Chapter 6: The Truth Hidden Under the Floor
The house became a battlefield in seconds.
Vincent pressed his back against the wall, listening to the motorcycles outside.
Too many.
At least fifteen.
Maybe more.
Clara was beside him, shaking.
“You need to leave.””
Vincent looked at her.
“No.””
“You don’t understand.””
“I understand someone just shot at you.””
Her eyes filled with frustration.
“You don’t understand who they are.””
Vincent looked toward the window.
“I know exactly who they are.””
Elias crawled away from the broken glass.
“We need to find the evidence before they do.””
Vincent looked at him.
“You mean the evidence in that box?””
Elias nodded.
“Your father hid more than one thing.””
Vincent picked up the metal container.
Inside were dozens of papers.
Bank records.
Photographs.
Names.
The kind of information that could destroy powerful people.
Clara reached for one document.
“This.””
Vincent looked.
It was a list.
At the top was a title.
IRON WOLVES OPERATION FILE.
His stomach tightened.
Below it were names.
Some he recognized.
Some he didn’t.
Then he saw one.
Marcus Vale.
Not listed as a member.
Listed as the leader.
Before Vincent.
Clara watched his face.
“You didn’t know.””
Vincent shook his head slowly.
“No.””
“He wanted you to believe he saved the club.””
The sound of footsteps downstairs interrupted them.
Vincent closed the box.
“Stay here.””
Clara grabbed his arm.
“You can’t fight all of them.””
Vincent looked at her.
“I’m not fighting all of them.””
A faint smile appeared.
“I’m fighting the ones who forgot whose house this is.””
He walked downstairs.
The front door opened.
Marcus entered alone.
No weapon.
No anger.
Just that same calm expression Vincent had known his entire life.
“Vincent.””
The old name.
The familiar voice.
For one dangerous second, Vincent almost saw the man who taught him how to ride.
The man who sat beside him after his first fight.
The man who told him he was proud.
Then he remembered the letter.
Trust nobody wearing the Iron Wolves patch.
“You knew about Clara.””
Marcus didn’t deny it.
“Yes.””
The answer was worse than a lie.
Vincent stared.
“How long?””
“Since before you became president.””
“And you never told me.””
“No.””
“Why?””
Marcus looked around the house.
“This place destroyed your father.””
Vincent stepped forward.
“No.””
His voice hardened.
“You did.””
Marcus sighed.
“I was hoping you would never become like him.””
“Like him?””
Vincent laughed.
“My father was right about you.””
Marcus’s eyes narrowed.
“Your father was reckless.””
“He loved people.””
“He trusted the wrong people.””
Vincent pointed toward him.
“Like you.””
The silence between them was brutal.
Marcus looked older suddenly.
Not weaker.
Just exposed.
“You think you know what happened?””
“I know enough.””
“No, Vincent.””
Marcus stepped closer.
“You know pieces. Your father was not a hero.””
Vincent didn’t move.
“Then tell me.””
Marcus looked toward the stairs.
Toward Clara.
“Your father made a choice.””
“What choice?””
Marcus’s voice lowered.
“He chose her over you.””
The words hit.
Even though Vincent knew Marcus was trying to hurt him.
Even though he knew there was manipulation behind it.
A small part of him still felt that old childhood wound open.
Clara appeared at the top of the stairs.
“That’s a lie.””
Marcus looked up.
Clara’s face was pale.
“My father spent every day trying to save Vincent.””
Marcus stared at her.
“You should have stayed hidden.””
Clara walked down slowly.
“He didn’t abandon him.””
She looked at Vincent.
“He left because he knew Marcus would kill both of us.””
The house went silent.
Vincent looked between them.
“Tell me everything.””
Clara took a deep breath.
“Your father discovered Marcus was using the Iron Wolves to move illegal money. He found proof.””
She held up the documents.
“Proof that could put powerful people in prison.””
Marcus said nothing.
Clara continued.
“He planned to expose them.””
Vincent looked at Marcus.
“And you stopped him.””
Marcus’s face became unreadable.
“I tried to reason with him.””
The words were cold.
Too cold.
Vincent noticed.
“You’re not denying it.””
Marcus looked away.
That was the answer.
Suddenly, a phone rang.
Not Vincent’s.
Not Clara’s.
Marcus’s.
He answered.
A voice came through.
Vincent couldn’t hear the words.
But Marcus’s expression changed.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
He ended the call.
“What happened?”” Vincent asked.
Marcus stared at him.
Then slowly looked toward the box of evidence.
“Your father left one more thing.””
Vincent frowned.
“What?””
Marcus whispered:
“The recording of the night he died.””
Nobody spoke.
Then Marcus added:
“And if that recording is real…”
A pause.
“…you’re going to find out your father’s killer was never the person you thought.””
May you like
Outside, every motorcycle engine suddenly went silent.
And someone knocked on the front door.
