Rowan’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Who was your father, Lena?”
She inhaled shakily. “Caleb Hart. But his road name was Warden.”
The twist landed like a punch to the chest.
Warden wasn’t just a brother. He wasn’t just a rider who’d left.
He was the man who’d taken the fall for all of them.
Years ago, during a raid gone wrong, when the Seraphs’ covert arm had been exposed, someone had needed to disappear, to absorb the blame, to sever ties so the rest could survive. Caleb Hart had volunteered, vanishing into prison records and sealed indictments, ensuring the club endured at the cost of his own freedom.
Officially, he’d died years later, quietly, forgotten by the world.
Unofficially, he was legend.
And now his daughter stood in front of them.
“He’s dead,” Rowan said softly, not as a challenge, but as a fact carved deep into memory.
