the brick walls of the clubhouse.
He stopped by the rented house one last time. He didn’t go inside. He just stood in the driveway, looking at the dark windows. He thought about Sarah. He wondered if she was already in Scranton. He wondered if she’d ever be able to look at him without seeing the man he’d become to protect her.
He realized then that the “”bed she made”” wasn’t just about the affair. It was about the life they’d both built together—a life of secrets, of waiting, of compromises that slowly ate away at their souls. She’d looked for an escape in Danny, and he’d looked for it in a stolen house. Both of them had failed.
He drove to Sarah’s mother’s house. It was nearly 2:00 AM. He knocked on the door, and the old woman opened it, her eyes wide with fear.
“”Jax? What are you doing here?””
“”I’m here for Maya,”” he said.
“”Sarah called. She said… she said things were bad.””
“”They’re over,”” Jax said. “”Where is she?””
Maya appeared in the hallway, rubbing her eyes. She was wearing her pajamas, the ones with the little anchors on them. “”Daddy? Are we going on the big ship now?””
Jax felt a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow. He knelt down and opened his arms. She ran into them, her small body warm and solid against his chest.
“”Not a ship, baby,”” he whispered into her hair. “”Just a long ride. You want to go for a ride?””
“”Now?””
“”Now.””
He carried her out to the bike. He’d modified the seat months ago, adding a small backrest and footpegs for her. He strapped her in, making sure she was secure. He put her small helmet on her head and clicked the strap.
“”Hold on tight, okay?””
“”Okay, Daddy.””
As he pulled out of the driveway, he saw a pair of headlights in the distance. A bike. He didn’t need to see the rider to know it was Danny. The Iron Reapers must have let him go, or he’d escaped. Either way, he was coming for his final revenge.
Jax didn’t speed up. He didn’t reach for his gun. He just kept a steady pace, heading toward the highway.
The other bike gained on him, the roar of the loud pipes shaking the air. Danny pulled up alongside him, his face a mask of rage. He reached into his jacket, his hand fumbling for something.
Jax looked at him. Truly looked at him. He saw a boy who was terrified, a boy who had lost everything and had nothing left but his hate.
Jax didn’t flinch. He just steered the Sportster toward the center of the road, forcing Danny toward the soft shoulder. Danny swerved, his tires catching the loose gravel. He screamed, a high, panicked sound, as his bike fish-tailed.
Danny hit a drainage ditch at sixty miles an hour. The bike flipped, a tangle of chrome and sparks, and disappeared into the darkness of the woods.
Jax didn’t stop. He didn’t even look back. He felt Maya’s small hands grip his waist tighter.
“”What was that noise, Daddy?””
“”Just the wind, baby,”” Jax said. “”Just the wind.””
Chapter 6
The sun came up over the Poconos, a pale, watery yellow that bled into the gray mist of the mountains. Jax pulled into a small truck stop off I-81. He was tired, his muscles aching from the vibration of the bike, but he felt a strange, lightheaded clarity.
He unstrapped Maya and set her on the ground. She was stiff and sleepy, but she didn’t complain. She’d always been a biker’s daughter—tough, quiet, and used to the road.
They went into the diner. It was a classic American dive, with cracked vinyl booths and the smell of burnt coffee and maple syrup. A waitress with a tired smile brought them menus.
“”You two look like you’ve been through it,”” she said.
“”Just a long night,”” Jax said.
He ordered pancakes for Maya and black coffee for himself. He watched her eat, her small fork moving with methodical precision. She looked so much like Sarah it hurt to look at her, but she had his eyes—dark, steady, and observant.
“”Are we going to the new house now?”” Maya asked, her mouth full of pancake.
Jax took a sip of the coffee. It was hot and bitter. “”No, baby. We’re not going there.””
“”Why not? You said it had a yard. You said I could have a dog.””
“”The yard wasn’t right,”” Jax said. “”We’re going to find a better one. Maybe somewhere with trees. And a lake.””
“”Will Mommy be there?””
Jax looked out the window. A semi-truck was pulling out of the lot, its air brakes hissing. He thought about Sarah. He knew she wouldn’t follow him. Not really. She was part of the world he’d just left behind, a world of grease and shadows. She needed the stability of the familiar, even if the familiar was killing her. He’d leave Silas’s money for her at a drop point in Scranton. It would be enough for her to start over, away from the club.
“”Mommy needs some time,”” Jax said. “”But we’ll see her again. I promise.””
It was a lie, and he knew she knew it. But it was a necessary one.
They finished their meal and went back out to the bike. The air was warming up, the mist burning off to reveal a clear, blue sky. Jax felt the weight of the last four years finally start to settle, not as a burden, but as a memory.
He realized that he’d spent his whole life trying to build walls—the walls of the club, the walls of the prison cell, the walls of the secret house. He’d thought they were protection. But they were just different kinds of cages.
He got on the bike and pulled Maya close.
“”Ready?””
“”Ready.””
He kicked the engine over. It sounded different now. The gravelly skip in the timing was gone—he’d fixed it before he left the shop, a final, subconscious act of a man who couldn’t leave a job unfinished. The engine hummed, a smooth, powerful rhythm that promised nothing but the road ahead.
He headed north. He didn’t have a destination, and he didn’t have a plan. He just had a full tank of gas and a daughter who believed he was a hero.
As he hit the highway, he looked in his rearview mirror. The mountains of Pennsylvania were receding, becoming a jagged silhouette against the horizon. The road was open, a gray ribbon stretching out into the unknown.
He thought about the house on Miller’s Lane. He thought about the blue shutters and the pink backpack. He thought about Sarah and the smell of chain lube on her neck.
He turned the throttle, and the bike surged forward. The wind whipped past his ears, drowning out the ghosts. He wasn’t a Sergeant at Arms anymore. He wasn’t an ex-con. He was just a father, riding into the light, leaving the bed they’d made behind them in the dark.
The highway stretched on, indifferent and infinite, and for the first time in his life, Jax Miller didn’t care where it ended.”
