PART 2: The Raven Tattoo and the Chain That Shouldn’t Exist
Jace didn’t take the chain right away.
His eyes stayed locked on it, like moving would make it disappear.
The diner felt quieter than it should’ve been. Even the ceiling fan seemed to slow.
Finally, he reached out—slow, careful—and took it from the girl’s small hand.
The metal was burned black.
But the shape… he knew it too well.
A custom link pattern. One he’d helped design years ago.
For Eli Carter.
Jace’s jaw tightened.
“Where did you get this?” he asked again, lower this time.
The girl didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, she watched him like she was measuring whether he could handle the truth.
Then she said softly:
“He told me to come here if I found the raven.”
One of the bikers behind Jace muttered, “Eli Carter’s dead.”
Jace didn’t respond.
Because he was staring at something else now.
A faint engraving on the inside of the chain link.
A number.
Not random.
A prison intake code.
His grip tightened.
“You shouldn’t have this,” he said quietly.
The girl blinked. “My mom said it was the only thing that would make you listen.”
That word—listen—shifted something in him.
Jace slowly stood up from the booth.
The chair scraped back loudly across the floor.
Every biker nearby straightened instantly.
Jace looked down at the girl fully now.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Lily.”
The name landed softly, but it didn’t feel soft at all.
Jace repeated it under his breath, like testing it against a memory he had locked away.
Then his eyes drifted to the raven tattoo on his arm.
Same bird.
Same mark.
Same past.
He exhaled slowly.
“Eli didn’t just send you here,” he said.
The girl shook her head.
“No,” she whispered. “He said you’d know what they did to him.”
A long silence followed.
Then Jace turned his head slightly toward the booth window.
Outside, across the quiet Ohio street, a black car sat parked under a dying streetlight.
Engine running.
Waiting.
Jace’s expression hardened immediately.
Not fear.
Confirmation.
He gently closed his fist around the burned chain.
Then spoke without looking away from the window:
“Everybody finish your coffee.”
A pause.
Then, quieter:
“We’ve got company.”
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