The cabin loomed ahead, a dark smudge against the backdrop of pine trees and mountain shadows. Bones always did like his solitude, but this? This was isolation turned up to eleven. A little patch of nowhere in the middle of nowhere, perfect for disappearing when the city’s heat got too close. The dirt road crunched under my tires as I guided the Fireblade closer, the chill mountain air cutting through the burble of the engine.

I didn’t come all the way out here for nostalgia. Bones had called—scratch that—practically begged. It had been a year since I’d heard from him. That suited me fine. Things between us had been… complicated, to say the least. He’d never been great at tying up loose ends, and apparently, I was just another frayed thread in his tangled life.

When he finally did call, it wasn’t for a reunion. “Reb,” he’d said, his voice taut over the line. “I need your help. It’s serious.”

“You always need my help,” I’d replied, half-smirking into the comm.

“This time’s different,” he insisted. “There’s a crew after me. Pros. I can’t handle it alone.”

Now, here I was, climbing this godforsaken hill to bail him out again. I couldn’t even bring myself to be annoyed about it. Not entirely, anyway. I told myself I came maybe for old times, maybe because I knew what it was like to have no one to call. But deep down, I couldn’t ignore the way his voice had sounded, like he was already half-buried under the weight of it all. Bones wasn’t the type to call for help unless he was out of options. And me? I wasn’t the type to leave someone hanging, no matter how complicated things had gotten.

I cut the engine and swung my leg off the bike, gravel crunching underfoot as I made my way to the cabin. It hadn’t changed much since the last time I saw it: weathered logs, a tilted porch, and that stubborn aura of defiance that reminded me of Bones himself, well mostly just the stubborn part.

The door creaked open before I could knock, and there he was—older, grayer, and just as world-weary as ever. He filled the doorway like he was still deciding whether to be relieved or annoyed to see me. The cabin smelled of old wood, motor oil, and faint traces of something burnt—a smell I could only describe as, Bones. The floor creaked under my boots, as if the cabin itself was tired of holding itself together.

I let the silence hang for a beat, then cocked my head. “I hope you didn’t bring me out here to romance me, Bones.”

He grunted, his signature reply to anything resembling wit. “You think I’d go through this much trouble just to see your face?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I shot back, brushing past him into the cabin.

“Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.” he said smirking.

The place was as barebones as it got. A single room, a stove in the corner, and maps scattered across a rickety table. Bones shut the door behind me, locking it with more effort than seemed necessary. I glanced over my shoulder at him. “So, what’s the deal?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his face hardening. “Paco.” His shoulders sagging like the weight of Paco’s name alone was enough to break him.

That got my attention. “Paco? What the hell did you do to piss him off?”

Bones sighed, slumping into the chair by the table. “It’s not what I did—it’s what they think I did. That racer gang he runs? I fixed one of their cars. Told them the damn thing wasn’t stable, but they didn’t care. Kid raced it anyway, and the half-shaft gave out. Kid died. Turns out he was Paco’s brother.”

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. “And now he’s out for blood.”

“More than blood,” Bones said grimly. “He’s hired a team. Ex-military. Specialists. They’re not just hired guns,” Bones said, his voice low. “My guy said these men are ghosts, no mistakes, no hesitation. They don’t stop until they’ve finished the job. They tore through my place in the desert, and now they’ve got a lead on me up here.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Just gets better..How’d they even know of this place?”

"An old picture of the cabin" he said, a guilty look in his eye. "Had it locked in a safe back at the garage. Guess I wasn’t as secure as I thought.”

“Dammit Bones, amateur,” I muttered, pushing off the wall and pacing the room. “And you called me because…?”

Bones gave me a wry look. “Because you’re the only one crazy enough to take these guys on.”

Bout as close to a compliment as I’ll get. Typical Bones—waiting until the wolves are at the door to call me in, knowing damn well I can’t resist the fight. Or him.