"I remember everything."
That answer made Frank uncomfortable.
Because Elias rarely spoke about the past.
Not his military service.
Not the motorcycles.
Not the club.
Not the men he had known.
Especially not the men who had disappeared from his life.
At 7:30 that evening, Elias closed the diner.
He locked the front door.
Then he checked the back door.
Then the windows.
It was an old habit.
Before leaving, he stood beneath the photograph.
The younger man in the picture looked almost nothing like him.
Dark hair.
Hard eyes.
Black leather vest.
A motorcycle beside him.
Three men stood nearby.
One had a scar across his cheek.
Another had a gray beard.
The third was smiling.
Elias touched the corner of the photograph.
"I promised you," he whispered.
Then he turned off the lights.
But outside, across the street, someone was watching.
Cole Danner sat inside a dark pickup.
He had brought two friends.
They watched Elias walk toward his truck.
"That's him," Cole said.
One of the others looked nervous.
"What's the plan?"
Cole smiled.
"Teach the old man some respect."
The first rock struck the diner at 11:46 p.m.
Glass exploded across the kitchen floor.
Elias woke instantly.
He lived in a small apartment behind the diner.
He did not turn on the lights.
Another window shattered.
Then another.
Voices shouted outside.
"Come out, old man!"
Elias stood in darkness.
For a moment, he considered calling the police.