Marlowe
The celebration following the vote spilled well into the evening, the whole den's mood lighter and warmer than I'd felt it in longer than I could remember, and I was still catching my breath from the emotional weight of it all when Wrench appeared at my elbow with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"Come with me," he said. "Something you need to see."
He led me to the garage, to the corner where his mysterious, tarp-covered project had been sitting for days, and pulled the covering away without ceremony, revealing a finished motorcycle underneath — sleek, powerful, clearly built with considerable care and skill.
And there, worked into the frame near the fuel tank, initials in careful, deliberate metalwork.
*S.C.*
I stared at it, understanding slowly what I was looking at, m
