Chapter Nine
Ace
The phone rang sharp enough to slice through darkness and drag me out of the kind of dead sleep born from too many plans and not enough rest. Confusion pinned me for a second before the room came into focus.
My bedroom. Marci beside me. She’d clung to me and begged me not to leave her alone tonight.
Against my better judgment, I’d given in to her.
Three forty-seven on the clock. Nothing good ever followed a call at three forty-seven in the morning.
I grabbed the phone and forced a response through a raw throat. “Yeah?”
“Ace, Rebel here. The Spoke’s on fire. You need to get here now.”
Ice flooded every vein. I pushed away blankets and planted both feet on the floor before my mind fully caught up. “What?”
“Fire trucks are already here. Flames took over the whole back section.”
Marci sat up, her eyes wide and terrified. I pulled on jeans and snatched a shirt from the chair, my hands moving before any conscious thought formed. The Spoke. Burning. The back section where the office once held every file before we moved everything to the clubhouse yesterday.
“We’re going.” I ended the call.
“What happened?” Marci rushed to dress, fingers shaking.
“The bar’s on fire.” My boots went on without laces. “Move.”
Cold night air slammed into us as we burst through the door. An orange glow stained the sky in the distance, and smoke rose in a thick column visible from where we stood.
I sprinted to the truck. Marci climbed in and barely shut her door before I hit the gas. Empty streets left nothing between us and disaster. Every foot of road stretched longer than the last. We turned the corner, and the scene hit us all at once.
The Broken Spoke burned.
The back section blazed hardest, flames shooting through windows familiar enough to punch a hole in my chest. Black smoke climbed toward the clouds.
Fire trucks surrounded the property, emergency lights flashing red and blue across asphalt and half-collapsed siding.
Firefighters moved in a controlled sprint, hoses sweeping arcs of water that vanished in steam as soon as spray met flame.
I killed the engine and leapt out. Heat blasted across the parking lot in suffocating waves. Smoke clung to skin, clothes, lungs. The smell of burning wood mixed through chemicals and plastic until my eyes watered.
A cop raised a hand near the yellow line, posture spelling out one message -- stop or pay for crossing.
“My bar. My building. Tell me what happened.”
He stepped aside, understanding the pointlessness of stopping me.
I moved closer until the heat burned against my face. The back wall had folded in on itself, exposing blackened beams and twisted metal. Shelves, cabinets, furniture, office equipment, everything I’d relied on for seven years had collapsed into charred rubble.
Marci made a small broken sound, sharp enough to sink into my chest and stay there.
Her hand covered her mouth while the flames’ reflection turned her eyes wet and wide.
She understood. The office. The files I’d had with evidence against Mercer.
I had to hope my brothers had an extra copy of what I’d been given.
A firefighter approached through haze, soot streaking his features. “You the owner?”
“Yeah. Manager. Ace Ardis.”
“Fire Chief Matthews.” He motioned toward the wreckage. “Call came in around three fifteen. Back section burned through before our trucks arrived. Crews kept flames from reaching the front. Main bar stands, though smoke and water damage run through the whole structure.”
“How did the fire start?”
A tightness formed around his jaw. “Too early for an official conclusion. Teams found multiple origin points and heavy accelerant patterns in the office area. No accident.”
Arson. Nobody needed to say the word.
Mercer’s shadow loomed over everything.
My fists tightened until nails cut skin. A direct strike against us. A message sent through destruction. He had escalated from threats to full assault and knew no consequences would follow.
“Anyone hurt?” I forced the question out.
“No. Building stood empty. Fortunate timing.” Matthews watched me the way a man watches someone who already knows who did it. “Enemies in your life? A rival? Someone who wanted this place gone?”
Mercer’s face flashed through memory. His threat on this same ground. His power. His rage. His willingness to burn down a life to prove control.
“Yeah,” I answered. “Enemies exist.”
Matthews nodded once. “Investigators will return in the morning. Police involvement starts then. Full cooperation recommended.”
My mouth tasted like ash. “Sure.”
The fire chief walked away to direct his team.
Marci and I remained near the destruction.
The blaze dropped to smoldering ruin. Smoke leaked from every corner of the back structure.
The desk where I handled paperwork no longer existed.
The small window I stared through during phone calls had become a hollow rectangle in a half-collapsed wall.
“This happened because of me,” Marci whispered.
I turned toward her. Pain carved a map across her face. “This happened because Mercer chose violence. His decision. Not yours.”
“He wanted to break you through me.” Her voice cracked. “Your bar. Your business. Every piece of your life. He destroyed everything you built because you protected me.”
“I would make the same choice again without hesitation.”
I reached for her. She stepped away, arms locked around her body, shutting down and shutting me out.
Words rose and died in my throat. Logic couldn’t stand against burned walls and rising smoke. Every argument faded under the weight of destruction right in front of us.
Two hours crawled past while crews soaked hotspots and pulled apart beams. Dawn claimed the sky in pale gray and pink. The front of the bar stood. The rear did not. The devastation stretched from one wall to the other.
Water dripped from half-melted rafters. Smoke settled into my clothes and hair. Every breath carried the bitterness of loss.
Power abused from behind a badge looked like this. A man protected from punishment torched someone else’s life and walked away untouched.
Marci stared at the ruin, silent and shaking. She withdrew farther into herself every minute. Calculations and fear built layer after layer behind her eyes.
She had already started planning her exit.
And I couldn’t find a single promise strong enough to stop her while my bar lay dead in front of us.
* * *
Marci
I watched Ace speak to the fire investigator from twenty feet away, his body held rigid by barely contained rage.
Guilt settled over my shoulders like a physical weight.
The fire came from James. Not my hands, not my match, yet every step leading here pointed straight back to me.
Ace protected me. Ace stood between me and the man who claimed ownership over my entire life.
James chose burning down Ace’s bar as punishment.
This marked the largest hit. Nothing about James ever stopped at property damage. His pattern always followed the same path. Pressure. Intimidation. Destruction. Then violence against anyone who cared about me. Violence against anyone I cared about.
A single thought squeezed my chest until breathing hurt. Ace would get hurt next.
Two years of running came with certain rules.
Get close to nobody. Matter to nobody. Leave before anyone paid the price for knowing me.
Lori from the diner. Mr. Henderson. Now Ace, The Broken Spoke, and every member of the Savage Raptors.
Names changed, locations changed, timing changed. I remained the common denominator.
Leaving stood as the only answer. Removing myself from the equation would redirect James’s focus. Bryson Corners would slip off his radar. Ace and his brothers would shift from targets to nothing worth pursuing. The cycle of running would begin again, only this time no one else would bleed for me.
The decision locked into bone and muscle.
I knew from the first glimpse of flames.
Reality only solidified once I watched Ace stand inside the wreckage of everything he’d built.
His life deserved stability, loyalty, peace.
None of those came from staying near me.
None of those survived under James’s obsession.
An insurance adjuster approached Ace, clipboard tucked under his arm.
Ace turned to handle damage numbers and coverage details, his back to me.
His focus stayed on the stranger in a suit.
I took three slow steps backward. Then three more.
Deliberate movements from someone who had vanished from crowds before.
Firefighters ignored me. Just another bystander drifting away.
I reached the far edge of the lot unseen.
The walk back to Ace’s house took fifteen to twenty minutes. Early sunlight painted houses and storefronts in warm gold, soft and peaceful in a way that felt cruel. My sneakers barely whispered on the sidewalk, and I kept my head down. Nobody looked twice.
The house was exactly as we’d left it. Unmade bed. Clothes tossed on the chair. Coffee mugs still in the sink from before the phone call. Normal details hit harder than the fire. Proof of the life I wanted stood in front of me. A future I’d believed possible. Comfort. Safety. Belonging.
I crossed the room fast. Muscle memory guided my movements. Backpack from the closet. Spare clothes. Toothbrush. Bathroom essentials. The small roll of cash saved over weeks. My hands shook through every task. Practical action happened automatically while my heart broke behind the motion.
The auxiliary jacket waited on the couch.
It drew my eye. Property of Ace. My fingers brushed the patch, and a tremor shot through my chest. I turned away before tears started.
Leaving while wearing that claim would destroy me.
That jacket belonged to the version of myself who believed safety had finally come.