Chapter 1: The Name He Never Forgot
Chapter 1: The Name He Never Forgot
The bar stayed silent.
The only sound was the rain hammering against the windows.
The biker leader—everyone called him Knox—never took his eyes off the little girl.
"Lily," he repeated quietly.
His voice had changed.
One of the older bikers frowned.
"Boss?"
Knox ignored him.
Instead, he noticed the small silver locket hanging around the girl's neck. It was scratched and old, hanging from a frayed blue string instead of a chain.
His heartbeat stumbled.
He knew that locket.
Twenty-seven years earlier, he had given one exactly like it to the only woman he had ever truly loved.
Emma.
She had disappeared before she could tell him she was pregnant.
He had searched for years before finally believing she was gone forever.
Now...
The same locket rested against the chest of a frightened little girl named Lily.
Knox carefully held out his hand.
"Sweetheart... where's your mom?"
Lily pointed toward the storm.
"At the old Miller farmhouse."
Her lower lip trembled.
"My daddy isn't my real daddy."
Every man in the room exchanged glances.
"He locks Mommy in the basement when he's angry."
The room grew colder.
"He said tonight... nobody would hear her scream because of the storm."
No one reached for another drink.
Instead, engines began roaring outside.
Within thirty seconds, fifteen motorcycles exploded into the rain.
No one asked Knox whether they were riding.
They simply followed.
Because every man there had once been saved by someone.
Tonight...
It was their turn.
The ride through the storm felt endless.
Lightning split the sky every few seconds.
Mud sprayed beneath spinning tires as the convoy reached the isolated farmhouse sitting alone on top of a hill.
Only one upstairs window glowed.
Everything else was dark.
Knox killed his engine.
He listened.
Nothing.
Then—
A scream.
A woman's scream.
It ripped through the rain.
Knox didn't wait.
He kicked the front door open so hard it slammed against the wall.
Inside stood a broad-shouldered man holding a hunting rifle.
"You picked the wrong house," the man growled.
"No," Knox answered calmly.
"You picked the wrong woman."
The rifle never fired.
Three bikers were already behind him.
Within seconds the weapon hit the floor.
The man fought wildly until Knox grabbed him by the collar.
"Where is she?"
The man laughed.
"Too late."
Knox heard it.
A faint voice beneath the floorboards.
"...Help..."
Basement.
They rushed downstairs.
The door had been chained shut from the outside.
One swing from an axe shattered the lock.
When the door opened...
Everyone froze.
A woman sat chained to a support beam.
Bruised.
Weak.
Barely conscious.
Her hair hid most of her face.
Then she slowly looked up.
May you like
Knox stopped breathing.
"Emma..."
