Jax’s POV
The bonfire was down to coals, hissing and spitting like a tired beast. Tyler’s (‘very short’) welcome-home party was winding down. The boys were slapped out, most of 'em half in the bag, stories of the old days and the recent fight with the Vipers told and retold until they lost their shape. Empty cans of cheap beer and the sharper smell of good bourbon littered the ground around the old truck tires we used for seats.
Everyone was happy. Hell, I was happy. Tyler was my brother, not by blood but by every scar and mile that counts. When he went missing after that ugly lead-swap with the Vipers two months back, we thought we’d be burying an empty box. Finding him half-dead but breathing in some rat-hole clinic three towns over… it was a miracle. The kind you don’t question too l
