The whole bar went silent.

One biker slowly stood.

Another lowered his drink without making a sound.

The boy stayed frozen beside the table, his eyes fixed on the bright doorway like something might step through it any second.

The gray-bearded biker looked at the photo again.

His thumb brushed over Marcus Wolfe’s name.

Then he looked at the boy’s face.

Same eyes.

Same jaw.

Same fear he had seen once before, years ago.

“What’s your name, kid?”

The boy swallowed.

“Noah.”

The biker’s breath caught.

Marcus had said that name once.

If I ever have a son, I’ll call him Noah.

The biker slowly placed the photo on the table.

“You’re Marcus’s boy.”

Noah’s lips trembled.

“He told me not to trust anyone. Only the wolf.”

The biker’s eyes darkened.

For a moment, he didn’t look like a stranger anymore.

He looked like someone who had failed a family once and would burn the world before doing it again.

He gently moved Noah behind him.

Outside, footsteps stopped near the door.

Noah clutched the back of his vest.

The biker lifted his eyes.

Calm.

Quiet.

Dangerous.

“Lock the door.”