PART 2: Reaper Rides Again
Thunder roared across the mountains while violent rain hammered against the windows of the biker pub.
Inside the dim orange glow—
silence crushed the room.
The massive biker known as Reaper remained kneeling on the old wooden floor with the frightened little girl held protectively against his chest.
The huge Rottweiler stood beside them motionless.
Watching the door.
Watching the storm.
The two bikers near the pool table slowly exchanged nervous looks.
Because none of them had heard the name Emma in years.
Reaper stared down at the worn photograph trembling in his rough tattooed hand.
Rainwater dripped from the little girl’s gray hoodie onto his leather vest.
“She said… you’d keep me safe…”
Her tiny voice nearly disappeared beneath the thunder.
Reaper shut his eyes briefly.
Pain flashed across his weathered face like an old wound reopening.
Emma.
The woman he lost.
The woman he never stopped searching for after she vanished twelve years earlier.
Then slowly—
he looked back at the child.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
The girl sniffled quietly.
“Lucy.”
Reaper’s breathing stopped.
Because Emma once told him—
if they ever had a daughter—
she wanted to name her Lucy.
The giant biker looked away instantly as emotion crashed through him.
Behind the bar—
an older gray-haired biker muttered softly beneath his breath.
“Oh God…”
Then suddenly—
HEADLIGHTS.
Bright white beams sliced through the rain-covered windows outside the pub.
Every biker in the room instantly turned toward the storm.
Engines growled beyond the darkness.
More than one.
Reaper slowly stood up while keeping Lucy safely in his arms.
The Rottweiler released a deep warning growl.
The atmosphere inside the pub changed instantly.
Cold.
Dangerous.
One biker quietly reached beneath the counter and grabbed a shotgun.
Another locked the front entrance.
Heavy boots echoed across the wooden floor while Reaper walked toward the rain-covered windows carrying the terrified child against his chest.
Outside—
three black pickup trucks rolled into the muddy parking lot beneath the storm.
Doors opened.
Men stepped out carrying rifles.
Lucy immediately buried her face into Reaper’s shoulder trembling violently.
“That’s him…”
Lightning exploded across the sky.
And standing beside the lead truck—
was a tall man wearing a long brown coat soaked by rain.
Cold eyes.
Cruel smile.
Silver revolver hanging at his hip.
The moment Reaper saw him—
rage darkened his face completely.
“Cal Miller.”
The other bikers stiffened immediately.
One whispered nervously:
“I thought he was dead…”
Cal slowly stepped forward through the storm toward the pub entrance.
Then suddenly—
BANG.
A rifle shot blasted into the wooden biker sign above the door.
Wood exploded across the rain.
Lucy screamed softly in fear.
Cal’s voice echoed through the storm moments later.
“Bring me my daughter, Reaper!”
Inside the pub—
the massive biker carefully lowered Lucy behind the bar beside the old Rottweiler.
The dog instantly positioned itself protectively in front of her.
Then Reaper slowly reached beneath his leather vest.
And pulled out a black revolver worn from years of use.
Thunder shook the building again.
The other bikers stood beside him silently.
Ready.
Because everyone inside that storm-covered biker pub understood the truth now.
Reaper wasn’t protecting a stranger’s child.
He was protecting his own daughter.
Our Facebook Group
Join Our Group
