Chapter 2: The Ghost from the Past
The diner grew suffocatingly quiet, save for the rhythmic humming of the old refrigerator in the corner.
Martha stepped closer, wiping her hands on her apron, her suspicion giving way to uneasy curiosity as she looked at Jax’s frozen expression.
"Everything alright over here, Jax?" she asked, her voice dropping its professional warmth.
Jax didn't move. He kept his massive hand planted firmly over the small folded paper, as if trying to physically trap the words written inside.
His chest heaved under the leather vest, every breath a calculated effort to suppress the sudden storm of emotions threatening to break his tough exterior.
He slowly raised his head, his dark eyes locking onto the eight-year-old boy standing beside him.
"Where is she?" Jax demanded, his voice barely a rasp, stripped of its usual menace.
The boy, whose name still hung unspoken between them, swallowed hard, his big hazel eyes shimmering with unshed tears that he stubbornly refused to let fall.
"She’s at the motel by the highway," the boy whispered, his voice trembling slightly for the first time. "She said she couldn’t run anymore, Jax. She said her time ran out."
Martha gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Good God. Is that... is that Sarah?" she whispered, her eyes widening as she finally connected the boy's face to faded memories of a girl who had vanished from this dusty town nearly a decade ago.
Jax ignored Martha completely. He pushed himself off the stool, towering over the counter, the heavy brass chains on his belt clinking softly.
He snatched the folded paper and thrust it into his jacket pocket, his movements sharp and decisive.
"What's your name, kid?" Jax asked, his tone softening just a fraction, though his jaw remained clenched.
"Leo," the boy replied, lifting his chin with a stubborn pride that mirrored the biker's own.
Jax stared down at Leo, the weight of a ten-year-old secret crushing down on his broad shoulders.
He reached out, his calloused, ink-stained fingers brushing against the edge of the old faded photograph still resting on the counter.
"Listen to me, Leo," Jax said, leaning down so his face was level with the boy's. "You stay right here with Martha. Don't move an inch."
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"No!" Leo protested, his voice rising sharply as he grabbed the hem of Jax’s leather vest. "You have to come with me right now, or she won't make it!"
Before Jax could respond, the diner door was kicked wide open, and three heavy-set men in matching rival club cuts strode inside, their eyes instantly locking onto Jax and the boy.
