I've seen them moving crates that didn't have cargo inside. I've heard the crying. Jax, it's not just one car. It's a factory."
Jax looked at the map and nodded. "That warehouse is locked down. If anyone rushes in without coordination, the children could be moved or used as leverage. We need to confirm what Leo knows, pass it to the sergeant, and make sure nobody inside gets hurt."
"I'm the ghost," Leo said, stepping forward. "I know that building because I used to shelter around it during the winter of '22. I know an old service route and where the side access points are. I've been there before. I can help now to save lives."
Big Mike looked at Jax, shaking his head. "This is too dangerous, Jax. He's 18, but he's not a soldier. We can't ask him to go inside a place like that alone."
"I was trapped the moment I saw that car," Leo countered, his voice ringing with a conviction that silenced the room. "I'm the one who knows that building, and I'm the one who knows where people disappear in this city. Let me do this for the kids who didn't have someone watching their playground. For the 18 years I spent being invisible, let me finally be seen for something that matters."
The move toward Pier 19 felt like silent thunder. Forty motorcycles carried the club through the industrial district in a long, controlled line, the men unusually quiet as the warehouse drew closer. They stopped well away from the building while Leo guided Jax toward the old service areas he remembered from the years he had survived nearby. He knew the smell of the harbor, the rusted exterior, the neglected corners, and the places where a person could stand unnoticed long enough to observe what was happening inside. For once, his knowledge of hidden corners and forgotten places was being treated as evidence instead of dismissed as the observations of a homeless kid. Jax also made sure the trusted police sergeant knew exactly where they were going and why.