Renegade Riders:Forbidden Flame

14-Crow

TWENTY YEARS EARLIER

~CROW~

"Let's get this show on the road, Crow," Phoenix muttered from beside me, his eyes gleaming with excitement beneath his black bandana. "The Serpents are going to be pissed when they find out we've pinched their stash."

That wasn't no s**t, I thought as I swung behind the steering wheel onto the bench seat of the pickup, adjusting my grip on the crowbar resting beside me, the weight of it reassuring in my hand.

The night air was cool and thick with the scent of gasoline and grease. The moon cast a silver glow over the shadowy streets, the only witness to our nocturnal escapade as I asked, You got the layout?"

A smirk played across Phoenix's lips. "Like the back of my hand. The Serpents are sloppy as ever."

The engine of the pickup roared to life, echoing off the graffiti-covered walls of the alley---the sound was a declaration of war in the silent night.

As we pulled out, the song 'Blue on Black' played in my head: a ballet of theft and betrayal. Minutes later, nearing the Serpents' hideout, I could feel my tension growing as I gazed at the warehouse looming a short ahead; a fortress of steel and concrete.

Thankfully, the night was our ally, shrouding us in a cloak of darkness as we parked close to the warehouse. Afterward, we headed toward the building, sticking to the shadows like we were born from them.

Silently reaching the fence, we scaled it with practiced ease. The shipment was supposed to be in the back, under the watchful eyes of the Serpents' goons. Without a pause, we continued moving forward, ghosts slipping past the guards like a cool breeze.

I signaled Phoenix with a hand gesture, and we split up, moving through the labyrinth of crates and motorcycles. The song grew louder in my head, a crescendo of anticipation. We had to be quick, precise. One mistake and the whole operation would blow up in our faces.

Stealthy moving from room to room, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot ripped through the air; a harsh note in my symphony of theft.

I froze, the color draining from my face. The sound was followed by a thud, then silence. The music in my head stopped, replaced by the thunderous beating of my heart. Phoenix, hurried around a corner heading my way, his eyes narrowed. He'd heard it too.

"That wasn't part of the plan," I growled, the weight of the crowbar suddenly feeling like a leaden anchor in my hand.

"No, it wasn't," Phoenix agreed, his voice tight with anger. "Can't leave without what we came for, though."

I gave a nod, and we moved forward, our steps quicker, more deliberate. The sound of the gunshot had sharpened our focus. The shipment was ours---we just needed to get it out before the Serpents realized they were being jacked.

The warehouse was a maze of darkness and danger, but we moved with the confidence of predators. The stakes had changed. Now, it wasn't just about the thrill of the heist. Now, it was about survival.

---

The gunshot still echoed in my ears as we approached the designated area. My heart hammered in my chest, the beat of 'Blue on Black' replaced by the frantic pulse of fear.

The shipment was there, but so was a pool of crimson, spreading like a grim blossom on the cold concrete floor. A Serpents' goon lay motionless, a gaping hole where his heart should have been. The smell of gunpowder mixed with the coppery tang of blood, a harsh contrast to the night's sweet aroma.

Phoenix's eyes searched the darkness, a silent question in his gaze. I could see the conflict raging in him—his loyalty to the gang warring with what it meant if we were caught.

Quickly we hoisted the crates onto a stolen handcart, the metal wheels squeaking in protest against the concrete. Each squeak was a scream of betrayal in the quiet night. The weight of the cargo felt heavier now, not just physically, but with the burden of our new reality. Nobody was supposed to have got hurt. Now we were under a death sentence.

Moving swiftly toward the exit, the music in my head grew softer, a whisper of doubt. Had we gone too far? The Serpents' anger would be a storm we'd never weather, not after this.

Moments later, when we reached the fence, I cut an area big enough to get the cart through, adrenaline pumping through my veins. Afterward, I threw my crowbar through it, hearing it clatter against the ground on the other side.

Turning to Phoenix, I gave him a nod and we began pushing the cart through. Once we both stood on the other side of the gaping hole, we pushed and pulled the cart as fast as we could to the pickup. Afterward, we shoved crates into the bed as if we had practiced doing it a thousand times.

With everything loaded, we climbed into the cab of the pickup, the engine roaring to life with the twist of a key. The rumble of the truck accompanies the music in my head---but it wasn't the triumphant anthem of a successful heist. The night had changed, and with it, so had we. The Serpents' stash was ours, but at what cost?

Within seconds we were speeding away, the wind through the lowered windows biting at our faces. The words of the song took on a new meaning. "Blue on black, blue on black, blue on black..." It was the color of the night, the color of our deeds. And somewhere in the distance, the sirens wailed, a chorus to our getaway tune, a promise of the chaos to come.

Phoenix sat silent beside me, his eyes steely. We didn't speak, but I wouldn't have heard him if he had. The song in my head had turned into a thunderous countdown, each beat bringing us closer to the moment when the Serpents would realize what had been taken from them.

Phoenix and I finally arrived at the drop-off point, an abandoned lot where the neon lights of the city threw jagged shadows across the cracked asphalt, we unloaded the crates with trembling hands. The gravity of our actions finally sinking in.

Afterward, Phoenix turned to me, his face a mask of determination. "Tell them it was me," he ordered, his voice firm. "Tell them I did it."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, staring at him, not quite understanding.

He paused, the weight of his words heavy in the air. "The Serpents' kid, he's dead because of us. If they know it was a setup, it'll be a war. Tell them I took the shipment. Tell them I did it for the thrill, for the power. It's the only way to keep the peace."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the truth in his eyes silenced me. He was the president's son, the heir to the gang's throne. If he took the blame, it could prevent an all-out war---but it would also mean his exile, his life forever changed.

"Are you sure?" I whispered, my face draining of color.

Phoenix nodded, his face grim. "It's the only way, Crow. You know it as well as I do."

I swallowed hard, the unfolding scene bitter medicine to swallow. The night had gone from a thrilling heist to a tragic turn of events; we were standing on the precipice of a decision that would define us.

With my heart heavy, I agreed.

"We'll tell them it was a rogue operation, a betrayal from within and I'll take the fall, be the scapegoat.

PRESENT DAY

The days following the heist had been a blur of whispers and accusations, the air thick with tension. The Serpents had been out for blood, and we'd treaded lightly. Phoenix's confession had bought us a temporary reprieve, but the storm clouds still gathered, dark and ominous.

Phoenix's and my friendship had taken a hit; the bond we'd forged in the flames of rebellion had become marred by the shadow of our lie.

Phoenix had shouldered the blame, his eyes haunted every time we met. The president, his father, had taken it hard, his proud face becoming etched with disappointment and anger---but the peace we'd sought with the lie, held.

Time passed, and the nights had grown colder, the moon becoming a distant sentinel that bore witness to my and Phoenix's secret meetings. We'd sit on the rooftop of the gang's hideout, the city sprawling out before us.

After a time, Phoenix's face became a mask of stoic acceptance, but the weight of our shared secret continued to weigh heavy on my conscience. One night, I'd finally asked, "Why did you do it?" My voice had barely been a murmur.

Phoenix had considered my words, then, taking a drag on his cigarette, the ember casting a red glow on his features, he'd answered, "You know why, Crow." His eyes never leaving the horizon, he'd continued,"This is my destiny, to carry the burdens of the gang. And if taking the fall for this means saving lives, then so be it."

The truth of his words had been a knife to my heart, and I'd determined I wouldn't let it end like that...that I'd find a way to clear his name, to set things right. To let the Serpents know the truth, no matter the cost.

But by the time I’d figured out how, it was too late. Phoenix was dead and I had a guilt trip riding me to Hell.

~OCEANO~

The jukebox played on, the rhythm of "Outlaw s**t" pulsing through the bar like a heartbeat. I couldn't help but feel the lyrics resonate with me. Struggle was talking about not needing anyone." His words were a declaration of independence—a declaration of who I was becoming.

But the song didn't just speak to my newfound strength; it also whispered of the rebellion brewing in my heart. The chorus echoed my inner turmoil: "I was going to live my life as necessary, regardless of what society deemed correct.

Crow leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "You've got the spirit of your dad in you, Oceano; he was a Renegade…that makes you one too."

Crow's words were a warning, a gentle reminder of the line I was walking.

~~

As the day turned to night, the bar filled with the usual mix of leather and laughter---the patrons were my family, my refuge in this chaos. But the Serpents were never far, their presence a shadow that stretched over everything.

The whispers of war grew louder, the tension ratcheting. When Mel's hand found mine, squeezing tight, and I knew she felt it too; we were all bound by the same thread, pulled taut by the forces of fate and loyalty.

As the final notes of the song on the jukebox faded, the door to the bar swung open. Snake stumbled in, the very embodiment of the chaos we were trying to hold at bay.

His eyes locked on me, a challenge in his gaze and the bar went still, the air thick with the promise of trouble. It appeared the real war was about to begin.

As I stared into the eyes of the enemy, I knew that I was ready to fight for what mattered the most. For Leo, Mel, Crow, for the Renegades—for the life I'd found amongst the storm.

The tension within the bar grew, for every step Snake took towards me, his men spread out amongst the patrons like a deadly web.

I gripped the edge of the bar, my knuckles white. The Riders around the counter tensed, their eyes never leaving the invaders. But as Snake approached me, I felt something else stir within me---a reckless, fiery defiance that could only come from my father's blood.

"What's a pretty thing like you, still doing working in a place like this?" His words were a sneer, a taunt wrapped in a question.

My response was a cold smile. "Living my life," I said, my voice steady. "Living it like an outlaw."