CREEPER
I grabbed the phone and scrolled through the old notifications. I tapped Cutter’s name, staring at the numbers glowing on the screen.
I didn’t press call.
Not yet.
Instead, I walked out of the garage into the yard behind the clubhouse. The night air was cool, the sky streaked with deep blue shadows. Engines hummed faintly from the front lot as members tuned their bikes or returned from runs. Music thumped from inside. Laughter. Bottles clinking.
Business as usual.
But it wouldn’t stay that way.
Beast coming home meant war on the horizon.
I lit a cigarette, inhaling deep before letting the smoke drift upward.
My father had always told me, “If I ever come back, son, something in this world has shifted.”
When he said those words, I knew it meant I’d never see my father again
