PART 3: The name that made the entire yard go still
The biker leader’s face had gone pale under his beard.
He slowly knelt down in the dust until he was eye level with the little boy. His rough hands looked almost too big as he carefully took the tiny kitten from Tommy’s arms. The animal trembled but didn’t try to run.
The other bikers had stopped moving completely. Even the ones who usually laughed the loudest stood frozen, boots planted in the dirt, eyes flicking between their leader and the chubby kid with tear-streaked cheeks.
Rex’s voice came out low and rough.
“What’s your father’s name, kid?”
Tommy wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He looked scared but determined.
“Marcus Hale. He said you would know him. He said… you’re his brother.”
The words hit the yard like a hammer.
Rex’s fingers tightened slightly around the old metal tag. He turned it over in his palm. The scratches were deep, but the name “M. Hale – Brother” was still clear. He hadn’t seen that tag in eight years.
Around him, some of the older bikers exchanged looks. A few of them remembered Marcus — the wild younger brother who used to ride with them before he suddenly left one night without saying goodbye.
Rex stared at the boy.
May you like
Eight years. Eight years of silence. And now this.
The kitten meowed softly again, like it was reminding everyone why they were all standing there.
