Chapter 10
The highway stretched ahead like a black ribbon cutting through the rolling Nebraska hills, illuminated only by the twin beams of the truck’s aging headlights. Inside the cab, the heater hummed a steady, rhythmic drone that blended with the quiet ticking of the dashboard clock.
Leo had fallen asleep an hour ago, his head resting against the passenger-side window, his small chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. Jax glanced over at him every few minutes, marveling at how fragile the boy looked, yet how immense his presence felt in the enclosed space.
Driving through the night was second nature to Jax; he had spent thousands of hours staring at the centerline, listening to the monotonous hum of tires on asphalt. But tonight, the road felt different. Every bump in the pavement carried a new weight. He wasn't just a drifter anymore; he was a father, stumbling blindly through the dark, trying to figure out how to piece together a life he had intentionally broken eight years ago.
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the old gold ring, turning it over in his palm. Hold Fast. The irony was almost choking. He had never held fast to anything in his life except his own stubborn independence. Clara had held fast, raising their son alone, keeping his mementos in a metal box on a top shelf, and trusting that someday, somehow, he would do the right thing.
Jax gripped the steering wheel tighter with one hand, his knuckles turning white in the dim dashboard light. He couldn't undo the past. He couldn't give Leo back the eight years he had missed, nor could he bring Clara back to life. But as the truck rumbled through the quiet darkness toward Wyoming, Jax made a silent, unyielding vow to himself: he would never run away again.
By three in the morning, the fuel gauge dipped dangerously close to empty. Jax pulled off the highway at a desolate, all-night gas station illuminated by a flickering fluorescent sign that buzzed with an irritating whine. He parked near the lone pump, killed the engine, and stepped out into the crisp, biting night air.
He pumped the gas in silence, listening to the mechanical clicks of the meter. When he finished, he walked over to the small station store to pay. Inside, the clerk was half-asleep behind the counter, reading a dog-eared magazine. Jax grabbed a bottle of water and a bag of jerky for Leo, paying with crumpled bills from his wallet.
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As he stepped back out into the night, a pair of headlights swept across the parking lot. A dark sedan pulled in slowly, parking near the far side of the lot, its engine idling quietly.
Jax froze. His instincts, honed by years on the fringes of the law, flared instantly. He didn't recognize the car, but the timing was too precise. Dalton and the Iron Skulls didn't leave loose ends, and they certainly didn't let people walk away from debts so easily.
