The entire room fell silent.
Blade’s brother, Danny Voss, had been nineteen years old when Raymond took him on as an apprentice.
Danny had been talented.
Brilliant.
Full of potential.
Then he became sick.
His lungs began failing.
Blade believed Danny had been exposed to dangerous material while working in Raymond’s shop.
Danny died at twenty-one.
For nineteen years, Blade had carried that grief.
For nineteen years, he had watched Raymond’s masterpiece become a monument.
And for nineteen years, he had secretly sabotaged every mechanic who came close to fixing it.
“All sixty-five of them,” Blade admitted.
“I had a hand in every failure.”
The club voted on whether to exile him.
The vote failed.
Twenty-six against Blade.
Twenty-four in his favor.
Grief had divided the brotherhood.
Blade looked at Riley.
“Your skills might be real,” he said.
“But some legacies shouldn’t survive.”
Then he walked away.
A Daughter Earns Her Name
Riley had less than twenty-four hours.
The club was divided.
Blade was still free.
And the motorcycle remained in pieces.
But Riley did not quit.
She began calling people from her old life.
The junkyard owner who had once let her sort scrap.
The truck stop mechanic who had given her small repair jobs.
The machinist who had taught her how to read precision measurements.
One by one, they answered.
Nobody asked why.
They simply asked what she needed.
Then they went to work.
A supplier in Fresno.
A fabrication shop in Carson City.
A machinist willing to drive for hours after working all night.
The parts began arriving before sunrise.
Drift eventually sat beside Riley.
Then he said quietly, “I know who you are.”
Riley stopped working.
Drift explained that Raymond had spoken about his daughter during the final year of his life.
“He knew he had a daughter somewhere in California.”
Riley looked away.
“He used to talk about her hands,” Drift continued. “He was sure she’d have his hands.”
Riley finally told him about the initials.
RC + D.
Drift nodded.
“I was there when he put them there.”
Then he made her a promise.
“I won’t tell Stone.”
“Why?”
“Because Raymond wanted you to earn this as yourself.”
That mattered to Riley.
More than she expected.
So she returned to work.
Not as Raymond Cole’s daughter.
Not yet.
As Riley.
The Last Bolt
By evening, the engine was almost complete.
Riley had been awake for far too long.
Her hands began to shake.
For the first time, she was afraid.
Not of failure.
Of ruining her father’s work because her body could no longer keep up with her determination.
Stone found her standing beside the motorcycle.
“You need sleep.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
Riley tried to continue.
Her hands shook harder.
Then something happened that Riley had never experienced before.
The people around her refused to let her destroy herself.
Drift took the wrench from her hand.