The roar of Ash’s motorcycle echoed through the desert stretch leading to the Highway Demons’ compound, the familiar rattle of the exhaust like a ghost of the past calling him home. Dust kicked up in his wake, sunlight bouncing off the chrome of his bike as the gates loomed ahead.
He slowed when he saw two guards on duty — Flint and RT — who had both frozen mid-smoke at the sight of him.
“Holy s**t,” RT muttered, stubbing his cigarette. “You’re actually alive.”
Ash smirked faintly under his helmet, exhaustion pulling at his features. “Missed me that much?”
Flint laughed, shaking his head as the heavy gate creaked open. “Devil’s gonna lose his mind. You picked one hell of a day to crawl back.”
The compound looked the same as when he’d left—half chaos, half home. Bikes lined up under th
