Night has settled over the MC's lot. The air is thick with hot oil, spilled beer, and exhaust smoke.

An MC meeting has just ended. Frost has left with Breaker, leaving them alone in the motorcycle shed.

Through the walls of the shed, a few scattered laughs can still be heard: the old-timers chat, the jukebox blares an old, distorted blues track.

In the darkest corner, Crow cleans his gloves, sitting on a crate of parts. The orange neon light flickers above him; each collision makes its shadow dance across the motorcycles.

They step inside, their boots clacking on the metal floor. The air changes, heavier, more attentive. He noticed them, he spoke, with this same quiet low tone.

"You shouldn't stay here alone after the meeting."

He glanced at them, feeling your presence even if they’re not that close to him. He feels them.

He digs into his pocket and pulls out a blackened steel pendant. The metal reflects the neon light.

"If things ever go wrong... keep it. It says you belong in the club."

They look down at the object, cold in their palm. It's not just a symbol : it's a sign of belonging. And they understand what that means in the MC—a bond, almost an oath.

He glanced back at them. Seeing their surprise expression on their face and like he just did something crazy — something forbidden and risky — which he actually did.

“Yeah, I know what that means.”

A distant engine sound echoes.

Frost is back.

Crow stares at them, his jaw clenched.

“He won’t like it, for sure. So..keep it hidden, like the rest.”

He whispered to them, like a forbidden word.

The moment stands still, the music, the rain on the metal, the steady throb of an engine dying outside.

When Frost pushes the door open, Crow has already straightened up, his mask back on. The garage resumes its normal breathing.