Ethan kept his voice calm.
“I've found several things.”
“You know who built it?”
“Yes.”
Rex looked at him.
“Victor.”
Ethan nodded.
Rex's eyes narrowed.
“You're his son.”
Again, not a question.
“Yes.”
Silence.
“You look like him.”
Ethan didn't respond.
Rex turned toward the engine.
“Then you should stop.”
“Why?”
“The vote is tonight.”
“What happens?”
“We scrap the bike.”
Ethan stood.
“You're going to destroy your friend's life's work?”
Rex's jaw tightened.
“You don't know anything about Victor.”
“Then tell me.”
Rex's eyes flashed.
“That isn't your business.”
“My father built this motorcycle.”
“He also destroyed lives.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“Your brother.”
Rex froze.
“Danny.”
The two men behind Rex looked at him.
Rex's voice became colder.
“Don't speak his name.”
“I found something.”
Ethan pulled a page from his notebook.
“I copied this from the blueprint.”
Rex hesitated.
Then took it.
He read.
His face changed.
The note wasn't mechanical.
It was personal.
Victor's handwriting.
A confession.
He had blamed himself for Danny's death.
He had never said it aloud.
Instead, he had written it inside the machine.
Rex read it twice.
Then again.
His hand began to tremble.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
Rex looked at Ethan.
“He knew he was responsible.”
“No,” Ethan said. “He believed he was responsible.”
Rex's eyes filled with anger.
“What's the difference?”
“Everything.”
Rex stared at him.
Ethan continued.
“You wanted Victor to be guilty because guilt gave Danny's death a shape.”
Rex said nothing.
“You needed someone to blame.”
Rex looked away.
“My brother was twenty-four.”
“I know.”
“He trusted Victor.”
“I know.”
“Victor told him the road was safe.”
Ethan shook his head.
“No.”
Rex looked back.
“You weren't there.”
“No.”
“But my father was.”
Ethan pointed toward the motorcycle.
“And he spent twenty years trying to carry it.”
Rex looked at the engine.
“You think you understand him?”
“No.”
Ethan's voice softened.
“I think I'm finally starting to.”
Rex's face collapsed for half a second.
Then the anger returned.
“You have no idea what twenty years feels like.”
Ethan looked directly into his eyes.
“Neither do you.”
Rex stiffened.
“Because twenty years of anger isn't the same thing as twenty years of grief.”
Silence.
Rex looked down at the paper.
Eight years of sabotage.
Eight years of breaking the motorcycle.
Eight years of preventing anyone from completing Victor's work.
Not because Rex hated the machine.
Because he hated what it represented.
Victor.
Danny.
His own failure to let go.
Rex slowly folded the paper.
“I have to go.”
Ethan watched him.
“Why?”
“The vote.”
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“How long?”
“For what?”
“To finish.”
Ethan looked at the engine.
“Two hours.”
Rex nodded.
“I'll delay it.”
Then he left.
Ethan returned to work.
But he knew the real fight had only begun.
The Sabotage
At 5:15 that afternoon, Tank knocked on the door.
“Ethan.”
“Yeah?”
“Six captains are with Rex.”
Ethan continued working.
“For what?”
“The vote.”
“They want the bike destroyed.”
Ethan tightened a valve.
“How long?”
“Three hours.”
Ethan glanced at the clock.
He had completed nearly seventy percent of the calibration.
The remaining work was the hardest.
Tank spoke again.
“You sure you can do this?”
Ethan didn't look up.
“No.”
Tank frowned.
Ethan smiled faintly.
“But I'm going to.”
Tank was silent.
Then:
“Joker believes in you.”
Ethan finally looked toward the door.
“Tell him thanks.”
Tank walked away.
Ethan worked.
The engine began to come together.
Each component had to be installed according to Victor's design.
But then Ethan found something worse.
A hairline crack.
A perfect line beneath the surface of a component.
Someone had scored it deliberately.
The part would work.
Until maximum stress.
Then it would fail.
The engine would destroy itself.
Ethan stared at it.
He understood.
This wasn't just sabotage.
Someone wanted the final repair to fail publicly.
They wanted the club to believe Ethan had killed the motorcycle.
He placed the damaged part in his pocket.
Then he heard footsteps.
The door opened.
Rex entered.
“You should stop.”
Ethan didn't.
“The vote is happening.”
“Why are you here?”
Rex looked at him.
“I don't want to watch Victor's son waste his last hours.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
Rex remained silent.
Ethan stood.
“You sabotaged this motorcycle.”
Rex looked away.
“I did.”
The admission was quiet.
Almost unbearable.
“Why?”
“Because every time someone tried to fix it, I remembered Danny.”
Ethan waited.
Rex's voice cracked.
“I needed Victor to be wrong.”
“You already knew he wasn't.”
“Yes.”
“Then why?”
Rex swallowed.
“Because anger was easier.”