He studied Finn with an intensity that made the boy feel like he was being dissected. Not in a cruel way, more like Magnus was looking for something specific.
Some answer to a question he hadn't asked yet.
"You didn't freeze last night, Finn. You were starving, sick, weak."
"But when it mattered you attacked. Most men would have run."
"Some would have watched. You attacked."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't save my mom." The answer came out before Finn could stop it.
Raw, honest, the core wound exposed. "She died because I was too small, too weak, too scared."
"I've lived with that for 6 years. I couldn't I couldn't watch another woman die."
"Not if there was something I could do, even if it killed me."
Magnus nodded slowly, like Finn had just confirmed something important. "That kind of courage, Finn, that's not learned."
"It's not trained into you. It just is."
"You either have it or you don't, and you have it."
Magnus stood up, walked to a file cabinet in the corner, pulled out a folder, set it on the table between them. "I'm not a man who believes in coincidence, and I'm not a man who ignores signs when they're put in front of me."
"You're here for a reason. The universe put you in that parking lot for a reason."
He opened the folder. Inside were photographs, documents, papers Finn couldn't quite make out.
"Your mother wanted out of club life, wanted safety for you. I respect that."
"She made her choice, but you're not a child anymore. You made your own choice, and your choice brought you back to where you belong."
Finn stared at the documents, but the words were swimming. His head was still foggy from the concussion, from the pain medication, from the sheer overwhelming reality of the past 4 days.
"I don't understand."
"You will when you're ready. For now, just know this."
"You're not alone anymore. You're not invisible."
"You're seen, and you're protected."
Magnus closed the folder, put it away. "Now, come on."
"There's someone I want you to meet."
They walked through the compound grounds. The place was massive, a fortress, high walls, security cameras, guard posts.
But inside those walls, it felt like something else, a village, a community. Men nodded at Magnus as they passed, respectful, deferential, but their gazes went to Finn with something different.
Curiosity, respect, recognition. The kid who saved Cass had become legend overnight.
Magnus led him to a large building at the far end of the compound, the custom motorcycle shop. The doors were wide open.
Inside, the air smelled like motor oil and metal and welding smoke, the scent of work, of creation, of purpose.
The space was huge. 10 bikes in various states of assembly, tools hanging on pegboards, a lift in the corner with a Harley suspended in the air, its engine exposed like open-heart surgery, and standing beside a workbench holding a socket wrench was a man who looked like he'd been carved from old leather and scar tissue.
Wrench. That's what everyone called him.
His real name was probably something else, but no one remembered anymore. He was in his mid-60s.