PART 3: “That Name Is Dead.”
The biker leader slammed his hand onto the table so hard that every glass rattled. The sharp crack echoed through the restaurant, instantly silencing the laughter and conversations around the room.
He shot to his feet, his eyes burning with emotion.
“THAT NAME IS DEAD!”
The entire restaurant froze.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Only the sound of his heavy breathing filled the silence.
Across from him, the young woman remained perfectly still.
She didn’t flinch.
She didn’t step back.
She didn’t even blink.
Instead, she looked at him calmly, as if she had been expecting those exact words all along.
“My father said you’d say that,” she replied quietly.
Something shifted in the room.
Chairs scraped softly across the floor.
Coffee cups were set down with trembling hands.
Several members of the motorcycle club slowly straightened in their seats, their expressions suddenly turning serious.
This was no longer an ordinary conversation.
The biker leader took another step toward her, much more slowly this time.
His voice had changed.
