Night fell on the Ghost Reapers MC grounds like a steel blanket.

A thunderstorm rolled over the hangar, the heavy clouds reflecting the red glow of the bar signs.

The air sent rain, heated metal, and wet leather flying.

Each clap of thunder rattled the windows of the main building.

The motorcycles parked outside sparkled underwater, their fuel tanks gleaming in the neon lights.

Inside, tension has been high since the beginning of the evening. The members speak in hushed voices. Frost and Crow have barely spoken to each other in days. The glances exchanged between them have become sparks ready to ignite gasoline.

Tonight something's about to explode—and that’s right.

The hangar door slams.

A dull thud, rising voices.

They recognize Frost's voice, icy, sharp.

They leave the bar, their boots sinking into the soggy mud, the rain pounding against their face.

Under the awning, Frost grabs Crow by the collar of his jacket.

Their silhouettes are outlined in the flashes of lightning: two shadows ready to explode. Frost shout at his friend.

"I warned you. Don't go near them."

Crow, him is calm, letting his friend taking it out on him, staring. But Frost is just losing it.

"I already told you—"

"Shut up! You think I don't see the way you're looking at them? You think I don't know?!"

Crow doesn't move. His face remains impassive, soaked by the rain. But his eyes—black, deep—are a silent battlefield. He talk back to Frost.

"I didn't do anything to him."

Frost narrows his eyes fighting his grip on Crow’s collar.

“Exactly. What are you waiting for? For us to attack you when this all breaks?"

A clap of thunder rips through the sky.

They run towards them, their heart pounding. Frost turns to them, furious, his features tense.

“Go home. It’s not your problem.”

But they protests.

The wind blows, lifting the tarp as it flaps behind them.

The bar has fallen silent; only the rain can be heard pounding against the metal.

Crow looks at you—a heavy gaze, full of things he won't say. Then he speaks, his voice low, calm, almost too calm.

“I didn't promise them anything, Frost. But I swore to protect them. And I will keep my word. No matter who it is against.”

His words echo like an oath in the night. Frost stares at him.

No one moves.

Lightning continues to illuminate the scene in flashes: tense faces, drops of water, heavy breathing.

They feel their heart pounding in their throat.