Chapter Three - Eve
1193 Words
I should have left.
Any sane person would have.
I sat behind the wheel of Dad's old pickup truck with the engine running and my
hands locked around it so tightly my fingers hurt. Rain beat against the windshield in
steady waves, turning the world outside into a blur of gray and black.
The gates of Iron Crown Motorcycle Club were still visible through the downpour.
A rusted iron arch.
A skull wearing a crown.
A place I had spent four hours driving towards because the only man I had ever called
my father had asked one thing of me before he died.
Take the letter to Silas Mercer.
I looked down at the envelope resting in my lap.
The edges were damp from the rain, but the seal was still intact.
I had done exactly what Dad told me to do.
And somehow, I had still failed.
I could still hear the biker's voice.
Go home.
Cold. Dismissive. Certain that I didn't belong there.
Maybe he was right.
Maybe this whole trip had been a mistake.
Maybe Thomas Cross had spent twenty years protecting me from a truth that should
have stayed buried.
A knock on the passenger-side window made me jump.
I turned, my heart hammering.
A woman stood outside holding a black umbrella over her head. She looked to be
around my age, with dark hair tucked beneath a knitted hat and a leather jacket
hanging over one shoulder.
I lowered the window an inch.
"Can I help you?"
She smiled a little.
"I think I should be asking you that."
I didn't answer.
She glanced towards the clubhouse and then back at me.
"My brother can be a jerk."
I blinked.
"Your brother?"
"The grumpy six-foot tall one with the permanent bad attitude."
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
Almost.
"I don't think he likes me very much."
She snorted.
"He doesn't like anybody very much."
The joke should have made me feel better, but it didn't.
I looked back down at the envelope.
"He said, Your father isn't seeing visitors."
The woman's expression changed.
"Our father." She paused. "And he's right. Dad's been really sick."
I swallowed.
"I didn't know."
"I know."
She looked at me carefully, like she was trying to solve a puzzle.
"You said your father told you to come here?"
I nodded.
"He died three days ago."
The words felt strange every time I said them out loud.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
I stared through the windshield.
"He left me this letter. He said I had to give it to Silas Mercer personally."
She glanced at the envelope.
"What does it say?"
"I don't know."
"You didn't open it?"
I shook my head.
"It's not mine."
The woman looked genuinely surprised.
Most people probably would have opened it the second they found it.
Maybe I should have.
Maybe then I would know why I was standing in the rain outside a biker clubhouse
talking to a stranger.
She shifted her umbrella and held out her hand.
"I'm Danielle. Everybody calls me Dani."
"Eve."
"It's nice to meet you, Eve."
I wasn't sure I could say the same.
Not because of her.
Because of where we were.
Because the moment I stepped onto this property, my life started feeling like it
belonged to someone else.
Dani glanced back towards the clubhouse.
"If it were up to me, I'd take you inside."
"But it isn't."
A guilty look crossed her face.
"My brother's been carrying a lot lately."
"He doesn't know me."
"No," she looked down at the gravel. "But he thinks it's his job to protect
everybody."
I looked towards the clubhouse.
The man she called her brother was standing near the garage, talking to a group of
bikers.
Even from a distance, he looked angry.
Or maybe sad.
It was hard to tell.
The strange thing was, I wasn't angry with him.
I probably should have been.
He had looked at me like I was a criminal.
Like I had shown up to take advantage of a dying old man.
But there had been something in his eyes when I mentioned my father.
A flicker of recognition.
Or maybe fear.
I looked away before he could catch me staring.
"I should go."
Dani frowned.
"Eve—"
"It's okay."
"No, it's not."
I forced a smile that I didn't feel.
"My dad spent my whole life telling me there was one person who could answer my
questions. If your brother says that person can't see me..." I shrugged. "I guess I have
my answer."
She looked like she wanted to argue.
Before she could, the front door to the clubhouse burst open.
An older man I hadn't seen before came running down the porch steps.
He was wearing a leather cut with an Iron Crown patch, but unlike the others, his
face had gone completely pale.
He wasn't looking at Dani.
He wasn't looking at the men in the yard.
He was looking directly at me.
"Where is she?" he shouted.
The entire yard fell silent.
The older biker hurried across the gravel so quickly he almost slipped. He stopped
only a few feet away from my truck, breathing hard.
His eyes dropped to the envelope in my hands.
Then they moved to the silver pendant hanging around my neck.
The color drained from his face.
"No..." he whispered.
I stared at him.
"Excuse me?"
He took another step forward.
"Where did you get that pendant?"
My hand instinctively closed around it.
"It was my mother's."
His eyes filled with something I couldn't understand.
Relief.
Shock.
Guilt.
He looked over his shoulder towards the clubhouse.
"Get the president," he yelled.
Dani's expression changed instantly.
"Cal, what is it?"
"Get. Him. Now."
The biker named Cal turned back to me.
"What did you say your name was?"
"Evelyn Cross."
His entire body went still.
For a moment, I thought he might pass out.
Then he looked at me the way people look at ghosts.
"You need to leave," he said quietly.
I frowned.
"What?"
"You should never have come here."
A chill ran down my spine.
"My father told me to find Silas Mercer."
Cal looked as though I had punched him.
"He told you that?"
I nodded.
His gaze drifted to the envelope again.
"Does... does he know you're here?"
I didn't understand the question.
"My father died."
Cal closed his eyes.
A long, shaky breath escaped him.
"Oh, God."
The clubhouse door opened again.
Every biker in the yard turned towards it.
An older man stepped outside, moving slowly, one hand gripping a cane.
Even from across the gravel lot, I could see the illness etched into his face. He looked
tired. Frail.
But the second his eyes landed on me, something changed.
The cane slipped from his hand.
He took one unsteady step forward.
Then another.
His gaze locked onto the pendant around my neck.
Tears filled his eyes.
The entire yard stood frozen as the old man whispered two words that made my
heart stop.
"Charlotte's girl."
I didn't know who Charlotte was.
But somehow...
He knew exactly who I was.
- Writer
