Chapter 9
1360 Words
Chloe
The day Omario came looking for Layla was a Tuesday.
Late afternoon. The kind where the sun hangs low and tired, like it’s thinking about quitting early. Heat stuck to everything. Asphalt smelled burnt. The neighborhood was quiet in that fake way—too quiet for a place that usually had kids yelling and radios blasting.
I was on my break at the bar when my phone buzzed.
You seen Layla?
It was one of our regulars, especially from Omario. That alone felt weird.
Omario, the man who adored Layla, and wanted her to give him a chance to prove himself—continued to search for her, but couldn’t. He was hamstrung. I promised to help.
By the time I got off shift, the sky was turning orange. I drove straight to Layla’s place. I didn’t even think about it. Just felt that pull in my gut that something was wrong.
That’s when I saw him.
Jax.
He was standing on the porch, big and still, like he’d grown out of the wood. Leather jacket. Boots dusty. Bike parked crooked at the curb like he didn’t care who noticed.
He looked older than the last time I saw him. Harder. Like life had chewed him up and dared him to complain.
Her dad was there too. Alone.
He was sitting at the small table by the porch, counting bills. Not a few. A whole stack. Thick. Messy. Like it came from too many places.
Jax spoke first.
“You don’t even care to know where Layla is?”
Her dad jumped like he’d been caught stealing. He looked up, eyes darting, hands freezing mid-count.
“She—uh—she left,” he said.
Jax didn’t move. “Left where?”
“She packed a bag,” he said, fast. “Said she needed space. Took off.”
That didn’t sit right.
Jax smirked and looked at the old man like he knew something that he also knew. “You said Layla took off?” he continued. “Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know?” Layla’s father said. “You broke up your friendship a long time ago. She got really tired of this town too.”
Layla didn’t run. She planned. She overthought. She told me everything—sometimes too much.
Jax stared at him, jaw tight. “That’s not like her.”
Her dad shrugged, sweaty and nervous. “People change.” He said. “And you left her, maybe she’s moved on, and son, you have to move on too.”
Jax pulled out his phone and dialed. Put it on speaker.
Straight to voicemail.
He tried again. Same thing.
Then he smiled. Not anger. Not yet.
“She wouldn’t just disappear,” he said quietly with a smirk on his face. “Old man, are you sure you don’t have anything to do with this?”
I turned to her dad. Layla always complained about her dad’s ugly thirst to gamble away everything. The hordes of cash on the small stool, him counting bills upon bills. I took a deep breathe.
Jax finally turned to me to see I was present. Right there.
“Hello, Chloe,” he said. Still cute as ever.
“Hi,” I simply said. “What’s happening here? I came to look for Layla. She’s not been around the bar for a while.” My eyes kept darting to her father who seemed to care less. He was all focused on the money.
“Layla’s fine,” he assured. “I know where she is, but she needs space.”
I smiled. As far my friend was okay, then I don’t think there was no cause for alarm. “Can you give me her number, or something,” I pressed a bit. “I’m worried for her.”
Jax smiled. “I said she needs some space, Chloe.”
“So, why come to her father to ask? Why didn’t you tell him that you knew where his daughter was?”
“You don’t need to know much,” he said. “But I had to do this. Her father is one dubious fella.”
I didn’t get that, but it got me thinking. He left, when he was done. Got straight to his bike and bade me farewell and zoomed off.
By the time he’d gone far, I’d realized I didn’t even take his number. Damn it!
******
A week later, two men walked into the bar.
And no—these weren’t biker trash or drunk tourists.
These guys were clean. Sharp. Expensive watches. Calm smiles. The kind of men who knew exactly what they were doing and never had to raise their voices.
They sat at my section.
I poured their drinks. Whiskey. Neat.
They tipped well. Too well.
One of them leaned back and said my name like we were old friends.
“That always creeps me out,” I said. “You got a reason you know who I am?”
He smiled. “We know a lot of things.”
I didn’t like that.
But I kept smiling. That’s what you do when you work bars. You smile through the weird.
“You’re close with Layla,” the other one said.
My hand tightened around the tray. “Yeah. Why?”
“She’s safe,” he said. “But she misses you.”
My heart dropped straight into my shoes.
“What?” I whispered.
“She wanted you with her,” the first one said. “Said you’re the only one she trusts.”
I stared at them. “Where is she?”
They didn’t answer right away.
Instead, one of them slid an envelope across the bar.
“Good pay,” he said. “Room. Food. Protection. All covered.”
I pushed it back. “I don’t get paid to disappear.”
The second man leaned forward. “You already do. Every night. For tips.”
That hit a nerve.
“She asked for you,” he said again, slower. “We’re just making it possible.”
I swallowed hard. “Why can’t she call me herself?”
“She can,” he said. “But this way is safer.”
Safer.
That word kept coming up in my life lately.
I went home that night and stared at my phone for hours. No missed calls. No texts.
But I knew Layla.
If she was safe and silent, it meant she was being protected—or watched.
Either way, she wouldn’t want to be alone.
The next day, I quit my job.
Didn’t even finish my shift.
Packed a bag. Left my keys on the counter. Walked out without looking back.
If this was a mistake, it was one I’d make for her.
**************
The ride out was long.
Quiet.
No talking. Just road and dust and that feeling in your chest when you know there’s no turning back.
When we finally reached the fortress, I understood why Layla stayed.
High walls. Gates. Armed guards. Bikes everywhere. Engines humming like a heartbeat.
This wasn’t a house.
This was a kingdom.
They led me inside.
And then I heard it.
“CHLOE?!”
I barely had time to turn before Layla slammed into me.
We screamed like idiots. Laughing. Crying. Hugging so tight it hurt.
“Oh my God,” she said, pulling back, hands on my face. “You came.”
“Of course I did,” I said. “You think I’d let you do this alone?”
She laughed, tears in her eyes. “I thought you’d say no.”
“I almost did,” I said. “Then I remembered who I was.”
She hugged me again, and for the first time in weeks, I felt steady.
Jax stood a few feet away, watching. Not smiling. Just making sure she was okay.
Now I understood.
This wasn’t just about hiding.
“You need to tell me all what’s going on,” I said. I needed answers immediately. “And what’s this all about?” I looked around the people staring, steely bikes at every corner.
- Writer
