“Because I recognize that cry,” he answered softly.
Madison froze.
Something in his tone carried weight beyond casual empathy, and before she could question further, the quiet third biker studied her carefully.
“You lost someone,” he observed calmly. “Not your first child.”
Madison’s breath faltered painfully.
“I had a son,” she whispered.
The older biker nodded slowly, eyes darkening.
“My name is Rex Donovan,” he said quietly. “I knew your brother.”
Madison’s world tilted violently.
Her brother Logan Blake had died two years earlier under circumstances labeled accidental overdose, though Madison had never believed the official narrative. Logan had been frightened before his death, his final call trembling with dread.
“They are going to kill me,” he had said.
Now Rex’s voice cut through memory.
“He did not die the way they claimed,” Rex stated.
Before Madison could respond, two sharply dressed men entered, their movements controlled, their smiles rehearsed.
“Madison Blake,” one announced smoothly, flashing a badge. “We need to discuss Logan.”
The badge appeared authentic, yet something felt disturbingly wrong.
“You have something that belongs to us,” the man continued coldly.
Rex stepped forward.
“Wrong place,” he warned.
Tension detonated instantly as weapons appeared, violence erupting in chaotic motion, glass shattering, screams echoing, while Madison stood frozen in disbelief. Shots thundered, bodies collided, Ivy wailed, and within seconds Rex dragged Madison toward the rear exit.
Outside, sunlight felt blinding.
“Climb,” Rex ordered, pointing toward a tall chain link fence.
“I cannot,” Madison gasped.
“You can,” Rex insisted firmly. “Mothers always do.”
Madison climbed despite pain tearing through her hands, dropping hard on gravel, while bullets sparked against metal behind them. The bikers mounted their machines swiftly, engines roaring, Ivy cradled securely against leather, and they tore away as Madison clung tightly, breath ragged, heart shattering under the weight of terror and disbelief.
Forty minutes later, they reached an abandoned warehouse hidden deep within woodland shadows. Madison collapsed forward, clutching Ivy desperately, while Rex studied her with quiet intensity.
“You still have Logan’s letter,” Rex said.
Madison’s blood ran cold.
“How do you know?” she whispered.
“Because Logan trusted you,” Rex replied.
He handed her a scratched key labeled Unit 42C.