Chapter 3 - Echoes of a Ghost
The basement of the bar smelled of stale beer and damp earth. The boy—who told Brick his name was Leo—sat shivering on a crate of whiskey, listening to the muffled thumps and screams echoing from the floorboards above. Dust drifted down like snow every time a heavy body hit the ground upstairs.
After what felt like an eternity, the trapdoor groaned open. A heavy combat boot stepped down. Leo scrambled backward, holding a broken glass bottle with trembling hands.
"Easy, kid. It's me," Brick’s raspy voice echoed in the dark. He climbed down, his leather vest torn, a fresh bloody graze crossing his jawline. Behind him came three other bikers, dragging heavy duffel bags. The rest of the gang was gone. Whether dead or scattered, Leo didn't dare ask.
"They're burning the bar," Brick said grimly, tossing a bag to his second-in-command, a wiry man named Snake. "We have three minutes before the smoke gets us. We’re taking the old prohibition tunnels."
Snake looked at the boy, his eyes narrowed. "Brick, half our brothers are bleeding out up there. The men outside... they aren't cops, and they aren't a rival MC. That’s the Obsidian Syndicate. Cartel ghosts. We’re sticking our necks out for a kid we don’t even know."
Brick stepped into Snake’s personal space, towering over him. He held up the bloody gold coin. "You see this? Ten years ago, Elias carried me for three miles with a bullet in my lung. This coin means the Iron Hounds owe him a life. We are paying the debt. If you got a problem with that, you can walk out the front door and introduce yourself to the Syndicate."
Snake swallowed hard, looking away. "No problem, boss."
Brick turned to Leo, his hard eyes softening just a fraction. He knelt down, his massive, calloused hand gently taking the broken bottle from the boy’s grip. "Leo, right? Listen to me. Your dad saved my life. Now, I’m gonna save yours. But you have to be brave. Can you do that?"
May you like
Leo looked at the giant man, sniffing, and wiped his nose on his dirty sleeve. He gave a small, determined nod.
"Good," Brick grunted, racking the slide of his pistol. "Let’s disappear."
