A small body hit the ground hard.
Grass bent. Dust lifted.
A toy motorcycle slipped from tiny hands—
but he grabbed it again fast, holding it up like it mattered more than anything.
“Please, sir! Buy it!”
His voice cracked.
The yard went quiet.
Engines stopped ticking louder than before.
Every biker turned.
The leader stepped forward.
Slow.
Heavy boots across the dirt.
He dropped to one knee.
Took the toy carefully.
Turned it in his hand.
Studied every scratch.
“Who made this?”
The boy wiped his face, struggling to breathe.
“My dad…”
Silence.
The leader’s fingers tightened around the toy.
His eyes hardened—
then shifted.
“What’s his name?”
The boy looked straight at him.
Not scared anymore.
Just… certain.
“He said… find the biker…”
A pause.
The wind moved through the yard.
“…who is my father.”
No one moved.
No one spoke.
The entire yard froze.
The boy reached into his pocket.
Pulled out a folded photo.
Held it out with shaking fingers.
The leader took it.
Opened it slowly.
And everything inside him broke.
A woman.
Young.
Holding a newborn—
wrapped in a blanket with his club’s patch stitched into it.
His hand started shaking.
“No…”
His voice barely existed.
“…she was pregnant?”
The toy slipped from his fingers—
THUD.
Dust rose around it.
The leader’s eyes locked on the photo—
then lifted to the boy—
fear, guilt, and something deeper crashing together.
And just before he could say anything else—
everything went silent.
Part 2 in the comments.
