The next morning, Black Hollow woke to sunshine.
Actual sunshine.
No rain.
No storms.
No dark clouds hanging over the mountains.
The entire town looked different.
Brighter.
Warmer.
Almost normal.
Unfortunately, my life remained anything but normal.
I was halfway through making coffee when a motorcycle engine roared outside.
Then another.
And another.
The sound grew louder until the entire building seemed to vibrate.
I walked toward the front window.
Curious.
Outside, nearly a dozen motorcycles were lined up in front of Reaper’s Bar.
The Reapers.
Every single one of them.
Leather vests.
Boots.
Engines rumbling.
A wall of chrome and muscle.
The sight was ridiculous.
And admittedly a little impressive.
“What’s happening?”
Maria glanced up from the counter.
“Club run
