PART 2: The Road That Brought Him Here
The boy couldn’t answer right away.
His grip tightened on Cormac Hale’s arm, small fingers digging in like letting go meant disappearing.
“Hey,” Cormac said quietly, steady as steel. “Breathe first.”
The boy tried.
Shallow.
Fast.
Then finally—
“They’re close.”
That was enough.
Cormac didn’t ask who.
Not yet.
He stood slowly, the scrape of his chair cutting through the silence like a warning. Around the room, the other riders didn’t move—but they were already watching.
Already listening.
“What’s your name?” Cormac asked.
“…Noah.”
Cormac nodded once. “Alright, Noah. You stay right here.”
Noah shook his head quickly, panic flashing again. “No—I can’t—if they see me—”
Cormac crouched slightly, bringing himself eye level.
“They won’t,” he said.
Simple.
Certain.
Noah froze.
Because he believed him.
That was the problem.
Outside—
engines.
Low at first.
Then clearer.
Not bikes.
Too smooth. Too controlled.
Heads in the roadhouse turned toward the windows as headlights stretched across the dirt lot, long and sharp in the fading light.
Three vehicles.
Black.
Stopping slow.
No rush.
Like they knew exactly where they were.
Cormac stood again.
“Back room,” he said without looking.
Two men moved instantly, guiding Noah away without a word. The boy hesitated once—looking back—
Cormac gave a small nod.
Go.
The door shut behind him.
The engines outside cut.
Silence fell heavy.
Then—
car doors opened.
Measured.
Confident.
Cormac rolled his shoulders once, finishing the last sip of his coffee like nothing had changed.
Then he set the cup down.
“Don’t start it,” one of the older riders muttered. “Not yet.”
Cormac didn’t answer.
Because sometimes—
you didn’t wait.
The front door opened.
No hesitation.
A man stepped in—clean, pressed, completely wrong for the place.
The suited man
He glanced around once, taking in the room, the men, the silence.
Then his eyes landed on Cormac.
“Evening,” he said calmly. “A boy came in here.”
Cormac didn’t move. “Lots of people come in here.”
The man smiled slightly. “Not like him.”
Behind him, two more figures appeared in the doorway. Not loud. Not aggressive.
Just ready.
Cormac tilted his head. “What’d he do?”
The man stepped forward a fraction. “He took something.”
There it was.
Always something.
Cormac’s gaze didn’t shift. “He doesn’t look like he can carry much.”
The man’s smile thinned. “You’d be surprised.”
A beat.
Then—
“He’s not yours to protect.”
That landed wrong.
Cormac took one step forward.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
“Everything that walks through that door looking like that,” he said quietly, “becomes my problem.”
The room shifted behind him.
Chairs moved.
Boots adjusted.
Not loud.
But final.
The man noticed.
Of course he did.
“You don’t understand what you’re getting involved in,” he said.
Cormac’s voice dropped lower.
“I understand enough.”
Outside, one of the engines turned over again—low, idling, like a reminder.
Inside, the air tightened.
The man’s eyes flicked once toward the back of the roadhouse.
Small mistake.
Cormac saw it.
And that was all he needed.
“He stays,” Cormac said.
The man exhaled slowly.
“Then this gets complicated.”
Cormac cracked his neck slightly.
“No,” he replied. “You made it simple.”
A long pause.
Then the man nodded once—like a decision had been made.
“Alright,” he said softly.
Behind him—
movement.
Fast.
Wrong.
Cormac didn’t wait.
Because whatever Noah had brought with him—
was already trying to take him back.
And that wasn’t happening.
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