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“We caught the bike,” he said.

Ghost smiled. “Who was riding it?”

“You're gonna want to see this,” Mayhem insisted.

“Who the fuck is it?” Ghost asked.

“He won't give us a name,” Mayhem said.

Ghost frowned. “Then persuade him to give you his name.”

“Already tried,” Mayhem said.

“And?” Ghost asked.

“Guy says he'll only talk to Angel,” Mayhem said.

Ghost looked at her, and he could tell that she had heard their conversation. “Put him on speaker,” she ordered.

“That's the other problem,” Mayhem said. “He's got something with him.”

Ghost's stomach tightened. “What is it?”

“A leather notebook,” he said.

Everyone in the barn went silent, and Razor stood. “The ledger.”

Monster shoved him back down and gripped the phone tighter. “Bring him here,” he ordered.

“Already coming in,” Mayhem said, and the call ended.

Angel looked at Ghost. “You think it's real?”

“No idea,” he admitted.

Crow tried to sit straighter. “If someone had Elena's ledger all this time⁠—”

Razor interrupted. “Then Bishop knows.”

Ghost looked toward the barn doors. “How would he know?”

Razor smiled grimly. “Because Bishop knows everything.”

Riot entered the barn first, followed by Mayhem, and a man walked between them. He wasn’t wearing a kutte. He had on black jeans, a black jacket, and he had gray hair. He was maybe in his late fifties. His hands were zip-tied behind him, and tucked beneath one arm was an old leather-bound book.

Angel stopped breathing when the man looked directly at her. “Angelina Sanchez.”

Ghost stepped in front of her and the stranger smiled. “You must be Ghost.”

“Everybody knows me tonight,” he grumbled.

“I know enough,” the man agreed.

“Who are you?” The man's eyes shifted past Ghost, toward Razor.

Razor looked like he'd seen a fucking ghost. “No.”

The stranger smiled. “Hello, Caleb.”