PART 2: The Black Vultures Realize Caleb Knows Too Much
Rain hammered the garage roof harder as silence spread through the Black Vultures compound.
Caleb Mercer stood beside the ruined Harley gripping the wrench tightly, refusing to look away from the men surrounding him.
The mechanic crossed his arms slowly.
“You even know what you’re looking at, kid?”
Caleb nodded once.
“Shovelhead engine. Late seventies frame.” His eyes drifted across the rusted bike carefully. “Fuel line’s cracked… and somebody stripped the ignition.”
Several bikers exchanged quiet looks instantly.
The mechanic’s smirk disappeared.
Because he was right.
Every word.
“What did your mother tell you about Daniel Mercer?” another biker asked from the shadows near the tool racks.
Caleb hesitated.
“Not much.” His voice lowered. “Just that he used to belong here.”
Thunder rolled across Missouri.
The mechanic stared at the boy for several long seconds before stepping closer.
“Daniel Mercer didn’t ‘belong’ here,” he said quietly. “He built half this club.”
Caleb looked back at the old Harley.
Rainwater dripped from the garage doorway while the storm darkened the yard outside.
Then the mechanic pointed toward the bike.
“Start with the carburetor.”
Caleb crouched carefully beside the Harley.
Hands shaking slightly.
But not from fear anymore.
From recognition.
Like he’d touched these parts before.
The mechanic noticed instantly.
“So who taught you?”
Caleb stopped moving for a second.
Then answered softly.
“My dad.”
The entire garage went still.
One biker muttered under his breath.
“That’s impossible.”
Because Daniel Mercer had supposedly died twelve years earlier in a warehouse fire outside Kansas City.
No body was recovered.
But nobody from the Black Vultures ever spoke his name afterward.
The mechanic slowly knelt beside Caleb now, voice lower than before.
“When’s the last time you saw him?”
Caleb’s fingers tightened around the wrench.
“Three nights ago.”
Every biker in the garage froze.
Outside the compound fence, the black SUV continued idling beneath the rain.
Watching.
Waiting.
The mechanic’s expression darkened instantly.
“Kid…” he whispered carefully. “If Daniel Mercer’s alive, you need to tell us where he is right now.”
Caleb looked up slowly.
Fear returned to his face for the first time since arriving.
Then he whispered the words that made every biker inside the garage reach for weapons without thinking.
“He told me somebody inside this club betrayed him.”
At that exact moment—
The black SUV’s headlights switched on across the street.
And the engine revved hard beneath the storm.
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