Page 19 of Piston

But as I pulled out of the lot, the burner phone seemed to pulse against my thigh, a constant reminder of the mission ahead. The unknown dangers. The sacrifices I'd have to make.

I gritted my teeth, pushing the throttle harder. There was no turning back now. The club was counting on me. My brothers were counting on me.

Failure wasn't an option.

As the miles disappeared beneath my wheels, I forced myself to focus. To plan. I'd need to go deep undercover, to become someone else entirely. Leave Piston behind and embrace a new identity, a new life.

It was a lonely path, but one I'd walked before. One I'd walk again, as many times as it took to keep the club safe. To protect the only family I'd ever known.

The road stretched out before me, an endless ribbon of asphalt. I chased it, pushing harder, faster, until the world blurred at the edges. Until there was nothing but the wind and the growl of the engine and the mission ahead.

I rode, and I didn't look back.

The clubhouse disappeared behind me as I rode, fading into the night until it was nothing more than a memory. The weight of what I was leaving behind settled heavy in my gut, but I pushed it aside. There was no room for sentimentality in this line of work.

I rode for hours, putting as much distance between myself and the city as I could. The burner phone stayed silent, but I knew it was only a matter of time before it would ring with new orders, new intel.

Finally, as the first hints of dawn began to creep over the horizon, I pulled into a nondescript motel on the outskirts of town. The kind of place where no one asked questions and cash was king.

I parked the bike around back, out of sight, and grabbed my bag from the saddlebag. The room was small, dingy, but it would do for a few hours of shut-eye before I had to move on.

I tossed the bag on the bed and dug out the burner phone, checking for missed calls or messages. Nothing yet, but I knew Mason and Dagger would be in touch soon with my next steps.

I set the phone on the nightstand and stretched out on the bed, still fully dressed. Sleep wouldn't come easy, not with the adrenaline still coursing through my veins and the weight of the mission hanging over me.

But I forced myself to close my eyes, to steady my breathing. I needed to be sharp, focused. Ready for whatever came next.

As I drifted off, my thoughts turned to Jenny. To the future I hoped we could have together, if I could just make it through this one last job.

I saw her smile, heard her laugh. Felt the warmth of her skin against mine. And for a moment, just a moment, I let myself believe that everything would work out. That I'd come back to her, whole and unscathed.

It was a fantasy, I knew. But it was all I had to hold onto as I slipped into a restless sleep, the burner phone close at hand, waiting for the call that would set everything in motion.

The call that would change my life forever, one way or another.

I stood in the middle of the room, my eyes closed, jaw clenched. Deep breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. Once, twice, three times. Focus, Piston. You got this.

The mission loomed ahead, a big fucking question mark. No idea how long I'd be gone, what I'd be walking into. All I knew was I had to keep the club safe, no matter the cost.

My mind drifted to Jenny, her smile, her touch. I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away. Can't afford distractions. Not now.

I grabbed my cut from the back of the chair, shrugging it on. The weight of the leather settled on my shoulders, a reminderof who I was, what I stood for. Piston, enforcer for the Iron Reapers. A brother, a fighter, a man with a job to do.

One last glance around the room, committing it to memory. No telling when I'd see it again. Then I stepped out, closing the door behind me with a definitive click.

The clubhouse was quiet as I made my way through the halls, my boots echoing on the hardwood. A few nods from the brothers I passed, a silent understanding in their eyes. They knew the score, knew the sacrifices we made for the patch.

Outside, the night air hit me like a slap in the face, cold and crisp. My bike waited, gleaming under the streetlights. I swung a leg over, settling into the familiar leather seat.

The engine roared to life, the vibrations thrumming through my body, grounding me in the moment. This, right here, was what I knew, what I could count on. The open road, the power between my legs, the brotherhood at my back.

I revved the engine once, twice, the sound cutting through the stillness. A final salute to the club, to the life I was leaving behind.

Then I kicked off, the tires spinning on the asphalt as I tore out of the lot. The road stretched ahead, a black ribbon disappearing into the darkness.

No looking back now. The mission was all that mattered. Find the traitor, protect the club. Everything else would have to wait.

I cranked the throttle, the wind whipping past, the night swallowing me whole. Time to disappear, to become a ghost.

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