Page 2 of Hammer

“No.”The word came out sharper than I intended, drawing a curious look from Levi.“We stay together.That’s non-negotiable.”

My eldest son’s face closed off, the way it always did when he disagreed but wouldn’t argue.He’d been doing it since he was twelve, when he first stepped between his father’s fist and his mother’s face.The punishment he’d taken that day had taught him that open defiance had consequences, but it hadn’t stopped him from protecting us -- he’d just learned to be smarter about it.

“I’ve got the burner phones,” he said instead, changing tactics.“One for each of us.Untraceable.And I memorized the route to the meeting point.If anything happens, if we get separated” -- his eyes locked with Levi’s --”we meet at the place we discussed.”

Chase had always been the strategist, thinking three moves ahead like a chess player.It was what had kept him alive in Piston’s household -- anticipating rage, diverting attention, creating escape routes.

“What about school records?”Levi asked his brother, his voice cracking slightly.“What if they trace --”

“They won’t,” Chase cut him off, glancing at me apologetically.“Sorry, Mom.But I handled it.Don’t ask me how.You don’t want to know.”

The grim set of his mouth told me I probably didn’t want details.Despite his age, my son had already learned to navigate systems designed to track and trap.He’d had documents falsified, created distractions, probably broken laws I didn’t want to contemplate.All to keep us safe.

“The Devil’s Boneyard contact,” he continued, addressing us both now.“I checked him out as best I could.Scratch has a reputation for helping women get clear of abusive situations.But reputation doesn’t mean shit in the MC world.”He dragged a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of uncertainty.“We’re trusting our lives to a stranger who runs with a different pack of wolves than Dad.That’s all.”

His honesty was both terrifying and necessary.Chase never sugar-coated reality -- not since the day at fourteen he’d found me unconscious in our bathroom and had to decide whether to call an ambulance and risk his father’s wrath or try to handle it himself.He’d chosen the former, and we’d all paid the price.

“I’ve been saving,” he admitted quietly, pulling a worn envelope from his jacket.“Working at the garage, skimming from Dad’s poker winnings when he was too drunk to count straight.It’s not much, but it’ll help.”

He pressed the envelope into my hands, and I felt the thickness of what had to be hundreds of dollars.Money earned from oil changes and tire rotations, stolen in increments small enough to avoid detection, saved for this exact moment.

“I should have gotten us out sooner,” I whispered, the weight of the envelope nothing compared to the weight of my failure.

Chase’s eyes met mine, and I saw reflected there not accusation but a bone-deep weariness.“We’re getting out now,” he said simply.“That’s what matters.”He straightened up, resuming his guard position as the couple with the dog disappeared around a curve in the shoreline.My son, the sentry, the protector, the strategist.My boy who’d never had the chance to be just a child.

Chase and Levi exchanged a look that spoke volumes, the silent communication of brothers who had weathered storms together.Despite their one-year age gap, they moved in tandem, anticipating each other’s thoughts in a way that only came from shared trauma.I watched as Chase passed Levi a water bottle without being asked, and how Levi automatically shifted to make room when his brother finally sat back down beside us on the sand.

“We should head back to the car soon,” Chase murmured, his voice low.“Being in one place too long isn’t smart.”

Levi nodded but made no move to get up.Instead, he pulled his knees to his chest and leaned almost imperceptibly against his brother’s shoulder.For a brief moment, Chase’s vigilant expression softened, and he allowed the contact.

These quiet moments of connection between them were rare and precious.Chase had learned to keep physical affection to a minimum -- displays of emotion had been dangerous in our household, seen as weakness by Piston and targeted accordingly.But with Levi, especially when we were alone and far from their father’s watchful eye, he allowed these small gestures of brotherhood.

“The contact should respond by morning,” Levi said, his eyes on the darkening horizon.“Scratch has a ninety-eight percent response rate according to the forums.”

Chase snorted softly.“Forums can be faked, Lev.Especially when it comes to this sort of thing.I find it odd there’s even a forum at all.”

“Not these.I checked IP addresses, cross-referenced testimonials, verified identities through social media footprints.”Levi pushed his glasses up with one finger, a gesture that made him look even younger than his fifteen years.“They’re legitimate.”

“Computer shit doesn’t mean anything in the real world,” Chase countered, though there was no heat in his words.“These are bikers, not tech support.”

I watched the familiar dynamic unfold -- Chase, practical and street-smart, grounded in harsh realities; and Levi, analytical and tech-savvy, navigating the world through information and systems.Two sides of the same coin, both trying to survive in their own way.

“The Devil’s Boneyard has successfully extracted eighty-three women and children from situations like ours in the past two years,” Levi continued, unfazed by his brother’s skepticism.“They have a network that spans --”

“I know what they have,” Chase interrupted, his voice gentler than his words.“I’m just saying we need contingencies that don’t rely on the goodwill of strangers.”

Levi’s shoulders tensed, and for a moment I thought he might withdraw into himself, as he often did when stressed.Instead, he turned to face his brother directly.“Not everyone is like him, Chase.”

The tension between them crackled in the salt-heavy air.This was an old argument -- Chase’s deep-seated distrust of everyone versus Levi’s desperate need to believe in something beyond our toxic family unit.Both perspectives shaped by the same abusive household but manifesting in opposite directions.

“I know that,” Chase finally conceded, running a hand through his hair.“But until we’re clear, we trust no one completely.Deal?”

Levi hesitated, then nodded.“Deal.”

I watched my sons with a mixture of pride and heartache.They shouldn’t have had to become this -- one a hyper-vigilant guardian, the other a strategic escape artist.They should have been arguing about video games or girls or whose turn it was to take out the trash.Normal teenage concerns, not survival strategies.

“Your brother has a point, Levi,” I said gently.“The Devil’s Boneyard might be our best shot, but Chase is right about having backups.”

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