Chapter 3 - The Monster in the MirrorThe man in the trench coat went completely still, his eyes boring into the old photograph in the girl's hand. Because now, this was no longer a routine asset retrieval. This was about something else—an ancient debt from a bloody era.
The biker looked back up, locking eyes with him. “You knew her,” he said.
The man didn’t answer. He didn’t need to; the truth was written in the tense air of the dirty diner.
“Where is she?” the biker demanded.
The girl looked up at him, her eyes brimming with a profound, agonizing pain. “She said you’d ask that,” she whispered. A agonizingly long pause stretched out. “And she said… you wouldn’t like the answer. She’s gone, Lucas. They found her.”
A deathly silence filled the diner. Because suddenly, this wasn’t about protecting a frightened stranger. It was about a brutal past he had run from, a life he had forsaken and paid for in blood. The ghosts had come back to find him.
The biker looked at the door. Outside, the rain was coming down harder now, lashing violently against the glass pane. Then he looked back at the man.
“Not today,” he said.
The man tilted his head slightly, a malicious, mocking glint in his eyes. “You think this ends here, Lucas? You think hiding in this miserable border town for ten years washes the blood off your hands?”
The biker didn’t answer. Because he already knew the truth. It never ended.
The girl held onto his arm tighter, her entire body trembling. And just as the moment stretched to its absolute breaking point—just before an invisible wire snapped and gunfire erupted—the man in the coat spoke again.
But this time, he didn’t call her name. He said something else. He looked straight into the biker’s eyes and let out a sick, twisted smile:
“Her mother didn't tell you to protect her from me. She knew I was just a messenger. She told you to protect her from you. The curse of the project… it’s running through her veins, brother.”
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Those words made the biker's face change completely. The blood in his veins turned to ice. The emblem thonged to his back felt like it was burning red-hot, searing into his flesh.
And for the first time in his life—he wasn't sure who he was protecting her from. The man in the trench coat, or the cursed bloodline and the monster waking up inside himself.
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