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

Midnight cast long shadows across the graveyard as Rowan watched Barbara direct the careful excavation of Flash's grave. The archaeology professor had insisted on proper techniques despite the urgency of their situation.

"We're not grave robbers,"

she'd said firmly, setting up precise grid markers around the plot.

"We're preserving history—both the club's and whatever's buried deeper."

The professor's words carried extra weight, given what they'd learned about the club's grounds. Rowan studied the other graves surrounding them, wondering how many more held pieces of The Archive, how many brothers had carried secrets to their grave—literally.

Floodlights powered by portable generators cast harsh light over the scene, creating swaths of artificial day in the darkness. Reed had positioned brothers at strategic points around the perimeter, with Ace watching the north road, Darkness covering the main entrance, and newer members patrolling in pairs.

No one was taking chances after the day's events.

Rowan recognized some of the faces from her surveillance of the club—men who'd earned their patches through blood and loyalty. They moved with practiced efficiency, communicating through hand signals and meaningful looks. This wasn't their first midnight operation.

"Almost there,"

Barbara called softly, her voice carrying in the still night air. She was in the grave herself now, brushing dirt away from something metallic with small tools that gleamed in the floodlights.

"The box is intact. And there's something odd about the soil around it. Different composition, like it was brought in from somewhere else."

Rowan felt King tense beside her. They hadn't spoken much since watching Elena's message, but his presence was oddly comforting. Like a piece of herself she hadn't known was missing had finally clicked into place. She caught him watching her sometimes, his expression a mix of wonder and regret.

"Ready?"

she asked, pulling out Elena's journal. The leather was worn smooth from years of handling, pages dense with her mother's careful notes and cryptic diagrams.

King nodded, his expression unreadable in the artificial light. Together, they approached the grave's edge where Barbara had fully exposed a steel lock box, its surface still pristine, if not a little dirty, after decades underground. The preservation was remarkable, almost as if someone had known it would need to be retrieved one day.

"The journal mentions specific sequences,"

Rowan said, studying the cryptic notes. Her mother's handwriting grew more urgent in these sections, the pressure of her pen engraving the paper.

"Mom encoded everything, but she made sure we'd both be needed to decode it. Your past, my training. She knew we'd have to work together."

She knelt by the grave, ignoring the way the damp earth soaked into her jeans. The box's surface was etched with familiar MC symbols but arranged in patterns she'd never seen before. Except…

"There."

King pointed, his finger tracing a complex design.

"That's an old club marking. We used it back when the territories were first divided, before most of these men were patched. But it's combined with something else—something older."

Rowan traced the pattern with her finger, feeling subtle variations in the metal.

"Mom's work. She modified the original symbols, added layers of meaning."

She flipped through the journal, pages rustling.

"Here. The first key requires both old and new. The past and the present working together. Like she knew…"

"Knew we'd be here,"

King finished softly.

"Elena always could see ten steps ahead."

Their hands joined on the box, finding the hidden pressure points Elena's notes described. The metal was cold under Rowan's fingers, but King's touch was warm. Father and daughter, united by necessity but connected by something deeper. Working in tandem, they pressed the symbols in sequence. Something clicked deep inside the mechanism—tumblers falling into place after decades of waiting.

"Got it,"

Barbara said, already working to lift the lid. Her expert hands moved carefully, preserving any trace evidence around the seal.

"But this is odd. There's another box inside. Smaller, made of different material. And look at these packing materials..."

She carefully extracted an ornate wooden box, its surface covered in intricate carvings. Rowan recognized some of the patterns from Elena's research—pre-colonial symbols mixed with what looked like early European script. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each line cut with precision that modern tools would struggle to match.

"This is it,"

she breathed, recognizing symbols that coincided with her mother's notes.

"The first piece of The Archive."

"Don't open it,"

King warned, his voice sharp with sudden urgency.

"Not here. We need to—"

Gunfire erupted from the darkness, cutting him off. Rowan dove for cover as bullets kicked up dirt around them, her training taking over. Barbara scrambled out of the grave clutching the box, while brothers returned fire from their positions. The night erupted into chaos.

"Devils?"

Rowan asked Reed as he appeared beside her, weapon already drawn. His body provided additional cover as more shots rang out.

"No,"

he said grimly, scanning the darkness between flashes of gunfire.

"Different tactics. More professional. Military precision in their movements."

"Blackwood's men,"

King growled from his position behind a nearby headstone, returning fire with controlled bursts.

"They must have been watching the graveyard, waiting for us to do the hard work."

More attackers were emerging from the shadows, using trees and headstones for cover as they advanced. Rowan counted at least fifteen, all moving with military precision. Their gear was top-of-the-line, their coordination speaking of extensive training.

"Get the box out of here,"

Reed ordered, squeezing off another shot.

"We'll hold them off."

"Not without backup."

Rowan was already moving, finding clear lines of fire. Her mother had trained her for this too—how to defend, how to protect what mattered. She dropped two attackers with precise shots, forcing others to pull back. Elena's voice echoed in her memory.

"Sometimes the best defense is a stronger offense."

"Stubborn woman,"

Reed muttered, but she caught the admiration in his voice as he shifted to better cover her position. Their bodies moved in sync, as if they'd been fighting together for years instead of days.

The firefight intensified as both sides realized what was at stake. Rowan lost track of time, focused only on the rhythm of breath and trigger pull, on keeping the attackers away from the box Barbara was hurriedly packing into a reinforced case. Brass casings littered the ground, smoking slightly in the cool night air.

A familiar rumble cut through the gunfire—motorcycles approaching fast. But friend or foe?

"That'll be Ace,"

Reed said, reloading with practiced efficiency.

"Called in some friends from the coffee shop days. Good men who owe him favors."

Sure enough, more brothers roared into the graveyard, catching the attackers in a crossfire. Rowan recognized some of them as former prospects who'd patched into other chapters, all loyal to the man who'd helped them turn their lives around. The night filled with the thunder of bikes and guns.

"Time to go,"

King called. He had the case containing the box, while Darkness was already leading Barbara to safety.

"Rowan, Reed, you're with me."

They fell back in practiced formation, covering each other's retreat. Rowan ended up on Reed's bike, pressed against his back as they sped away from the graveyard. The solid warmth of him was distracting, but she forced herself to focus on scanning for pursuit.

None came. Whatever force Blackwood had sent wasn't prepared for a full-scale confrontation with multiple chapters of the MC. But Rowan knew this was just the beginning. The Archive's secrets were too valuable to give up easily.

They regrouped at an old hunting cabin Darkness kept as a backup location. The small building was well-maintained but sparse—just the basics needed for lying low. Barbara immediately set up to examine their find, while brothers secured the perimeter.

"You handled yourself well back there,"

Reed said quietly as Rowan helped him check weapons. His hands moved with practiced efficiency over the guns.

"Not many prospects would have stood their ground like that."

"Not many prospects had my mother for a teacher,"

she replied, trying to ignore how close he was standing. His scent—leather and gun smoke and something uniquely him—made it hard to concentrate.

"No,"

he agreed.

"but it's not just the training. You've got something else…something that makes you..."

"Makes me what?"

His dark eyes met hers, intense in the dim light.

"Dangerous,"

he said softly.

"In all the best ways."

Heat bloomed in her chest, but before she could respond, Barbara called them over. She had the wooden box open on a cleared table, its contents carefully arranged. The professor's hands moved with reverence and precision over documents that hadn’t seen the light of day in decades.

"It's incredible,"

she breathed.

"These documents…they're centuries old but perfectly preserved. The materials, the inks used...and look at these markings. They predate any known writing system in this region."

“Pass me that reference file, would you?” Barbara asked, glancing at Ace who was organizing supporting documents nearby.

He nodded, selecting the correct folder without needing further instruction.

Their silent communication spoke of a deep connection forged through both their personal relationship and professional collaboration.

Barbara's archaeological expertise let her recognize patterns in the ancient markings that others might have missed, while Ace's practical approach helped ground their findings in tangible solutions.

The papers were covered in the same mix of symbols they'd seen on the outer box.

Maps, diagrams, strings of code that made Rowan's head hurt to look at.

But under it all was something else.

Something that made her skin prickle with recognition.

"Mom's handwriting,"

she said, pointing to tiny notes in the margins. The familiar script was faded but clear, recording observations and connections.

"She found this before, studied it. The journal entries match up with..."

She trailed off as King held up a photograph. It showed a much younger Elena and King standing in front of the clubhouse, arms around each other. They looked happy, in love—

before secrets and fear tore them apart. But it was what was in the background that caught Rowan's attention.

"The warehouse,"

she said, recognizing the building the Devils had warned them away from.

"There's something about it in these papers. Coordinates, elevation markers. Mom mapped it all out."

"That's where the next piece is,"

King said.

"Has to be. Elena was trying to tell us..."

He traced their younger faces in the photo, lost in memories.

A phone buzzed—the burner they'd taken from one of Blackwood's men. Barbara checked it, her expression grim.

"They're mobilizing,"

she reported.

"Full tactical teams, heavy equipment. They're done playing games. Whatever's in that warehouse, they're going after it with everything they have."

"So are we,"

King said. He looked at Rowan—really looked at her. Not just Elena's daughter now, but her own person. Someone worthy of trust.

"Your mother spent twenty-five years preparing for this. Making sure we'd be ready when the time came. Now it's here."

Rowan studied the photo again—her parents in happier days, before secrets and fear tore them apart. She wouldn't let that happen again. This time, they'd face whatever came together.

"Then let's finish what she started,"

she said firmly.

Reed stepped up beside her, close enough that she could feel his heat.

"Whatever you need."

The words were simple, but his tone held layers of meaning.

She met his eyes, saw the same determination she felt. Whatever came next, they would face it together. All of them.

King's hand found her shoulder, squeezing gently. Father and daughter, finally united. Elena would have been proud.

"Get some rest,"

he told the assembled brothers.

"Tomorrow we find out what's really buried under that warehouse. And God help anyone who tries to stop us."

Rowan watched the others disperse to their assigned positions. So much had changed in just a few days. She'd come looking for answers about her past, but she'd found something more—a future worth fighting for.

Now she just had to survive long enough to claim it.