Chapter 12 - The Grim Reapers’ Code
Three days later, the sound of twenty heavy motorcycle engines echoed down the gravel lane. A fleet of custom Harleys and Choppers pulled into the circular driveway of Willow Creek Estate, ridden by broad-shouldered men wearing the black leather cuts of the Grim Reapers MC.
They didn't bring weapons or tactical gear. They brought ladders, toolboxes, bundles of red cedar shingle, and cans of white exterior paint.
For three days, the farm echoed with the sound of hammers, saws, and laughter. Knox stood on the high roof gable, nailing fresh cedar shingles over the old dormer windows. Jax worked on the porch, replacing the rotted steps with thick, solid oak planks that didn't creak under heavy boots.
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Eleanor stood on the lawn below, wearing her grey wool shawl, carrying long wooden trays loaded with sandwiches, cold lemonade, and hot coffee for the crew.
When the sun hit the golden hour on the fourth evening, the old Victorian house stood immaculate—its white paint gleaming, its porch straight and strong, its high windows reflecting the amber sky like polished glass.
