Chapter 2: The Date That Shouldn’t Exist
Nobody moved.
The rain continued pounding against the windows of Iron Saints.
Outside, the city disappeared behind sheets of water.
Inside, every person watched Bear hold the hospital bracelet like it was something dangerous.
Because to him, it was.
The bracelet wasn’t just an object.
It was a wound.
A wound that had never closed.
Thirty years earlier, Bear had received a phone call in the middle of the night.
His younger sister Lena had been taken to the hospital after a motorcycle accident.
He remembered every detail.
The smell of the hospital hallway.
The flickering lights.
The doctor’s tired eyes.
The sentence nobody should ever hear.
She didn’t make it.
That was what they told him.
That was what he believed.
Until tonight.
Until a little girl walked into his bar carrying proof that the past might have been a lie.
Bear closed his fist around the bracelet.
“Bear: Who gave you this?””
Amara looked at him.
“My mom.””
“Bear: Your mother’s name.””
The girl looked uncomfortable.
“Amara: She said not to tell you until you saw everything.””
Bear’s jaw tightened.
“Bear: Everything?””
He glanced at the helmet.
The key.
The bracelet.
The question burning in his chest.
“Bear: There’s more?””
Amara nodded slowly.
The bikers exchanged uneasy looks.
Cole stepped closer.
“Cole: Bear, maybe we should slow down.””
Bear turned toward him.
For years, people had seen him angry.
They had seen him fight.
They had seen him stand against men twice his size.
But Cole had never seen him look afraid.
“Bear: Thirty years ago, my sister died.””
The room stayed silent.
Bear held up the bracelet.
“Bear: This was on her wrist.””
A younger biker named Devon frowned.
“Devon: Then how is it here?””
Nobody answered.
Because nobody had one.
Marcus came around from behind the bar.
He looked at Amara.
“Marcus: Little one, where did you come from tonight?””
Amara looked toward the door.
“The rain.””
Marcus sighed softly.
“That’s not what I meant.””
The girl hugged herself.
“My mom said if anything happened, I should come here.””
Bear heard the words.
“If anything happened.””
Something about them disturbed him.
“Bear: What happened?””
Amara didn’t answer.
She looked at the floor.
Bear crouched down.
His knees touched the wet wood.
For a man everyone feared, the movement surprised everyone.
“Bear: Amara.””
She looked at him.
“Bear: I need you to tell me the truth.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Amara: I am.””
A pause.
“Amara: My mom said you were the only person who would believe her.””
Bear felt his throat tighten.
“Believe what?””
The girl opened her mouth.
But before she could speak, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The entire room went dark.
Someone cursed.
A chair moved.
Then emergency lights came on, bathing the bar in a dim red glow.
Amara grabbed Bear’s sleeve.
Not his hand.
His sleeve.
Like she was afraid to touch him.
“Amara: She told me this might happen.””
Bear looked down.
“What might happen?””
The girl stared at the windows.
“Amara: That people would try to stop me.””
The room changed.
The bikers weren’t just confused anymore.
They were alert.
Bear slowly stood.
“Bear: Who are these people?””
Amara shook her head.
“I don’t know.””
“Bear: Did someone follow you here?””
The girl didn’t answer.
That was enough.
Bear looked at the entrance.
Then at the rain outside.
Nobody was there.
But someone had wanted this message delivered.
Someone had waited thirty years.
Cole walked toward the door.
“Cole: I’ll check outside.””
Bear nodded.
Then he noticed something.
Amara wasn’t looking at him anymore.
She was staring at a framed photograph hanging behind the bar.
A photograph of the original Iron Saints members.
Taken decades ago.
Bear followed her eyes.
His blood ran cold.
Because Amara wasn’t looking at the group.
She was looking at one person.
Lena.
His sister.
Young.
Smiling.
Alive.
Bear stepped closer.
“Bear: How do you know her?””
Amara whispered:
“Amara: My mom said that was the woman you lost.””
Bear stared at the photograph.
Then back at the child.
The question came out before he could stop it.
“Bear: What did your mother tell you about Lena?””
Amara’s lips trembled.
“She said…”
The girl looked down.
“She said Lena never got the chance to tell you the truth.””
Nobody breathed.
Bear’s voice became quiet.
“Bear: What truth?””
Amara reached into her pocket.
Slowly.
Carefully.
She pulled out something folded.
Not the photograph.
Not yet.
A piece of paper.
Old.
Worn.
She held it toward him.
Bear opened it.
Three words were written across the page.
Words that made his hands go numb.
Because the handwriting was familiar.
May you like
It was Lena’s handwriting.
And beneath the words was a name Bear had never expected to see again.
