PART 2: Reaper Learns Ghost May Have Never Died
The office phones kept ringing.
Shrill.
Endless.
One after another until the cramped landlord’s office sounded like an alarm nobody could shut off.
The landlord stared at the flashing lines with sweat rolling down his temples. His hands trembled so badly he knocked over a coffee mug reaching for the nearest receiver.
“Hello?” he stammered.
Silence answered him.
Then the line clicked dead.
Another phone rang immediately.
Then another.
Reaper never moved.
The massive biker stood in the center of the office like something carved from asphalt and violence, gray eyes locked on the terrified man behind the desk.
Beside him, the little girl held tightly to the back of his leather vest.
“What’s your name, kid?” Reaper asked quietly without looking down.
“Lucy.”
“How long were you and your mom staying here?”
Lucy hesitated.
“Almost four months.”
Reaper’s jaw tightened.
The apartment building outside wasn’t fit for animals. Mold crawled up the walls. Broken windows were covered with cardboard. The landlord had been threatening eviction for weeks despite knowing the girl’s mother was sick.
And now Ghost’s daughter had walked into a diner wearing shoes held together with tape.
One of the bikers behind Reaper cracked his knuckles slowly. “Boss…”
Reaper lifted one hand slightly.
Not yet.
The landlord grabbed another ringing phone with shaking fingers.
“WHAT?” he snapped.
A voice on the other end spoke briefly.
The landlord’s face lost what little color remained.
“You’re lying.”
The call ended.
Reaper finally spoke again.
“What’d they say?”
The landlord swallowed hard.
“My bank accounts…” His voice cracked. “They’re frozen.”
Another phone rang.
Then another.
One of the bikers grinned coldly.
Ghost’s old network.
Still alive.
Still watching.
Reaper slowly picked up the photograph from the desk again.
Daniel Cole stood smiling in the picture, raven tattoo visible beneath rolled sleeves, one arm wrapped around Lucy’s mother while she held a baby bundled in pink blankets.
Taken nine years ago.
One year before Ghost supposedly died in a warehouse fire outside Reno.
Reaper looked down at Lucy carefully.
“Your mom ever tell you what happened to your father?”
Lucy shook her head.
“She said people were hunting him.”
The room went still again.
Because that part was true.
Ghost had vanished after stealing something from the Black Wolves cartel—something valuable enough to ignite a war that buried half the Ravens motorcycle club in the ground.
The official story claimed Ghost died buying everyone else time to escape.
But no one ever found a body.
Reaper stared at the picture harder now.
A thought slowly turning dangerous.
“What did your mom say before she sent you to us?”
Lucy’s fingers tightened around his vest.
“She said if bad men ever came back…” Tears gathered in her eyes. “I should find the biker with the skull ring.”
Reaper looked down instinctively at the silver skull ring on his hand.
Ghost used to joke he’d be buried wearing it.
Then Lucy whispered the words that hollowed the entire room.
“She said my dad trusted you more than anyone.”
Reaper looked away sharply.
Because eight years ago, he was the one who told Ghost to take the deal.
Take the money.
Disappear.
Save his family.
And if Ghost somehow survived after all this time…
Then somebody lied to the Ravens.
A loud motorcycle roared outside the office windows.
Then another.
Bikers moved instantly toward the glass.
Three black SUVs rolled slowly to a stop across the street.
No plates.
Tinted windows.
Reaper’s face darkened immediately.
The Black Wolves.
One SUV door opened.
A tall man stepped out wearing a long black coat despite the heat.
Half his face was burned with old scar tissue twisting down his neck.
Lucy gasped beside Reaper.
“That’s him,” she whispered fearfully. “That’s the man Mommy was hiding from.”
The scarred man looked up toward the office window.
And smiled directly at Reaper.
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