The 7-Dollar Request That Changed Everything

Big Mike, the club president and a grandfather himself, bent down so his eyes met the boy’s. “What’s your name, buddy?” he asked gently.

“Tyler,” the boy whispered. “Mom’s coming back soon. Will you help or not?”

Before anyone could answer, Tyler pulled down the collar of his shirt. Faint purple marks lined his small throat. He clutched his side as if used to protecting it. His voice cracked as he said, “He told me if I ever said anything, he’d hurt Mom worse than he hurts me. But you’re bikers. You’re tough. You can stop him.”

The table of hardened veterans felt their hearts break. They noticed the wrist brace, the bruises poorly covered with makeup, and the way Tyler carried himself like a child far too familiar with fear.

When Mom Returned

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