The young man at the counter smiled like he still thought he could walk out.
But the biker’s face had changed completely.
Rose was not just a name to him. It was a wound that had never closed.
He looked down at the little girl, then back at the man.
“Where is her mother?”
The young man shrugged. “She gave the kid to me.”
The girl shook her head violently, hiding behind the biker’s vest.
“He’s lying. He took me when Mom screamed.”
Every biker in the diner stood up at once.
The door chime rang as two more men in leather stepped inside, blocking the exit without saying a word.
The biker reached into his vest and pulled out an old photo of a young woman wearing the same wolf patch on a necklace.
The little girl touched the picture.
“That’s Mom.”
The biker’s eyes filled with rage.
The young man stepped back.
The biker’s voice went cold.
“Rose is my sister.”
Then the little girl whispered:
“She’s still in his car.”