Victor narrowed his eyes.

"You really want to interfere in this?"

Hank's voice dropped.

"You walked into my town, followed a nineteen-year-old kid who returned my wallet, and sent two men toward him."

He took another step.

"That was your mistake."

Victor's confidence slipped.

Ethan suddenly spoke.

"He doesn't want the flash drive."

Everyone turned.

Victor's eyes changed.

Ethan stared at him.

"He wants me."

Silence.

Hank looked down.

"What does that mean?"

Ethan's breathing became uneven.

Victor immediately said, "The boy is confused."

"No."

Ethan stepped away from the booth.

His hands trembled.

"I remembered something."

Victor's face hardened.

"Don't."

Ethan looked directly at him.

"Three years ago."

Hank watched.

"I was working part-time at a warehouse outside Fairmont."

Victor's jaw tightened.

Ethan continued.

"I saw trucks arriving after midnight."

Victor whispered, "Stop talking."

"I saw people being moved through the back loading docks."

Cole frowned.

"What people?"

Ethan's eyes filled with fear.

"People who weren't supposed to be there."

Victor's guards moved.

The Iron Guardians moved faster.

Chairs crashed backward.

Hank stepped between Ethan and Victor.

Victor looked at the biker.

Then at the diner.

Then back at Ethan.

"You have no idea what you're involving yourself in."

Hank's eyes became ice.

"Neither do you."

Victor slowly backed away.

"This isn't over."

Hank didn't move.

"It is for tonight."

Victor turned toward the door.

But before leaving, he looked directly at Ethan.

And smiled.

That smile was worse than any threat.

"We found you once."

The bell above the diner door jingled.

Victor disappeared into the night.

Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Then Hank turned around.

Ethan was gone.

Only the back door swung slowly in the wind.

And beside his abandoned milkshake was a folded piece of paper.

Hank opened it.

Four words were written inside.

Don't let him find me.

Chapter 3: The Protection of the Iron Guardians

Hank found Ethan two miles away.

Not because Ethan wanted to be found.

Because Hank had spent thirty years riding through every back road in the county.

He knew where a scared person would go.

He knew the abandoned railway bridge.

He knew the old service station.

And he knew the dark alley behind the closed hardware store where Ethan sat with his back against a brick wall.

The kid was holding his backpack against his chest.

Like it contained his entire life.

Hank parked his motorcycle.

He did not approach immediately.

Instead, he sat on the curb.

For a while, neither spoke.

Finally Ethan said, "You shouldn't have followed me."

Hank nodded.

"Probably not."

"You don't know what you're getting into."

"Probably not."

Ethan looked at him.

"Do you always answer like that?"

"No."

"Then why are you now?"

"Because you keep asking questions with answers I don't have."

Ethan looked away.

The rain had stopped.

Water dripped from the rooftops.

"I didn't steal anything."

"I know."

"I didn't take the flash drive."

"I know."

"But Victor thinks I did."

Hank nodded.

"And why does Victor think that?"

Ethan remained silent.

Hank waited.

Eventually, Ethan sighed.

"Because I was there."

"At the warehouse?"

"Yes."

Ethan pulled his knees toward his chest.

"I wasn't supposed to be."

He explained everything.

Three years earlier, when he was sixteen, he had been doing odd jobs to avoid returning to a foster home. One night, he took work cleaning an office at a Hale Industries warehouse.

He stayed late.

Too late.

And he saw things.

Unmarked trucks.

Men with no uniforms.

Locked containers.

People being moved under blankets.

When one of the containers opened, Ethan saw a terrified woman inside.

Then another.

And another.

He ran.

Someone chased him.

He hid beneath a loading platform until morning.

Afterward, he told nobody.

Who would believe a sixteen-year-old foster kid?

Then, two days ago, while searching for food behind a gas station, Ethan found Hank's wallet.

At the same time, he saw Victor's sedan.

Victor had seen him.

Recognized him.

And somehow believed Ethan still had evidence.

"But I don't," Ethan said.

Hank studied him.

"You said you remembered something."

Ethan nodded slowly.

"I did take something that night."

Hank waited.

Ethan unzipped the backpack.

At the very bottom was a false lining.

He tore it open.

Inside was a tiny memory card.

Cole, who had silently arrived moments earlier with two other bikers, cursed under his breath.

"You've had that for three years?"

Ethan stared at it.

"I forgot."

"Forgot?"

"I was sixteen and terrified."

He looked ashamed.

"I shoved it in there and told myself I'd throw it away."

"But you didn't."

"No."

Hank took the card.

"What's on it?"

"I don't know."

They returned to Maggie's Diner after closing.

Maggie locked the doors.

Cole brought an old laptop from his motorcycle.

The memory card loaded.

Everyone gathered around.

There were videos.

Dozens of them.

At first, blurry footage of trucks.

Then warehouse numbers.

License plates.

Faces.

Victor Hale appeared repeatedly.

But the final video changed everything.

The camera had accidentally captured a conversation between Victor and another man.

The second man was not a Hale employee.

He wore a sheriff's department uniform.

Cole went silent.

Hank leaned closer.

The badge became visible.

Deputy Raymond Sutter.

The same deputy who had spent years investigating missing persons cases around the county.

Maggie whispered, "Oh my God."

The video showed Victor handing the deputy a thick envelope.

The deputy took it.

Then both men entered the warehouse.

Hank shut the laptop.

The room was silent.

Ethan stared at the floor.