PART 5: The ride that felt like coming home
The biker yard emptied faster than it ever had before.
Rex rode at the front with Tommy sitting in front of him on the motorcycle. The boy was too small to reach the handlebars properly, so Rex kept one strong arm around him while steering with the other. The kitten stayed hidden inside his open vest, warm against his chest.
Behind them, more than a dozen bikes roared in tight formation. No one was showing off. No one was revving for attention. They just rode like they were following their leader into something that mattered.
At the hospital, Rex walked straight through the automatic doors still holding the kitten. The nurse at the front desk opened her mouth to say something about animals, then saw the look on his face and the patches on the men behind him. She swallowed whatever she was about to say.
“Marcus Hale,” Rex said. His voice was calm but left no room for argument. “Where is he?”
The nurse checked the computer, her expression softening.
“Room 312. ICU. He’s been unconscious since yesterday morning. Are you… family?”
Rex looked down at Tommy, who had grabbed onto his free hand and was holding it tight.
“Yeah,” Rex answered. “We’re family.”
They took the elevator in silence. The only sound was the soft rumble of the kitten purring against Rex’s chest. Tommy kept glancing up at him like he was making sure this was still real.
When the elevator doors opened on the third floor, Rex stopped for a second outside room 312.
Through the glass, he could see the thin figure in the hospital bed. Tubes. Machines. Pale skin. Marcus looked nothing like the loud, laughing younger brother he remembered.
May you like
Tommy let go of his hand and pushed the door open.
“Dad… I did it. I found him. Just like you told me.”
