We followed Dad back to his office in silence—me, Rook, Blaze, and Tank—the weight of the church meeting clinging to us like smoke that wouldn't wash off. The hallway felt tighter than usual, the shadows stretching too long across the cracked tile floors, like the old school building itself knew something was wrong.
Dad didn't speak until the office door shut behind us with a dull, final thud. Only then did he exhale. It was small, barely noticeable, but I caught it. His shoulders dipped just enough to give him away, and that alone told me how bad this was.
"We should wait until Breaker gets here," he said, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. A rare tell. "He rolls in tomorrow night."
Breaker, the road ghost. The one brother who always knew more than he ever said. He was a trucker for his day job and a biker by night. He helped with shipments from the club, but mostly he just liked the open road. I have never met a biker that likes a cage until him.
I nodded, leaning forward slightly. "His old connections will help. He runs cargo through Riders' territory. He hears things the rest of us don't."
Rook hummed in agreement, arms crossed tight over his chest, eyes locked on Dad like he was trying to read past the words and into whatever wasn't being said. Blaze leaned against the wall, tension written all over him, protective, pissed, barely holding it together.
Tank, on the other hand, looked almost eager.
He braced his massive shoulder against the filing cabinet, the metal groaning under his weight as a slow grin pulled at his mouth. "Once he's here… we can start picking people up."
A cold thread slid down my spine.
I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. "We're not a one-percent club anymore. We can't just..."
Tank's look cut me off mid-sentence. The kind of look that reminded every one of us exactly what we used to be.
"We may not wear the patch anymore," he said, voice low and carved from stone, "but we still protect what's ours." His chin jerked upward, toward the ceiling, toward her.
"And that little girl upstairs?" His voice dropped deeper, thick with something that settled heavy in the room. "She's ours."
No one said a word. They didn't have to. Agreement moved through the room like a pulse, quiet, powerful, undeniable. Something old. Something buried. Something waking back up. Rook's jaw tightened. Blaze's hands curled into fists.
Even the air felt heavier, charged with that dangerous loyalty we'd spent years trying to unlearn. And in that moment… I wondered if we ever actually had. Maybe we'd taken the one-percent off the patch, but not out of our blood.
Dad, Bear, dragged a hand down his face, slower this time. That was the real tell. The one he couldn't hide. This wasn't just bad. This was personal.
"I think my father's involved," he said quietly.
The silence that followed hit like a dropped brick. It was hard, sudden, and final.
Undertaker, the former president whom also was my grandfather. The man who built this club from nothing… and nearly destroyed it just as fast. The ghost none of us ever really escaped.
Rook straightened immediately, all sharp edges and control. "Why?"
Dad shook his head once. "A feeling. But if I'm right… this is bigger than the school. Bigger than the hospital. Bigger than the Riders."
Way deeper than any of us wanted. Blaze swore under his breath. Tank's jaw flexed hard enough to crack teeth. Rook's gaze dropped to the floor like he was already mapping out moves five steps ahead.
And me?
I closed my laptop slowly, because suddenly the files inside weren't just evidence anymore. They were warnings. If Undertaker was in this…Then he wasn't standing with us, but not this time. And the worst part? I didn't know if we were ready for that.
Part of me, half of me, wanted to burn the whole damn city down for what had been done to her. That instinct ran deep. Club deep. Family deep.
But the other half… The other half hesitated. She was a stranger. Dropped into our lives like a lit fuse we didn't spark but now had to carry before it blew. She'd already changed things. A shifted the balance. It was pulling something out of us we'd tried to bury.
I could feel it, feel us slipping. Sliding back into something we swore we left behind. And I didn't know if protecting her was the first step in saving her… or the first step in destroying everything we built to get out.
The thought hit harder than anything else: If Undertaker was really involved… how could our own blood be this twisted? He was supposed to be gone, locked away, and out of the game. Dad made sure of that.
At least… that's what we thought. Now? I didn't know anything anymore. Not even which side I was supposed to be on.
"Everyone out," Dad said finally, voice low but firm. "I need to talk to Doc and RN."
No one argued. No one questioned.
"Where are they?" he added without looking up.
"Got off shift about thirty minutes ago," I said, pushing back from my chair. "They should be here soon."
He nodded once, distracted, already somewhere else in his head. "Send them in when they arrive."
"Got it."
I stepped out into the hallway, pulling the office door shut behind me. Leaving Dad alone… with a truth none of us were ready to face.