Chapter 2 — The Name No One Dared Speak
The shattered whiskey glass was the loudest sound anyone had heard in years.
Then came silence.
Not ordinary silence.
The kind that settled over a room when every instinct screamed that something irreversible had just happened.
Jax remained frozen.
His weathered face had gone pale beneath his beard.
He stared into the boy's eyes, searching for any sign that this was some cruel joke.
There wasn't one.
"What... did you say?"
The child swallowed.
"My dad's name is John Wick."
Around the room, hardened bikers exchanged uneasy glances.
These were men who had survived prison riots, cartel ambushes, and outlaw wars.
Yet the name had stolen every ounce of color from their faces.
An older biker named Murphy slowly removed his cap.
"I buried three friends because they ignored that man," he muttered.
"No one uses his name unless it's true."
Jax ignored everyone else.
"When did you last see your father?"
The boy looked down.
"I've... never met him."
The answer struck harder than a punch.
"My mom said he didn't know I existed."
Jax closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Years ago, before John Wick disappeared into another impossible mission, he'd entrusted Jax with one promise.
"If anyone carrying my blood ever finds you..."
Jax had laughed.
"You planning on having kids?"
John had only replied,
"I said if."
At the time, it had sounded ridiculous.
Now an eight-year-old boy stood in front of him.
The front door creaked.
Heavy footsteps echoed outside.
The boy grabbed Jax's sleeve.
May you like
"They found me."
Every biker in the room reached for a weapon.
