Chapter 9 - Trapped In The Ashes
The acrid smell of burning rubber and scorched mesquite hung thick in the air, choking the cooling desert night. The massive pillar of black smoke from the exploding propane tanks cast long, dancing shadows across the ruined mill yard. Marcus Vance stepped forward through the haze, his immaculate charcoal suit now stained with soot and sweat, the silver revolver in his hand still smoking lightly at the barrel.
He walked slowly toward where Jax lay pinned against the dusty earth, clutching his bleeding left shoulder. Blood soaked rapidly through the black leather of Jax’s vest, pooling darkly onto the dry soil beneath him. Eight-year-old Leo knelt beside the biker, his small hands desperately pressing against the wound, tears streaming freely down his pale, dirt-streaked cheeks.
“You missed your heart, Marcus,” Jax gasped, a grim, defiant smile touching the corners of his scarred mouth as he spat a drop of blood onto the gravel. “Must be getting rusty in your old age.”
Marcus stopped a few feet away, his cold grey eyes narrowing with pure malice. He raised the barrel of the revolver, leveling it squarely at the space between Jax’s eyes.
“I never miss when I actually want to make a point, Jax,” Marcus hissed smoothly. “And right now, you’ve been a massive thorn in my side for eight years. Putting you down permanently is a luxury I’ve been looking forward to.”
The two remaining mercenaries stood behind Marcus, their automatic rifles aimed steadily at Leo, ready to finish the job at a single nod from their boss.
Leo didn’t look at the guns. He kept his hazel eyes locked onto Marcus, his young jaw set with a stubborn, unbreakable courage that mirrored the wounded biker beside him.
“You’re not going to win,” Leo whispered, his voice shaking but completely clear in the tense silence. “The police already have copies of the ledger. Brenda called the state troopers right after we left the diner.”
Marcus’s calm facade twitched for a split second, a flicker of genuine uncertainty crossing his pale face before he masked it with a cruel sneer.
“A charming bluff, kid,” Marcus replied, though his eyes darted nervously toward the distant highway entrance. “State troopers are forty miles away in the town over. By the time they smell smoke out here, you two will be buried six feet deep beneath the badlands sand.”
Marcus stepped closer, kicking the heavy leather school backpack aside with the toe of his expensive Italian leather shoe. The bag tipped open, spilling a cascade of aged, handwritten notebooks, financial ledgers, and polaroid photographs onto the dusty ground.
“Finally,” Marcus murmured greedily, lowering his weapon just an inch as he knelt down to scoop up the scattered documents. “Eight years of hiding, all ending right here.”
It was the exact window of distraction Jax had been waiting for. With a sudden, explosive roar of pain and adrenaline, Jax lunged forward from the dirt, driving his heavy right fist straight into Marcus’s jaw with a bone-cracking impact that sent the corporate criminal flying backward onto the gravel, his silver revolver skidding away into the dark shadows.
“Now, Leo! Run!” Jax roared, shoving the boy toward the idling black chopper parked fifty yards away.
May you like
Before Leo could take two steps, one of the mercenaries lunged forward, grabbing the back of the boy’s oversized jacket and lifting him effortlessly off the ground, a cold knife pressed directly against Leo’s throat.
---
