Chapter 4
The glass door swung back and forth on its hinges, letting in a cool draft of rainy night air that stirred the white frosting on the floor. Jax didn't bother chasing her. He caught the swinging door with his hand, pulled it shut, and locked the deadbolt with a sharp, metallic click. The adrenaline that had surged through his veins moments earlier began to ebb, leaving him feeling hollow, exhausted, and profoundly old. He turned around to find Leo standing quietly near the living room sofa, still clutching the old photograph and the smartphone like a pair of fragile lifelines.
"She’s gone," Leo said quietly, stating the obvious as he wiped his damp eyes with the sleeve of his oversized jacket.
"She’s gone," Jax agreed, walking over to the boy and crouching down once more. He reached out and gently took the smartphone from Leo's hand, pressing the lock button to darken the screen. Then, his eyes dropped to the faded photograph. He studied the young face of the biker he used to be—a man full of rough edges and poor choices, but a man who had loved fiercely. He looked back up at the boy standing before him, noticing the uncanny resemblance in the shape of the jaw and the intense, hopeful set of the hazel eyes.
"Where did you get this picture, Leo?" Jax asked gently, his thumb tracing the corner of the worn paper.
"My mom kept it in her jewelry box," Leo answered, his voice steadying a little now that the immediate danger had passed. "She told me that if anything ever happened to her, I should find you. She said your name was Jax, and that you had a tattoo of a wolf on your right forearm."
Jax slowly rolled up the right sleeve of his dark t-shirt. There, stark against his pale, weathered skin, was the inked silhouette of a howling wolf, framed by thorny vines. Leo’s eyes widened slightly as he looked from the tattoo back up to the man's face. A small, tentative smile broke through the boy's tear-streaked expression for the very first time.
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"You're my dad," Leo stated, not as a question, but as a quiet, certain fact that had finally found its place in the world.
Jax felt a heavy knot form in his throat, pressing against his windpipe until it hurt. He had spent the last eight years believing that his former girlfriend, Clara, had aborted their child and fled the state out of fear of his violent reputation. She had cut all ties, leaving him with nothing but a bitter memory and an empty apartment. He had never known that Clara had kept the baby, raised him in secret, and spent her dying breath teaching her son to find the only man who could protect him.
