CHAPTER 2 — THE BLOODLINE RIDES
The first knock didn’t come.
The door simply opened.
A tall man in a weathered black jacket stepped inside. No smile. No hesitation.
Then another.
And another.
Until the diner felt smaller, not because of space—but because of presence.
The lead rider removed his helmet.
Grey eyes.
Scar above his brow.
He looked directly at Walter.
Then he lowered his head slightly.
“Walter.”
The room changed.
Travis stepped back. “You know this old man?”
The rider didn’t look at him.
“He’s the reason we exist,” the man said quietly.
Walter didn’t move, but something in his eyes softened for half a second.
“Rook,” Walter said.
The rider nodded once.
Then his eyes dropped to the cane on the floor.
Something dangerous passed through his expression.
“Who touched it?”
No one answered.
But they didn’t need to.
Rook already knew.
Outside, more engines shut off.
Not arriving anymore.
Surrounding.
The diner windows now reflected an ocean of bikers.
Travis backed away slightly. “We didn’t know—”
Walter finally bent down.
Slowly picked up the cane.
Wiped it carefully with his sleeve.
Then looked at Travis.
“You never asked,” Walter said. “That was the problem.”
A pause.
May you like
Then—
“Not knowing doesn’t make it harmless.”
