PART 1

The wind that night wasn’t just cold; it was malicious. It had teeth. It bit through the thin, frayed cotton of my hoodie and gnawed at the bruises blooming across my ribs like dark, ugly flowers. But I didn’t feel the cold. Not really. I felt the small, trembling hand crushed inside my own.

Victoria.

She was ten years old, but tonight, in the shivering glare of the streetlamps, she looked five. She was clutching that stupid Captain Underpants comic book to her chest like it was a holy relic, a shield that could block punches or screams or the sound of breaking glass.

We were walking fast, sticking to the shadows of the alleyways, avoiding the main roads where the police cruisers trawled. I couldn’t risk the cops. Cops meant questions. Questions meant calls to parents. And a call to “parents” meant him. Dean.

The thought of his name made my stomach lurch, a violent spasm of nausea that tasted like bile and fear.

“Pete?” Victoria’s voice was barely a whisper, thin and brittle like dried leaves. “My feet hurt.”

“I know, Vic. I know,” I whispered back, not slowing down. I couldn’t slow down. If I stopped, the adrenaline pumping through my veins would turn to sludge, and I’d collapse. “Just a little further. I promise.”

I was lying. I didn’t know if it was a little further. I didn’t know if we were walking toward salvation or a different kind of hell. All I knew was the rumor. The whispers I’d heard from the burnouts behind the gym at school. The Iron Lanterns. They said they were bad news. They said they ran guns, drugs, god knows what else. They said they were animals.

But animals protect their territory. And right now, I needed a pack of wolves to keep the monster at bay.

The garage loomed out of the darkness at the edge of town, a hulking concrete fortress wedged between a dead laundromat and a vacant lot choked with weeds. The asphalt was cracked, veins of crabgrass splitting the ground. A single security light buzzed overhead, flickering with a sickly yellow spasms, casting long, dancing shadows that looked like grasping hands.

It smelled like oil. Heavy, thick, industrial oil. And metal. The scent of things being built and things being destroyed.

“Pete,” Victoria tugged on my hand, stopping dead. Her eyes were wide, reflecting the yellow light, swimming with terror. “That’s… that’s the biker place.”

“Yeah,” I breathed, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.

“Mom said never go near there,” she whimpered. “She said they’re bad men.”

“Mom isn’t here, Vic,” I said, harsher than I intended. The regret hit me instantly. I squeezed her hand. “Listen to me. I need you to trust me. Just for tonight. Can you do that?”

She looked at the metal door, then back at the dark street behind us. She knew what was back there. She nodded, a jerky, terrified motion.

I took a breath that rattled in my lungs and stepped up to the steel door. It was painted a dull, peeling gray, scarred with scratches and dents. Inside, I could hear the muffled thrum of rock music and the metallic clank-clank-clank of tools.

I raised my fist. It felt heavy, like lead.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound was pathetic. Swallowed by the wind. I gritted my teeth and hammered harder.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The noise inside stopped.

The silence that followed was heavier than the noise. It was a physical weight pressing against the other side of the door. I felt Victoria shrink behind me, trying to make herself invisible. I stepped in front of her, squaring my shoulders, trying to look like I was fifteen going on twenty, not fifteen going on a nervous breakdown.

The lock tumbled with a heavy, industrial thud.

The door cracked open six inches. A slice of warm, golden light cut across the alley, illuminating the grime on my sneakers.

A face appeared in the gap. Or rather, a scowl carved out of granite.

He was huge. That was my first thought. Just a wall of muscle and denim. Graying hair at the temples, a beard that looked like steel wool, and eyes that had seen things—terrible things—and hadn’t blinked. He was wiping grease from his hands with a rag that was more oil than fabric.

Ryan. I didn’t know his name then, but I knew his type. He was the guy you crossed the street to avoid.

“Help you?” His voice was gravel grinding on concrete. No question mark. Just a challenge.

I forced myself not to flinch. My knees were shaking so bad I thought they’d buckle, but I locked them. “I don’t need anything,” I said. My voice cracked. Dammit. I cleared my throat and tried again, pushing the desperation down into the pit of my stomach. “But she does.”

I stepped to the side, revealing Victoria.

Ryan’s eyes shifted. They didn’t soften—men like him didn’t do ‘soft’—but the hostility flickered. He took her in: the mismatched socks, the denim jacket that was too thin for October, the smudge of dirt on her chin, the way she was strangling that comic book.

“What are you asking for?” Ryan asked, his eyes snapping back to me.

“One night,” I said. The words tumbled out, fast and desperate. “Just one night. Let her sleep somewhere safe. I’ll stay outside. I’ll sit on the curb. I don’t care. I just… I need to know she’s okay for one night.”

Another face appeared behind Ryan. Younger, leaner, with a face that looked like it was carved from flint. Jinx. He looked at us with a frown that was sharp enough to cut glass.

“Where are your parents?” Jinx asked.

“Gone,” I shot back. The lie was easier than the truth. The truth took too long to explain.

A third man drifted into view. Older. He moved with a slow, heavy grace, like a bear coming out of hibernation. Copper. He looked at Victoria, then at me. He looked at the bruise on my jaw that I’d been trying to hide by turning my head. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at Ryan and nodded. Once. A microscopic movement.

Ryan sighed, a sound like air brakes releasing. He pulled the door open.

“Get inside.”

I froze. I hadn’t expected it to work. I had expected a ‘get lost,’ or a shove, or maybe a call to the cops.

“I’m serious,” I said, planting my feet. “Just her. I don’t need—”

“I said get inside.” Ryan’s tone changed. It wasn’t a suggestion anymore. It was an order. The kind of order you obeyed because the alternative was unthinkable.

I pulled Victoria forward. We stepped over the metal threshold, and the door slammed shut behind us with a finality that made me jump.

The world changed instantly.

The wind was gone. The cold was gone. The garage was cavernous, smelling of decades of hard work—gasoline, old tires, burnt coffee, and raw metal. High ceilings were lost in shadow, but down here, under the shop lights, it was a cathedral of chrome. Motorcycles in various stages of undress were scattered around on lifts. A wall of tools gleamed with military precision, thousands of wrenches and sockets shining like surgical instruments.

Victoria’s eyes went wide. She forgot to be scared for a second, mesmerized by the sheer scale of it.

“Sit,” Copper said, pointing to a folding cot set up near the parts shelves. He disappeared into an office and came back with a fleece blanket. It smelled like motor oil and detergent, but it looked thick. Warm.

Victoria looked up at me, her eyes seeking permission.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, though my heart was still racing a million miles an hour. “Go ahead.”

She sat on the edge of the cot, her legs dangling, her feet not touching the floor. She looked tiny against the backdrop of heavy machinery.

Jinx walked over to a hot plate in the corner. I watched him like a hawk. I was cataloging exits. Front door: locked. Back door: unknown. Windows: too high. If they tried anything, if they touched her, I’d have to grab a wrench. I’d have to fight. I’d lose, but I’d have to try.

Jinx turned around holding a mug. He walked over to Victoria. I tensed, my muscles coiling.

He handed her the mug. “Chocolate milk,” he said. “Warm.”

Victoria took it with both hands, the ceramic warming her frozen fingers. She brought it to her nose and inhaled. A small, ghostly smile touched her lips. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Kid,” Ryan barked from near the door.

I snapped my head toward him. “Yeah?”

“When’s the last time you slept?”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t remember. Was it yesterday? Two days ago? The nights blended together when you spent them listening for footsteps in the hallway, waiting for the shouting to start.

“Sit,” Ryan pointed to a stool.

I sat. But I didn’t relax. I positioned the stool so I was between the bikers and Victoria. A human shield.

The hours bled into the night. The bikers went back to work, but the tension in the room had shifted. It wasn’t hostile anymore. It was… watchful.

Jinx crouched next to Victoria. “You like that book?” he asked, pointing to Captain Underpants.

She nodded, mute.

“I got a nephew about your age,” Jinx said, and his face did something strange. It softened. The flint turned to something warmer. “He loves those. You read it already?”

“Three times,” she said softly.

“We’ll find you a new one tomorrow,” he said. He stood up and looked at me. “Permission granted.”

Permission granted? For what? To breathe? To exist?

Around 3 AM, Victoria finally crashed. The adrenaline burned out, leaving her limp. She curled up on the cot, the oil-scented blanket pulled to her chin. Within seconds, her breathing evened out. She was out.

I watched her chest rise and fall. It was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“You need to sleep,” Ryan said. He was standing right next to me. I hadn’t heard him approach. That scared me more than his size.

“I’m good,” I lied. My eyes felt like they were full of sand.

“You’re dead on your feet,” Ryan countered. “Lay down.”

“Someone has to watch the door,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper so I wouldn’t wake Vic.

Ryan studied me. He looked at the door. He looked at my bruised jaw. He looked at my hands, which were shaking despite my best efforts to hide them.

“I’ll take first watch,” he said. “You close your eyes for two hours. Deal?”

I looked up at him. I searched his face for the trick. The trap. The payment he was going to demand. Men didn’t do favors. Not for free. Dean had taught me that.

But Ryan’s eyes were steady. Flat, hard, but honest.

“Okay,” I whispered.

I slid off the stool and lay on the concrete floor right next to the cot. I put my back against the wall. If anyone wanted to get to her, they’d have to step over me.

“Two hours,” I muttered.

I was asleep before my head hit the floor.

The sound of an engine revving jolted me awake.

My body jerked, my hand flying out instinctively to grab Victoria. My fingers brushed the wool of the blanket. She was there. She was still asleep.

I scrambled to a sitting position, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Sunlight—dusty, golden, and sharp—was slicing through the high windows, illuminating millions of dancing motes of dust.

It was morning. I had slept. I had slept for hours.

Panic flared hot and bright. I had let my guard down.

I whipped my head around. The garage looked different in the daylight. Less like a dungeon, more like a workplace. Calendars on the walls, oil stains on the concrete, the smell of fresh coffee cutting through the grease.

Copper was at a workbench, pouring dark liquid into a styrofoam cup. He glanced at me.

“Sleep okay?”

I blinked, disoriented. “I… yeah. Thanks.”

“Bathroom’s through that door,” he pointed. “Towels on the shelf if you want to clean up.”

It was so normal. It was terrifyingly normal.

I stumbled into the bathroom. The mirror was cracked in the corner. I looked at my reflection and flinched. I looked like a feral animal. Dirt caked in the creases of my neck, dark circles under my eyes like bruises, and the actual bruise on my jaw turning a sickly yellow-purple.

I splashed cold water on my face, scrubbing at the grime until my skin was raw.

When I came back out, the dynamic in the room had shifted again.

There was a woman there.

She wasn’t a biker. She was… grandma-like. But not the cookie-baking kind. The kind that chopped her own wood. Silver hair in a braid, practical clothes, hands that looked like they could soothe a fever or wring a chicken’s neck with equal proficiency. She was setting a box of pastries on the workbench.

“You must be Pete,” she said. Her voice was warm, lived-in. “I’m Gloria.”

Victoria stirred on the cot. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, her hair a bird’s nest of tangles. She saw Gloria and froze.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Gloria smiled. It wasn’t a predatory smile. It was just… nice. “You hungry?”

Victoria looked at me. The question was in her eyes: Is this safe? Is this real?

I looked at Ryan, who was standing by the door, arms crossed, watching the street. I looked at Copper, sipping his coffee. I looked at Gloria, holding out a cinnamon roll.

I nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” Victoria whispered.

“Come on then,” Gloria beckoned. “These are better warm.”

We stood around the workbench, eating cinnamon rolls that tasted like heaven and sugar and butter. I ate mine in three bites, the hunger I hadn’t felt last night suddenly roaring back like a beast.

Jinx walked in from the back lot, wiping his hands on a rag. He grabbed a roll and leaned against a tool chest.

“Sleep okay?” he asked Victoria.

She nodded, her mouth full.

“Good.” Jinx’s eyes flicked to me. It wasn’t a casual look. It was a scan. An assessment. He was reading me like a blueprint.

“After breakfast,” Gloria said, “I can help you wash up, honey. Maybe braid that hair if you want?”

Victoria hesitated, then looked at the tangle of hair in her reflection in the shiny chrome of a motorcycle tank. She nodded shyly and took Gloria’s hand.

They walked toward the bathroom.

The second the door clicked shut, the air in the garage changed. The warmth evaporated.

Jinx turned to me. The playful uncle act was gone. He was all sharp angles and intensity now.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

My guard slammed back up. Iron walls. “About what?”

“Just want to make sure she’s okay,” he said low. “That you’re both okay.”

He jerked his head toward the open bay door. “Outside.”

I hesitated. I looked at the bathroom door where Victoria was. Then I looked at Ryan. Ryan gave me a small nod. Go.

I followed Jinx out into the cool morning air. He leaned against the brick wall, lighting a cigarette. He didn’t offer me one.

“I worked trauma for six years before the club,” Jinx said, exhaling a plume of blue smoke. “You see enough kids, you learn what to look for.”

My stomach tightened into a knot. “What things?”

“The way she moves,” Jinx said, his eyes drilling into mine. “Careful. Like she’s afraid of breaking the air. The way she watches doors. The way you stand between her and every man in that room.”

He paused, letting the silence stretch until it screamed.

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Pete,” he said softly. “I can see you’d walk through fire for that little girl. But someone has been hurting her. And I need to know how bad it is.”

The secret I’d been carrying, the heavy, shameful secret of what happened in that trailer, sat in my throat like a stone.

“It’s not me,” I choked out.

“I know,” Jinx said. “Tell me who.”

PART 2

“His name is Dean,” I said. The name tasted like ash in my mouth. “He’s not… he was never our stepdad. Not legally. He just moved in after Mom left and started paying the rent.”

I looked down at my sneakers. The toe was peeling away from the sole. “CPS didn’t care because the bills were getting paid. They saw a roof, they saw food, they closed the file.”

Jinx didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer platitudes. He just smoked his cigarette and listened with a terrifying intensity.

“He has rules,” I continued, my voice flattening out. It was easier to say if I stripped the emotion out of it. If I reported it like a weather forecast. “Every toy put away. Silent after 8 PM. Touch the fridge without permission and you regret it.”

My hands balled into fists at my sides. “Victoria is ten. She forgot once. She left her stuffed rabbit on the couch. Just… forgot it.”

I looked up at Jinx. “He grabbed her. He shook her so hard her head snapped back. He was screaming in her face, telling her she was ungrateful, that she was garbage.”

I took a breath. “I got between them. I took it instead. But I knew… I knew we couldn’t stay. Not this time. Next time he wouldn’t stop shaking her.”

Jinx dropped his cigarette butt and crushed it under his boot. He stared at the flattened embers for a long moment.

“Can I check her over?” he asked.

I stiffened.

“Just to make sure nothing’s broken or infected,” he added quickly, his hands held up in a peace gesture. “I won’t hurt her, Pete. I swear on my cut. But we need to document it if we’re going to keep her safe.”

I studied him. I searched for the trap. I looked for the lie in his eyes. I didn’t find one. I found a cold, hard anger, but it wasn’t directed at me.

“Okay,” I whispered. “But I stay with her.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

When Gloria brought Victoria back out, she looked like a different kid. Her hair was woven into two neat French braids. Her face was scrubbed clean, revealing a scattering of freckles across her nose that I hadn’t seen in weeks under the grime. She looked younger. More fragile.

Jinx crouched down to her level. He didn’t loom.

“Hey, Vic,” he said gently. “I used to be a nurse. Did Pete tell you?”

She shook her head, clutching Gloria’s hand.

“Yep. Before I was fixing bikes, I was fixing people. I just want to check your arms and your back. Make sure you’re healthy. Is that okay?”

Victoria looked at me. Her eyes were wide, darting like a trapped animal.

“It’s okay,” I said, forcing my voice to be steady. “He’s just checking. I’m right here.”

She nodded slowly. She let go of Gloria’s hand and stepped forward.

Jinx was gentle. Professional. He rolled up her sleeves slowly, asking her about her favorite colors, her favorite school subjects. Distracting her.

But I saw the moment he found them.

The bruises on her upper arms were faded to a sickly yellow-green, the shape of fingers burned into her skin. But the one on her shoulder blade was darker. Newer. Purple and angry.

Jinx’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t gasp. But his jaw tightened until I thought his teeth would shatter. The muscles in his neck corded.

“You’re a tough kid, Victoria,” Jinx said, rolling her sleeve back down with infinite care. “These are healing up good. You’re going to be just fine.”

She nodded, relieved. Gloria immediately stepped in, holding up a book. “Look what I found in the office, sweetie. The Girl Who Drank the Moon. It’s about a dragon.”

As Gloria led Victoria away to a quiet corner, Jinx stood up. He walked over to Copper and Ryan.

I couldn’t hear what he said. I didn’t need to. I saw the look on Ryan’s face. It was the look of a man deciding whether to call the police or handle things in a way that didn’t involve paperwork.

Copper pulled out his phone. He dialed a number and spoke in low, clipped tones. When he hung up, he looked over at me.

“Melany’s coming,” Copper said. “She’s a lawyer. A shark in a skirt. And I got Sandra on the line—the only CPS worker in this county who actually gives a damn.”

Ryan nodded once. He walked over to me, stopping just outside my personal space.

“You did the right thing bringing her here,” he said.

I didn’t feel like I did the right thing. I felt like I had run out of options. I felt like a coward who had waited too long.

“I just… I didn’t know where else to go,” I admitted.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ryan said. “You’re here now.”

The afternoon brought a shift in the atmosphere. The garage went from a place of refuge to a staging ground.

The Iron Lanterns were gearing up.

Ryan, a guy called Wrench who looked like he chewed nails for breakfast, and a woman named Diesel—who was terrifyingly cool—were pulling on their leathers. They were checking their bikes. The air filled with the sharp snick-snick of zippers and the thud of heavy boots.

They didn’t announce where they were going. They didn’t need to.

I watched from the garage door as the bikes rumbled to life. The sound was a physical vibration in my chest, a deep, guttural roar that shook the dust from the rafters. Chrome gleamed in the autumn sun.

My stomach knotted. “Where are they going?” I asked Copper, who had stayed behind.

“Just looking,” Copper said, his eyes on the departing riders. “Not engaging. We need to know what we’re dealing with. We need to see the threat.”

I watched them peel out of the lot, a formation of steel and noise heading straight into the belly of the beast. I kept my eyes fixed on the road until the sound of the engines faded completely, swallowed by the distance.

Inside, the garage was quiet.

Victoria was sitting cross-legged on the cot, absorbed in the book Gloria had given her. She turned the pages carefully, reverently, like they might disintegrate if she was too rough.

Gloria sat nearby in a folding chair, knitting something that looked like a scarf. The rhythmic click-click of her needles was a soothing metronome.

“You like dragons?” Gloria asked without looking up.

Victoria nodded. “They’re strong.”

“They are,” Gloria agreed. “Smart, too. Good protectors.”

Victoria paused, her finger resting on a word. “Do you think dragons are real?”

Gloria stopped knitting. She looked at Victoria over the top of her glasses.

“I think the people who act like dragons are real,” Gloria said. “The ones who protect people who can’t protect themselves. The ones who have fire in their bellies when they see something wrong.”

Victoria glanced toward the door, where I was standing. “Like my brother.”

My heart stopped.

“Exactly like your brother,” Gloria smiled.

I had to look away. My eyes were burning. I wasn’t a dragon. I was just a kid who was too small to fight back.

“Hey,” Copper called out to me. He held out a toolbox. “Make yourself useful.”

He pointed to the wall where wrenches, sockets, and screwdrivers hung in chaotic clusters. “Organize that. By size. Metric separate from standard. You know tools?”

“Some,” I said, taking the heavy box. “My dad used to…” I trailed off.

“Well, now you’ll know more,” Copper said. He didn’t push.

It was busy work. Simple. Methodical. And I latched onto it like a lifeline. I sorted through years of accumulated hardware. Rusted washers, mismatched bolts, sockets that had been missing from sets since the 90s. My hands stayed busy. My mind stayed quiet—almost.

The rumble returned before I expected it.

I dropped the socket I was holding—a 10mm, naturally—and moved to the door.

Ryan swung off his bike, pulling his gloves off one finger at a time. His face was unreadable. Stone. Wrench and Diesel followed, their expressions harder, darker.

“Well?” Copper asked, stepping out to meet them.

Ryan glanced at me, then jerked his head toward the office. “Inside.”

They stepped into the small office, and I strained to hear through the half-open door.

“It’s bad,” Ryan’s voice was low, vibrating with suppressed rage. “Trailer’s falling apart. Paint peeling, trash everywhere. Windows boarded up from the inside.”

“Guy was on the porch,” Diesel added, her voice sharp. “Mid-afternoon, drinking a beer, watching the road like a dog waiting for a fight. He had a bat leaning against the railing.”

“Neighbors keep their distance,” Ryan continued. “One lady across the way gave us a look like she knew exactly why we were there. She looked… relieved.”

“Place looks like it should have been condemned years ago,” Wrench grunted. “No kid should be living in that filth.”

“They’re not anymore,” Ryan said flatly.

When they came back out, I searched Ryan’s face for answers. For the verdict.

Ryan just walked over and clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“You made the right call leaving,” he said. “That’s not a home. That’s barely shelter.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. Validation. It felt strange.

Two hours later, a car pulled up outside. A sleek, black sedan that looked out of place among the rusted pickups and choppers.

A woman stepped out. Sharp suit, sharper eyes, carrying a leather briefcase like a weapon. She scanned the garage, the bikes, the Iron Lanterns patch on the wall, and her expression didn’t flicker.

Melany.

She shook hands with Ryan, greeted Copper by name, and spotted me immediately. She walked straight to me.

“You’re Pete?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Let’s talk.”

We sat in the office. Me, Melany, Ryan, and Copper. Gloria stayed with Victoria, keeping her distracted with the dragon book, building a wall of words around her.

Melany pulled out a legal pad and a pen. She didn’t waste time with small talk.

“I need you to tell me everything,” she said. “From the beginning. When your mother left. When he showed up. Every incident. Every threat. Every bruise.”

I talked. It came out flat, mechanical. I was reading from a script I had rehearsed in my head a thousand times while lying awake at night.

“Mother vanished over a year back. Note on the counter. I can’t do this anymore. Dean showed up weeks later.” I spat the name like poison. “Paid the rent. Kept food in the fridge—mostly for himself. Had rules. Too many rules.”

Melany wrote everything down in shorthand. She didn’t interrupt. She didn’t gasp. She just recorded the facts.

“When Victoria forgot to put the dishes away… he locked her in the closet,” I said, my voice cracking. “For six hours. In the dark.”

Ryan’s fist clenched on the table, the knuckles turning white. Copper looked away, his jaw working.

When I finished, Melany set her pen down. She looked at me, and for the first time, her professional mask slipped. There was sadness there. Deep, profound sadness.

“Here’s what happens next,” she said. “I file for emergency custody on Victoria’s behalf. We’ll get a temporary placement order, likely within 72 hours. You’re a minor too, so we’ll include you in the filing. The state will investigate Dean. CPS will inspect the trailer. If what you’re telling me is accurate—and I believe it is—he won’t see either of you again.”

“Where do we go?” I asked. The question hung in the air. Foster care? A group home? Separated?

Melany looked at Ryan. Then back at me.

“That depends,” she said. “There’s a CPS caseworker named Sandra who I trust. She’s coming tomorrow to assess this space. If it’s safe, if there’s supervision, and if you both want to stay… we can make it work temporarily.”

“They can stay,” Ryan said. No hesitation. No consulting the others. “We have the space. Gloria is a licensed foster parent from way back. We’ll cover the costs.”

Melany nodded. “Then we make it official.”

I felt something hot and wet on my cheeks. I wiped my face quickly, embarrassed, but no one commented. Copper just handed me a napkin from the coffee station.

“Thank you,” I choked out.

That night, Victoria fell asleep on the cot again, this time with the dragon book tucked under her pillow. I sat beside her, less tense than before, but still watching.

Jinx walked over to the office door. He had a drill in his hand. He began installing a deadbolt. Something heavy-duty. Something that clicked solid when it closed.

“Just in case,” Jinx said quietly, catching my eye.

I understood. Just in case Dean came looking tonight. Just in case the monster tried to break down the castle gates.

But this time, I wasn’t the only one guarding the door.

PART 3

Sandra arrived on the third day.

She wasn’t what I expected. I expected a bureaucrat with a clipboard and a scowl. Sandra was younger, maybe in her thirties, with tired eyes that still managed to hold a spark of kindness. Her messenger bag was worn soft from years of use, and she wore sensible shoes meant for walking through messy situations.

She didn’t look at the garage like it was a problem to solve. She looked at it like it was a possibility.

Victoria was in the office with Gloria when Sandra knocked. I opened the door, my palms sweating despite the cool morning air.

“You must be Pete,” Sandra said, extending her hand. Her grip was firm. “I’m Sandra. Mind if I come in?”

I shook her hand and stepped aside. “No, ma’am.”

Ryan appeared from the back, wiping oil off his hands, and nodded a greeting. Copper followed, quieter but present, like a silent sentinel.

Sandra didn’t rush. She walked through the garage slowly, taking it all in. She looked at the tool wall I had organized—wrenches gleaming in size order. She looked at the cot that had been upgraded to a real mattress and frame over the last two days. She looked at the bookshelf Copper had built over the weekend—simple pine, nothing fancy, but sturdy and already filling up with books Gloria kept bringing from the thrift store.

“This is impressive,” Sandra said. And she sounded like she meant it. “Safe. clean. Organized.”

“We take care of our own,” Ryan said simply.

Sandra stopped at the office door. Through the window, we could see Victoria sitting at a small desk Ryan had pulled from a storage unit. She was drawing something with colored pencils, her tongue poking out in concentration. Gloria sat nearby, reading a magazine and occasionally glancing over to admire Victoria’s work.

“Can I talk to her?” Sandra asked me.

I nodded, though my chest tightened. This was the test. This was the moment that would decide everything.

Sandra entered the office alone. I watched through the window as she pulled up a chair and sat at Victoria’s level. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I saw Victoria’s face—cautious at first, then gradually softening. She showed Sandra her drawing.

It was a dragon. Bright red with green eyes, standing in front of what looked like a castle. The castle had a big, sturdy door.

Sandra pointed to something on the page. Victoria smiled. A real smile.

Twenty minutes later, Sandra emerged. She looked at me, then at Ryan and Copper.

“She’s safe here,” Sandra said. “Happier than most kids I see in state facilities. She told me about the books. About the chocolate milk. About how Jinx checks for monsters under the bed.”

She paused, looking at Ryan. “I’m recommending temporary emergency placement with Gloria as the primary guardian, with the club providing housing and financial support. Ninety days while the investigation proceeds. Dean’s already been flagged. The trailer is being inspected this week.”

She turned to me. “If things go the way I think they will, you won’t have to worry about him again. He’s got outstanding warrants we didn’t know about until Melany started digging.”

I felt something crack open in my chest. A pressure I had been carrying for a year—a weight so heavy I had forgotten what it felt like to stand up straight—suddenly vanished.

“We can stay?” I whispered.

“You can stay,” Sandra smiled.

That evening, the club threw a celebration.

It wasn’t a party. It was just… dinner. But it felt like a coronation.

Wrench dragged a grill out from the storage shed and fired it up. The smell of charcoal and sizzling beef filled the lot. Sodas were chilling in a cooler full of ice. Chips were in bowls on the workbench. Diesel brought homemade coleslaw that was actually good.

And Jinx made his infamous potato salad. Everyone pretended to like it, but I saw Copper quietly scraping his into the trash when Jinx wasn’t looking.

Victoria sat on an overturned crate, watching Copper teach her how to play cards. She was terrible at it. She kept showing everyone her hand and giggling when they told her not to.

“Got any threes?” she asked, grinning.

“Go fish, kid,” Copper grumbled, but his eyes were crinkling at the corners.

Victoria laughed. A bright, clear sound that cut through the rumble of the nearby highway.

I stopped mid-bite of my burger. I just stared at her.

“Kid’s got a good laugh,” Jinx said, appearing beside me with a soda. “Bet you haven’t heard it in a while.”

I shook my head. “Can’t remember. Might have been before Mom left.”

“Well,” Jinx clinked his soda can against mine. “You’re going to hear it a lot more now.”

As the sun began to set, the garage lights flickered on, casting long, amber shadows across the lot. The air smelled like charcoal and autumn and something I couldn’t quite name. Maybe safety. Maybe home.

Ryan found me later, standing near the fence line, watching the street. Old habits die hard. I was scanning for Dean’s truck. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You’ve been watching the door for her for a long time,” Ryan said, leaning against the chain link fence beside me.

I didn’t deny it. “Someone had to.”

“Yeah. But not anymore.” Ryan’s voice was firm, certain. “We’ve got the watch now. We’ve got the door. You can rest, Pete.”

I looked at him. I searched for the catch. The expiration date on this kindness.

“I don’t know how to do that,” I admitted quietly. “I don’t know how to stop watching.”

“You’ll learn,” Ryan said. “We’ll teach you. Just like Copper’s teaching her cards. You learn to let go of the lookout.”

He pushed off the fence. “Come on. Burgers are getting cold.”

Inside, Victoria was explaining the dragon book to Gloria with animated hand gestures. Her hands swooped through the air, mimicking wings. Gloria laughed at something Victoria said, and the kid beamed like she had just discovered she was funny.

Diesel was showing her the patches on her vest, explaining what each one meant. Copper was shuffling the cards again.

Jinx walked to the front gate. I tensed instinctively.

But he didn’t open it. He locked it. Then he set the alarm—a new system installed two days ago. Beep-beep. Armed.

Wrench did a final walk around the perimeter, checking the shadows.

Everyone moved with purpose. With care. Like they had done this before. Like they knew exactly what it meant to protect something fragile.

That night, Victoria fell asleep on the couch in the small lounge area behind the office. Her dragon book was open on her chest, and Gloria’s knitted scarf was draped over her like a blanket. Her face was peaceful. Unguarded. It was the face of a kid who finally, truly felt safe.

I sat in the chair across from her, watching her breathe. I wasn’t quite ready to sleep myself.

Gloria brought me a pillow. Jinx left a bottle of water on the side table. Copper locked the inner doors and double-checked the windows.

Ryan stopped by before heading out to his own place.

“You good?” he asked.

I looked at Victoria. Then at the heavy steel door. Then at the men and women who had turned a garage into a fortress for two strangers.

“Yeah,” I said, and for the first time, I meant it. “I’m good.”

“Get some sleep. Tomorrow, Copper’s going to teach you how to change oil. Victoria’s got a reading session with Gloria at ten.”

It sounded so normal. So impossibly, wonderfully normal.

After everyone left, I sat in the quiet garage and let myself breathe. Deep, full breaths that went all the way to the bottom of my lungs.

Victoria was safe. I was safe.

The Iron Lanterns weren’t looking to be heroes. They didn’t wear capes. They wore grease-stained denim and leather. They were just people who saw someone standing in the dark, shivering, and chose to open the door.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

Sometimes the people who save us aren’t the ones we expect. They’re not the ones in the stories with shining armor. They’re the ones with scarred knuckles and rough voices who say, “Get inside,” and mean “You’re family now.”

I closed my eyes, the sound of Victoria’s steady breathing the only music I needed.

One night, I had asked for.

But I knew, as sleep finally pulled me under, that we had found something that would last a lifetime.