Page 10 of King’s Reckoning (Blind Jacks MC #5)

The memorial park was quiet in the pre-dawn hours, its stone monuments casting long shadows across the manicured grounds. Rowan studied the layout from their position behind a cluster of trees, comparing it to the diagram in her mother's journal. King and Reed waited beside her, their breath fogging in the cool morning air.

"No sign of Devils or Blackwood's people,"

Reed said quietly, lowering his binoculars.

"Place looks deserted."

"Too deserted,"

King muttered.

"Darkness reported their vehicles leaving the eastern graveyard an hour ago. They should have been here by now."

Rowan traced the path on her mother's diagram, focusing on the small chapel at the center of the memorial grounds.

"The notes say the next piece is beneath the memorial stone in the veterans' section. Something about a dedication to the 'forgotten guardians.'"

"I know it,"

King said.

"Stone marker for soldiers with no known graves. Been there since the park was established in the '50s."

They moved cautiously through the park, senses alert for any sign of watchers. The veterans' section was a simple, dignified area with rows of small stone markers with flags placed at regular intervals reminiscent of Arlington National Cemetery. At its center stood a larger monument, a granite obelisk inscribed with names and dates spanning multiple conflicts.

"This is it,"

Rowan said, kneeling beside the monument. She ran her fingers along the base.

"There should be a mechanism, similar to the church crypt."

Reed kept watch while King helped her search. The stone was cold beneath her fingers as she traced the patterns described in her mother's journal. Nothing happened.

"Something's wrong,"

she murmured, checking the diagrams again.

"This should work."

King's expression darkened.

"Unless someone else got here first."

The thought sent a chill through Rowan.

"But there's no sign of disturbance. No digging, no tool marks."

Reed joined them, his dark eyes scanning the surrounding area.

"Maybe they knew something we don't. A different way in."

Rowan studied the monument more carefully, noting the names inscribed on its surface. Most were conventional military ranks and units, but one caught her eye—a designation she didn't recognize, followed by a small symbol that matched one from her mother's journal.

"Here,"

she said, pointing.

"This isn't a military unit. It's a code."

She pressed her palm against the symbol, and a soft click resonated from inside the monument.

A small compartment opened at the base, revealing not a box like they expected, but a leather-bound journal, its edges worn with age. Rowan carefully lifted it out, recognizing the handwriting on the first page.

"Flash,"

King said softly, looking over her shoulder.

"This is his journal."

Rowan flipped through the pages, finding diagrams similar to those in her mother's notes, but with additional information—maps of tunnel systems, coordinates of locations they hadn't yet explored, and most importantly, detailed observations about artifacts found beneath the club's territory.

"He was documenting everything,"

she said.

"And he knew someone was after this information."

She pointed to an entry dated just weeks before his death: They're watching us now. B's people getting closer. E says we need to split up what we found, hide it where only the right people can find it.

"E is Elena,"

King said.

"Your mother was working with Flash all along."

"And B must be Blackwood,"

Reed added.

"He's been after this for decades."

The sound of approaching vehicles broke the pre-dawn silence. Reed tensed, moving to a position where he could see the park entrance.

"Two SUVs,"

he reported.

"Blacked out, no markings. Professional."

"Blackwood's team,"

King said.

"We need to move. Now."

Rowan carefully tucked Flash's journal into her jacket.

"They're following us somehow. Tracking our movements."

Reed's expression was grim.

"Or someone's feeding them information."

The implication hung in the air as they retreated through the park, using the monuments for cover. They reached their bikes without incident, but Rowan couldn't shake the feeling that they were being allowed to escape—that Blackwood's people could have intercepted them but chose not to.

"Why didn't they engage?"

she asked as they prepared to leave.

"They had to know we were here."

"Maybe they already found what they were looking for,"

King suggested.

"Or maybe,"

Reed said, his voice low.

"they wanted us to find Flash's journal. To lead them to something bigger."

The ride back to the clubhouse was tense, each of them lost in thought. Rowan kept one hand pressed against her jacket, feeling the journal's outline against her ribs. Whatever secrets it contained, Flash had thought them worth dying for. Worth hiding from people who would kill to possess them.

“Ryder sends his support,” Tiffany said, checking her phone as everyone reconvened at the clubhouse. “He's home with the kids tonight but says to call if we need extra hands.'” Though he remained committed to the club, Ryder had found a balance that allowed him to prioritize his growing family while still being there when it truly mattered

Barbara and Abby were waiting with news of their own.

"The box you recovered from the church,"

Barbara said, excitement filling her voice.

"I've been analyzing its composition. It's not just an artifact. It's a container designed to preserve something specific."

"The box itself isn't what matters,"

Abby added.

"It's what Flash and Elena put inside it. Historical records, evidence of something that predates all known settlements in this region."

Rowan placed Flash's journal on the table.

"And this might tell us exactly what that evidence is."

They gathered around as she carefully opened the journal to its later entries. Flash's handwriting grew more urgent in these pages, his normally methodical notes becoming hurried, almost frantic.

E confirmed it today. The tunnels beneath the clubhouse connect to a larger system—chambers that cannot be natural formations. The artifacts we found show evidence of metallurgical techniques that shouldn't have existed in this region for thousands of years. Someone was here before. Someone advanced. And powerful interests don't want that information made public.

"That's why they're after The Archive,"

Rowan said.

"Not just for what it is, but for what it proves."

"History being rewritten."

Barbara nodded.

"Archaeological evidence that challenges established timelines. That kind of discovery could overturn centuries of academic consensus. And certain interests would find that...inconvenient."

"Inconvenient enough to kill for?"

Reed asked.

"People have killed for far less,"

King said quietly.

Abby reached for the journal with trembling hands.

"By the time Flash and Elena understood what they'd found, who was tracking them, it was already too late to put it back."

"So they split up the evidence,"

Rowan concluded.

"Hid pieces with trusted brothers, encoded the locations, created safeguards that only people they trusted implicitly could bypass."

"Family connections,"

Abby confirmed.

"The boxes were designed with complex locking mechanisms that Elena taught only a select few how to open. Flash knew. Elena knew."

Her eyes met Rowan's.

"And she made sure you would know too."

The implication sent a chill down Rowan's spine.

"You're saying Mom chose King specifically? Because she needed someone she could trust completely?"

King's expression hardened.

"Is that true, Abby? Was I just...convenient for Elena's plans?"

The pain in his voice was raw, unexpected. Rowan felt a surge of protectiveness toward her father—this man who'd missed twenty-five years of her life, who was only now learning how deeply Elena's plans had shaped all their destinies.

"No,"

Abby said firmly.

"Elena loved you, Marcus. That was real. But she also knew that if anything happened to her, your daughter would need to be someone strong enough to finish what she started. Someone raised with both your courage and her insight. It wasn't calculation. It was foresight."

The room fell silent as King processed this. Reed moved closer to Rowan, offering silent support.

"Flash's journal has locations for the remaining pieces,"

Rowan said finally, breaking the tension.

"And something else. Coordinates for what he calls 'the source chamber.' The place where they found the original artifacts."

"Beneath the club property,"

Barbara confirmed, pulling up digital maps on her tablet.

"The energy readings I've been tracking all converge there."

"So what's our next move?"

Reed asked, looking at King.

King's eyes found Rowan's.

"Your mother spent twenty-five years preparing you for this moment. Making sure you'd have everything you needed when the time came."

His voice softened.

"What do you think we should do?"

The question caught her off guard. This was King—the formidable sergeant at arms, the man who commanded respect with a single look. And he was deferring to her.

Rowan thought about everything they'd learned. About Reed's steady presence at her side and King's newfound trust in her abilities.

"We get the remaining pieces,"

she said firmly.

"Then we find this source chamber before Blackwood does. Whatever evidence is there, whatever truth Mom and Flash died protecting, we bring it into the light."

King nodded, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

"Insurance or not, she'd be proud of you."

The words warmed something inside Rowan that had been cold for a very long time.

As the others began planning, Reed drew her aside.

"You okay with all this? Finding out your existence might have been...planned this way?"

Rowan considered the question.

"A week ago, I might have been angry. Felt used, manipulated."

She met his eyes.

"But now I understand Mom better. She wasn't calculating. She was protecting. Making sure that if anything happened to her, someone would be able to finish what she started."

"And that someone is you,"

Reed said softly.

"That someone is us,"

she corrected.

"All of us. I couldn't do this alone."

His hand found hers, a brief touch that said more than words could.

"You don't have to."

Across the room, King watched their interaction with an unreadable expression. When Reed moved away to help Barbara with the maps, he approached Rowan.

"The Road Captain,"

he said simply.

Rowan felt her cheeks warm.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

To her surprise, King shook his head.

"Reed's a good man. Loyal, smart, deadly when he needs to be."

A hint of amusement touched his eyes.

"Could do worse for your first club romance."

"It's not—"

she started to protest, then stopped herself.

"We're just figuring things out."

"Aren't we all,"

King said, his gaze drifting to where Abby sat studying Flash's journal. Something complicated passed across his face—regret, nostalgia, maybe even a hint of what might have been.

Rowan realized with sudden clarity that her parents' story wasn't as simple as she'd imagined. Elena hadn't just left to protect her daughter; she'd left to protect King too. To keep him from having to choose between his club and his family.

"She loved you,"

Rowan said quietly.

"Whatever else was going on, that part was real."

King's eyes met hers, and for a moment she saw past the hardened sergeant at arms to the man her mother had fallen in love with all those years ago.

"I know,"

he said simply.

"Just like I know you're exactly where you're supposed to be right now."

As they turned back to the planning, Rowan felt a sense of certainty settle over her. She had come looking for her father, for answers about her past. But she had found something more—a purpose that extended beyond family history, beyond club politics.

Whatever secrets lay buried beneath the club's territory, whatever evidence her mother and Flash had died protecting, she would bring it into the light. With Reed at her side and King at her back, she would finish what they started.

The Archive's truth would finally be told. And Rowan Matthews, daughter of Elena and King, was exactly the right person to tell it.