Page 17 of King’s Reckoning (Blind Jacks MC #5)

The Devils' medical facility turned out to be a converted private hospital, its stark corridors a far cry from the ancient tunnels they'd left behind. Rowan paced the waiting room while surgeons worked on Reed, her mind racing to process everything that had happened. The adrenaline crash was making it harder to distinguish reality from fear-induced imagination.

She paused by the window, watching dawn break over unfamiliar territory. Just days ago, she'd been a prospect trying to infiltrate the club. Now she stood in a Devils' facility, surrounded by members of multiple MCs, all united by a shared history none of them had fully understood until now.

Barbara's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

"I've been analyzing the data from the artifacts,"

she said, laptop open on her knees.

"And I think... I think we've been looking at this all wrong."

"What do you mean?"

King asked. He hadn't left Rowan's side since they'd arrived, as if afraid she'd disappear like Elena had.

"These boxes everyone's fighting over?"

Barbara turned her screen to show them her analysis.

"They're old, yes. Historically significant. But they're not mystical or supernatural. They're historical records documenting land claims that predate official settlement records—evidence that could overturn centuries of property rights."

Rowan frowned, remembering her mother's careful documentation.

"But the way Mom wrote about them, how important it was that specific families protect them..."

"Political foresight,"

Barbara explained.

"Elena understood that these historical records would be targeted by powerful interests who benefit from the current property arrangements. The founding families weren't chosen by mystical forces. They were entrusted with protecting these records because they had no stake in the established power structure."

"And the tunnels?"

King pressed.

"The hidden chambers?"

"Historically significant sites, carefully preserved and hidden."

Barbara's expression was gentle.

"Elena discovered these archaeological treasures, studied them. She understood their historical importance, even if she couldn't fully grasp all their implications for modern property rights."

Rowan sank into a chair, feeling reality shift around her.

"So when my mom wrote about founding families..."

"She meant groups with historical connections to the original land claims,"

Barbara confirmed.

"Specific communities whose ancestors had documented these territories before official colonial records. The Devils, the Kings—they're all descendants of people who had reason to protect these historical truths."

"But why?"

King demanded.

"Why keep these records hidden for so long? Why not expose the truth?"

"Because the implications are staggering,"

Barbara said quietly.

"These records could invalidate billions in property values, overturn resource rights, reshape the entire power structure of the region."

Before she could elaborate, a doctor emerged from the surgical wing. Rowan was on her feet instantly, heart in her throat.

"He's stable,"

the doctor said before she could ask.

"The bullets missed his vital organs. He'll need time to recover, but he should make a full recovery."

Relief made Rowan's knees weak. King's hand on her shoulder steadied her as the doctor continued explaining Reed's condition and recovery process.

"You can see him briefly,"

the doctor finished.

"He's still groggy from anesthesia, but he's asking for you."

Moments later, Rowan found Reed pale but alert in the recovery room. The sight of him lying there, alive despite Darkness's betrayal, made her throat tight with emotion. His dark eyes found hers immediately, seeming to drink in the sight of her as though needing reassurance she was safe.

"Hey,"

he managed, voice rough. His hand reached for hers, fingers entwining with practiced familiarity.

"You look terrible."

She laughed despite herself, careful as she perched on the edge of his bed.

"You should see the other guys."

"The tunnels?"

"Collapsed."

Rowan squeezed his fingers gently.

"But Barbara saved most of her research data. She's been studying it. She thinks..."

She hesitated, then pushed forward.

"She thinks these artifacts are strictly historical records, not mystical objects. That everything that's happened can be explained through conventional history and politics."

Reed was quiet for a moment, processing.

"Makes sense,"

he said finally.

"Explains why Blackwood wants them so badly. Why corporations are involved."

"But my mom's research, all her work studying the founding families..."

"Was probably about tracking historical connections,"

Reed finished.

"Following land claim documentation through generations."

His thumb stroked her palm, the intimate gesture conveying affection beyond words.

"Doesn't make it less significant. Just more grounded in reality."

"I almost lost you,"

she said quietly, the words escaping before she could consider them.

"When Darkness fired, when you fell..."

Reed's fingers tightened around hers.

"But you didn't. I'm right here."

"Because you shielded me,"

she replied, her voice catching.

"You took bullets meant for me."

"And I'd do it again."

His eyes held hers, intense despite the pain medication.

"That's what happens when you find something worth protecting."

The simple declaration hung between them, weighted with meaning beyond the immediate situation. Rowan felt something shift inside her—understanding that what they'd built together wasn't just partnership or physical attraction. It was deeper, stronger.

"When I thought you might—"

She couldn't finish the sentence.

"I know,"

he said softly, raising her hand to press his lips against her knuckles. "I know."

Before she could respond, King appeared in the doorway. His expression sent a ripple of concern through her.

"Devils leadership is here,"

he said quietly.

"Along with representatives from other chapters. They want to talk."

Rowan squeezed Reed's hand once more, promise in the gesture.

"I'll be back soon."

"Go be spectacular,"

he murmured, a hint of his usual confidence returning.

"Then come back to me."

The Devils had converted a conference room into neutral ground, representatives from multiple MCs gathered around a long table. She recognized some faces from the tunnel confrontation—men who had been enemies just hours ago, now assembled in tense alliance.

Mason Cole, the Devils' president, stood as they entered. His cold eyes assessed her with new respect.

"Darkness told us a lot of things,"

he said without preamble.

"About Elena's research, about what's hidden in our territories. About historical records that could reshape property rights across the region."

"And now you know he was manipulating everyone,"

Rowan said.

"Playing chapters against each other while feeding intel to Blackwood."

"Yes."

Cole's expression hardened.

"But that doesn't change the fact that something valuable is hidden under our feet. Something worth killing for."

"Historical evidence,"

Barbara said from the doorway. She entered with her laptop, displaying her findings.

"Documentation that predates official colonial records, proving who really settled this territory first."

She explained her analysis as Rowan studied the gathered leaders. She saw the shift in their expressions as reality replaced mystery. Understanding replacing uncertainty.

"The founding families weren't chosen by mystical powers,"

Barbara concluded.

"They were entrusted with protecting these historical records until they could be properly presented. The MC territories, the careful documentation—it was all designed to keep this evidence safe until the right time."

"And now Blackwood wants to claim them,"

King added.

"Use them for his corporate clients' purposes."

"Which are?"

someone demanded.

"Based on the historical implications?"

Barbara shook her head.

"Control of resources. Influence over land development rights. The ability to maintain the status quo that benefits current power structures."

"Property theft legitimized by selective history,"

Rowan said quietly.

"On a massive scale."

Murmurs rippled through the gathered leaders. Cole's expression was thoughtful as he studied Rowan.

"Elena died protecting these records,"

he said.

"Died making sure no one could use this evidence to maintain control over territories that rightfully belong to others. To continue exploiting resources that should benefit different communities."

"Yes."

Rowan met his gaze steadily.

"And now Blackwood's corporate clients are trying to finish what others started generations ago. Take control of evidence that was meant to eventually come to light."

"So what do you propose?"

Rowan thought about everything they'd learned—about carefully documented historical records and meticulously preserved evidence. About a mother's determination to protect truth until it could be properly presented.

"We do what we were always meant to do,"

she said firmly.

"What the founding families intended. We protect these historical records from those who would suppress them. We work together to ensure they reach the right authorities, the right academic institutions."

"And Blackwood?"

"We show him exactly what happens when he underestimates the strength of shared purpose. Of loyalty that goes deeper than business interests."

Cole studied her for a long moment, then nodded.

"Your mother would be proud,"

he said quietly.

"She understood what was at stake better than any of us."

"She understood a lot of things,"

King added. His hand found Rowan's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Including what values needed to be protected, no matter the personal cost."

As the leaders began discussing strategy, Barbara leaned closer to Rowan.

"I've been analyzing the records we recovered,"

she said quietly.

"There's something you should see."

She discreetly showed Rowan a scanned document—a land claim dating back to before official colonial records, showing territories that now encompassed multiple MC domains.

"The original claim holders,"

Barbara explained.

"The families who truly owned this land before it was taken through manipulated records. Look at the names."

Rowan's breath caught as she recognized several surnames—including Matthews. Her mother's family.

"Elena wasn't just protecting historical records,"

Barbara continued.

"She was protecting her family's legitimate claim to territories that were stolen generations ago. Your heritage."

Understanding washed over Rowan. This wasn't just about abstract historical justice—it was personal. Elena had been fighting to reclaim what rightfully belonged to her family, to her daughter.

As the meeting continued, Rowan felt a new clarity settling over her. Her mother's careful preparation, her insistence on following specific protocols, her determination that Rowan understand the full significance of these historical records—it all made sense now.

This was her inheritance. Not mystical powers or supernatural connections, but historical truth. Evidence that could restore what had been wrongfully taken.

When the meeting concluded, plans in place for securing the remaining artifacts and coordinating joint security, Rowan immediately returned to Reed's room. She found him more alert, color returning to his face despite the bandages visible beneath his hospital gown.

"How bad was it?"

he asked as she settled beside him.

"Less dramatic than expected,"

she replied, taking his hand again.

"Multiple chapters agreeing to work together to protect the historical records. Turns out having a common enemy is quite the motivator."

Reed studied her face, seeing beyond her casual response.

"You learned something important."

It wasn't a question, but Rowan nodded anyway.

"My mother's family has legitimate claim to parts of this territory—claim that was erased from official records generations ago. She wasn't just protecting the truth. She was fighting for our rightful heritage."

Reed's thumb traced patterns on her palm as he processed this.

"Explains why she was so thorough in her preparations. Why she made sure you'd be ready to continue her work."

"It changes everything,"

Rowan said quietly.

"And nothing. The mission is still the same—protect the evidence, ensure it reaches the right authorities. But now..."

"Now it's personal,"

Reed finished.

"Family legacy, not just historical justice."

"Exactly."

She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his.

"I almost lost you today. Before I could tell you..."

His free hand came up to cup her face, fingers gentle against her skin.

"Tell me what?"

"That whatever happens next, whatever this fight brings…I want to face it with you. Not just as allies or partners."

Reed's eyes softened, understanding filling them.

"As family,"

he said simply.

"The family we choose."

"Yes."

The word was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of certainty.

His response was to draw her closer, his kiss gentle but filled with promise. When they separated, his smile held all the confirmation she needed.

"Rest,"

she told him, reluctant to leave but knowing he needed recovery time.

"I'll be back soon."

"I'll be waiting,"

he replied.

"For however long it takes."

As Rowan left the room, she found King waiting in the hallway. His expression suggested he'd witnessed their moment but was choosing not to comment directly.

"Barbara finished analyzing the historical claims,"

he said instead.

"The evidence is overwhelming. If properly presented, it could force renegotiation of resource rights across the entire region."

"No wonder Blackwood's people are willing to kill for it,"

Rowan replied.

"And no wonder Elena went to such lengths to protect it."

King's eyes met hers, understanding in their depths.

"To protect you, her daughter. The rightful heir to what was stolen."

The implications hung between them—of heritage and inheritance, of justice delayed but not denied. Of a mother's determination that her daughter would reclaim what belonged to their family.

"We'll need to move soon,"

King continued.

"Cole's people have intel that Blackwood's regrouping, bringing in more resources."

Rowan nodded, her mind already mapping their next steps.

"Let him come. This time, we'll be ready."

As they walked back toward the conference room, Rowan felt a new strength flowing through her. Not mystical power, but something more fundamental—conviction born of truth. Of understanding exactly what she was fighting for.

Her mother's legacy. Her family's heritage. Her chosen future with Reed.

Some things were worth any price. Even blood.