Chapter 3
The back alley was pitch black.
Rain slashed sideways, bouncing off the pavement.
Three motorcycles sat idling.
Low.
Mean.
Ready to tear the night in half.
Tracker was already on his, scanning the alley entrance.
Bones was kicking his kickstand up.
Grizz lifted Emma effortlessly and set her sideways on the seat of his custom chopper.
“Put your legs on this side. Wrap your arms around my waist,” he instructed.
She did.
Her small arms barely reached halfway around him, but she squeezed with all her might.
She buried her face into his back.
“You good, kid?” he called back.
He felt a tiny nod against his spine.
“Hold on!”
Grizz twisted the throttle.
The engine roared like a caged beast suddenly set free.
The three bikes shot out of the alley just as two black SUVs swerved around the corner, their high beams blinding in the rain.
“Go, go, go!” Tracker yelled.
They hit the main street at eighty miles an hour.
The rain felt like needles, but Grizz didn’t care.
His mind was racing faster than the engine beneath him.
Lena.
She had been here this whole time.
Running.
Hiding.
Raising their child in fear because a monster had threatened his life.
Guilt clawed at his throat.
He had hated her for leaving.
He had spent ten years drowning the pain in whiskey and bar fights, thinking she had just stopped loving him.
But she had saved him.
And in return, she had lived a nightmare.
He felt Emma’s small hands gripping his shirt.
His daughter.
He had a daughter.
He didn't have time to process the miracle of it.
He only had time to protect it.
They weaved through the city traffic, dodging cars, running red lights.
The black SUVs were heavy, but they had power.
They were gaining on the straightaways.
“Take the underpass!” Bones shouted into his helmet comms.
Grizz swerved hard to the left, leaning the heavy bike dangerously low.
Emma gasped but held on tight.
They plunged into the concrete tunnel of the underpass.
The sound of the engines was deafening here.
“Tracker, block them!” Grizz ordered.
Tracker slowed down slightly, falling behind Grizz and Bones.
As the first SUV entered the tunnel, Tracker hit his brakes, sliding his bike sideways into a controlled skid, blocking the narrow lanes.
The SUV slammed on its brakes, tires screeching against the wet concrete, stopping inches from Tracker.
The second SUV smashed into the back of the first.
Tracker didn't wait.
He righted his bike, revved the engine, and sped after Grizz, leaving the crumpled SUVs trapped in the tunnel.
Ten minutes later, they pulled up to the emergency entrance of St. Jude’s Hospital.
Grizz killed the engine.
He hopped off and lifted Emma into his arms.
She didn't let go of his neck.
He carried her like she weighed nothing at all.
Bones and Tracker flanked him.
They walked through the sliding glass doors like a storm rolling into a quiet room.
Nurses looked up.
Security guards stiffened.
Three massive, soaked bikers and a little girl in an oversized leather jacket.
Grizz walked straight to the front desk.
The receptionist, a young woman in scrubs, backed away slightly.
“I need to find a patient,” Grizz said.
His voice was calm.
But it was the kind of calm that warned of an explosion.
“N-name?” the receptionist stammered.
“Lena. Lena Hayes.”
The receptionist typed frantically.
“She... she’s in ICU. Room 412. But you can’t go up there. It’s restricted. Only family.”
“I’m family,” Grizz said.
He didn’t wait for permission.
He strode past the desk, heading for the elevators.
A security guard stepped in his path.
“Sir, you need to wait—”
Bones stepped forward, gently but firmly placing a hand on the guard’s chest, moving him aside like a piece of furniture.
“Take a break, buddy,” Bones said nicely. “You don’t want this paperwork.”
The elevator doors opened.
Grizz stepped inside, holding Emma tight.
He looked down at her.
She looked up at him.
Her eyes—his eyes—were wide, filled with a mixture of fear and absolute awe.
“We’re almost there, kid,” he whispered.
The doors chimed on the fourth floor.
Grizz stepped out.
Down the hall, standing outside Room 412, were two men in cheap suits.
David’s men.
They hadn't just been chasing them; they had been guarding the prize.
Grizz didn’t stop walking.
He handed Emma to Tracker.
“Keep her eyes covered,” Grizz said softly.
Tracker nodded, turning Emma away and shielding her face against his chest.
The two men in suits saw Grizz coming.
They reached inside their jackets.
They never got the chance to draw.
Grizz closed the distance in three massive strides.
He didn't use words.
He used ten years of rage.
He grabbed the first man by the lapels and slammed him into the concrete wall so hard the plaster cracked.
The man slumped to the floor instantly.
The second man threw a punch.
Grizz caught the fist in his massive hand, twisted the wrist until the man screamed, and drove his knee into the man’s stomach.
It was over in five seconds.
May you like
Grizz adjusted his vest, breathing heavily.
He turned the handle of Room 412 and pushed the door open.
