Chapter 5
Leo did not cower, but he instinctively shifted half a step closer to Jax’s broad leg, his small fingers brushing against the cold leather of the biker’s vest. Jax felt the light contact ripple through his entire frame, overriding the defensive instincts that had kept him alive on the fringes for over a decade. Without turning his head fully, Jax lifted his left hand from the counter, his scarred knuckles catching the harsh fluorescent light above.
"Back off, Vance," Jax said, his voice dropping into a register so dangerously quiet that it forced the approaching biker to halt mid-stride. There was no bluster in the tone, only the absolute finality of a predator drawing a boundary line in the dirt.
Vance sneered, shifting his weight onto his thick right boot while his companion hovered just behind him like a looming shadow. "Just checking on our old brother, man. You’ve been ghosting the compound for months, and now you’re entertaining stray kids in a greasy spoon? Management’s gonna wonder if you’ve gone soft, Jax. Running errands for runaways isn't what we signed up for."
"What I do and who I talk to is my business," Jax replied, finally turning his head just enough to pin Vance with a cold, unblinking stare. The weathered skin around his dark eyes tightened. "This isn't your concern. Go finish your lukewarm beer."
Vance’s gaze flicked down from Jax’s face to the pale boy standing beside the stool, then to the faded photograph and the lined piece of notebook paper resting on the counter. A slow, predatory grin spread across Vance’s scarred face as his mind calculated the potential leverage hidden in plain sight. "Cute kid. Looks a bit familiar, actually. Got that same sullen look you wear like a cheap badge of honor. Sure you don't want us to help you... escort him back to wherever he crawled out from?"
Before Vance could take another step forward, Martha stepped out from the swinging kitchen doors, her hands gripped tightly around a heavy iron skillet she had clearly pulled off the back burner. Her face was flushed, her jaw set with a fierce, protective maternal fury that defied her ordinary diner-waitress demeanor.
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"Step away from the counter, mister," Martha said, her voice ringing out sharp and clear across the room. "I’ve already got the sheriff’s direct line dialed into the register phone, and he’s just two blocks over managing the rally traffic. You want to test how fast he clears out this place?"
Vance glared at Martha, weighing the odds before offering a slow, mocking salute with two fingers. He backed away, laughing quietly.
