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It started on an ordinary evening at a roadside diner. Fifteen bikers, all military veterans, sat around a table drinking coffee and swapping stories. Leather jackets, weathered faces, and heavy laughter filled the booth. It was the kind of gathering that might look intimidating to outsiders, but to the men at that table, it was family.
“Can you… stop my stepdad?” he whispered.
The room went silent. Forks froze midair. Conversations halted. The bikers stared at the child who had just asked them for help as if it were the most natural thing in the world.