Chapter 7
The sudden shower of sharp gravel caught Victor completely off guard. He threw his hands up to shield his eyes, letting out a sharp curse as microscopic stones grazed his cheek and forehead. “Get them! Don't let them reach the alley!” Victor roared, stumbling backward against the hood of the black sedan while wiping frantically at his face.
The heavy-set accomplice in the canvas jacket reacted instantly, sprinting around the front of the car with the iron tire iron gripped tightly in his thick fist. He hit the pavement with heavy, thunderous strides, closing the distance between himself and Jax at a terrifying speed.
Jax didn't look back. Pumping his legs with every ounce of strength he possessed, he clutched Leo tightly against his chest, the boy's light brown hair whipping wildly in the wind. The narrow alleyway between the elementary school and the neighboring brick laundromat yawned before them like a damp, concrete canyon. It was a maze of rusted fire escapes, overflowing industrial dumpsters, and tangled electrical wires humming with urban static.
“Hold on tight, Leo! Don't let go!” Jax shouted over the sound of his own ragged breathing.
They dove into the shadows of the alley just as a heavy iron tire iron struck the brick wall a mere inch from Jax’s shoulder, sending a shower of red dust and masonry fragments cascading over their heads. The second man skidded to a halt at the alley entrance, realizing the narrow space was too tight for a clean swing of his weapon.
“They went toward the old rail yard!” the accomplice yelled back toward the street, his voice echoing off the brick walls.
Jax pushed deeper into the labyrinth, his boots splashing through stagnant puddles of rainwater. He knew this part of town better than anyone; these were the forgotten industrial arteries where bikers, drifters, and outcasts lived in the margins of society. But familiarity wouldn't save them if Victor’s crew cut off the other end of the alleyway.
Suddenly, Jax slowed to a sharp halt behind a tall, rusted green dumpster. He gently set Leo down on his feet, though he kept one large, protective hand firmly on the boy's shoulder. Leo was trembling from head to toe, his big hazel eyes wide with pure, unfiltered terror.
“Jax… are we going to die?” Leo whispered, his voice cracking painfully.
Jax knelt down, wiping a streak of dirt and dried tears from the boy's pale cheek with his thumb. He forced a grim, reassuring smile onto his weathered face, even though his own lungs were burning for oxygen. “Listen to me, Leo. We are survivors. Your dad, you, and me. We don't die today. I need you to climb up that metal ladder onto the fire escape. Crawl through the window on the second floor—it leads into Mrs. Higgins’ old sewing shop. She used to patch my vests back in the day. She'll hide you.”
“What about you?” Leo cried, grabbing Jax’s sleeve desperately. “I’m not leaving you out here alone with those bad men!”
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“I’m going to draw them away,” Jax said firmly, untying the faded leather strap around his wrist and pressing it into the boy's tiny palm. “Take this. If you get separated, run straight to the truck stop off Highway 12. Ask for Big Mike. Show him this strap, and tell him the shadow rider sent you. Now go! Move!”
Before Leo could protest further, heavy footsteps echoed loudly at the far end of the alleyway. Someone was cutting them off from the front.
