"He's calling someone."
The Night Raid
At four o'clock, a black sedan passed the garage.
It didn't stop.
But Dean memorized the license plate.
That night, the Iron Jaws shut everything down.
The garage went dark.
The motorcycles disappeared.
Members scattered to different locations.
Gary and Lacy watched the storage facility from his truck.
"You shouldn't be here," Gary said.
"If they move the crates, we'll miss it."
Gary sighed.
"You're stubborn."
"You told me noticing things matters."
He looked at her.
"That's not permission to get yourself killed."
She smiled.
"I know."
Then headlights appeared.
The black sedan returned.
Two men stepped out.
They opened Unit 14B.
Lacy raised her camera.
"They're moving the crates."
Gary began recording.
"They're making it look like the club is transferring inventory."
Suddenly, police lights flooded the alley.
Three cruisers arrived.
Lacy's smile vanished.
"Dad..."
"I know."
"This was planned."
Inside the unit, one man ran.
The other froze.
Then Dean stepped from the shadows.
Hands raised.
Calm.
Waiting.
The officers hesitated.
They looked at the open crates.
Then at Gary's camera.
Then at the timestamps showing the men had been inside before police arrived.
One officer whispered:
"This isn't what it looks like."
Dean stared at him.
"Exactly."
By sunrise, one suspect had been detained.
His phone revealed connections to a company owned by Preston Grant.
But Preston himself remained untouched.
He had lawyers.
Money.
Influence.
And, apparently, another plan.
The Enemy in the Mirror
Lacy sat outside the storage building the next morning.
Her knees were pulled against her chest.
"They almost won."
Dean sat beside her.
"Almost doesn't count."
She looked at him.
"What if they try again?"
"They will."
She frowned.
"You're not scared?"
Dean looked toward the city.
"Of Preston?"
He shook his head.
"I'm disappointed in him."
"Why?"
"Because once upon a time, he was my brother."
Lacy was silent.
Dean continued.
"We were kids. We dreamed about building things."
"What changed?"
"Maybe he decided people were obstacles."
Lacy thought about that.
"People aren't obstacles."
"No."
Dean smiled faintly.
"They're the reason any of this matters."
Across town, Preston Grant stood inside a glass office overlooking Hawthorne.
He stared at the park below.
Soon, he thought.
Very soon.
The park would be gone.
The Iron Jaws would be gone.
And nobody would remember the little neighborhood that stood there before his buildings arrived.
His assistant entered.
"We have a problem."
Preston turned.
"What?"
"The police have the footage."
Preston's face hardened.
"Then we make sure the footage doesn't matter."
City Hall
The council chamber was packed.
Residents filled the wooden benches.
City employees stood along the walls.
Several Iron Jaws members occupied the back row.
At the front sat five council members.
Then Preston Grant entered.
Perfect suit.
Perfect smile.
Perfect confidence.
The redevelopment proposal appeared on the screen behind him.
Luxury apartments.
Clean sidewalks.
New commercial buildings.
A modern future.
But there was no Iron Jaws garage.
No Hawthorne Park.