PART 2: The Medallion Revealed a Biker’s Hidden Past
The smoky biker café fell completely silent.
Pool balls stopped rolling across the tables.
Coffee cups froze halfway to mouths.
Even the old jukebox seemed quieter somehow.
At the back corner booth, the massive biker holding the scratched medallion stared at it like it might burn through his hands.
His name was Boone Carter.
And the engraving inside the medallion shattered twenty years of buried guilt.
BROTHERS TILL THE LAST RIDE.
— JACE
Boone’s breathing became uneven.
Across the café, several older bikers slowly stood from their chairs.
Every one of them recognized the name.
Jace Morgan.
Former road captain of the Steel Vipers.
The man they believed died during a violent border run nearly twelve years earlier.
The little girl tightened her grip on the younger boy’s hand. “You knew him, didn’t you?”
Boone looked at her carefully for the first time.
She had Jace’s eyes.
The same stubborn expression too.
“What’s your name, kid?” he asked quietly.
“Lily.”
“And the boy?”
“My brother, Noah.”
Boone slowly sat back down, stunned.
Jace once told the crew that if he ever escaped the biker life, he wanted two children and a small house far away from highways and gunfire.
Nobody thought he’d live long enough to have either.
But somehow…
he did.
Boone looked down at the medallion again.
There was fresh damage on the back now.
A long deep scratch that hadn’t been there years ago.
His expression darkened immediately.
“Where did your mother get this?”
Lily swallowed hard.
“My dad mailed it to us last month.”
Every biker in the café froze.
“That’s impossible,” someone whispered.
Boone slowly looked up. “Why?”
Lily’s voice trembled.
“Because he said people were hunting him again.”
The café suddenly felt colder.
One older biker cursed quietly beneath his breath.
The Steel Vipers had enemies everywhere back then.
But only one group ever managed to break Jace.
The Black Kings.
A ruthless biker syndicate believed to have disappeared years ago.
Boone leaned forward carefully. “Where’s your father now?”
Lily’s eyes filled with tears.
“He was supposed to meet us yesterday.”
Noah suddenly hugged his sister tighter.
“He never came.”
Boone’s jaw tightened.
Around the café, bikers exchanged nervous looks.
Because deep down…
they all remembered the truth.
Jace Morgan never actually died.
The club lied.
To protect him.
To hide him.
And maybe…
to save themselves.
Then the front door of the café creaked open again.
Cold wind swept through the room.
Three men wearing black leather coats stepped inside slowly.
Their jackets carried a symbol Boone hadn’t seen in over a decade.
A gold crown stitched over a skull.
The Black Kings.
One of the men smiled coldly after spotting Lily.
“Well,” he said softly, “looks like we finally found Jace’s family.”
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