Chapter 3 — The Men Who Made the Wrong Choice
Three black SUVs rolled to a stop outside the bar.
Their engines died together.
The doors opened.
Six armed men stepped onto the gravel.
None of them wore gang colors.
None of them looked nervous.
Their leader pushed open the bar door with deliberate confidence.
"We're taking the kid."
No one answered.
Jax stood slowly.
Six-foot-four.
Nearly three hundred pounds.
His shadow stretched across the wooden floor.
"I don't think so."
The man smiled.
"Move."
Jax didn't.
The stranger sighed.
"You have no idea who you're protecting."
Jax's eyes never left him.
"I know exactly whose son he claims to be."
For the first time, uncertainty crossed the man's face.
He looked past Jax toward the boy.
"So..."
"He really made it here."
The sentence chilled everyone inside.
The leader reached into his jacket.
Every biker's finger tightened on the trigger.
Instead of drawing a gun, the man produced a sealed black envelope.
"For Mr. Wick."
He tossed it onto the nearest table.
"If the child survives until sunrise..."
"...tell his father we found him first."
The men walked away without another word.
The SUVs disappeared into the afternoon.
Nobody chased them.
Nobody celebrated.
Because everyone understood the message.
May you like
This wasn't over.
It had only begun.
