The old biker didn’t blink.

For a moment, he looked less like a dangerous man and more like someone who had just been handed back a ghost.

“Rose is dead,” he whispered.

The girl shook her head.

“She said you’d say that.”

The young man in denim took one step closer.

“She’s confused. I’m taking her home.”

The girl grabbed the biker’s vest with both hands.

“No. He’s lying.”

The biker slowly looked up at the young man.

“Then why is she scared of you?”

The young man’s jaw tightened.

Nobody moved.

The girl pulled a damp folded note from her pocket and pushed it into the biker’s hand.

He opened it.

His face went pale before he even finished reading.

The girl whispered,

“Mom said only her brother would know what it means.”

The biker’s eyes filled.

“Rose was my sister.”

The diner went dead silent.

The young man stepped backward.

The biker stood, placing the girl fully behind him.

His voice was low now.

“Where is she?”

The girl looked toward the door, shaking.

“She’s outside.”

The biker’s breath caught.

“She came with you?”

The girl shook her head as fresh tears fell.

“No.”

Her voice broke.

“She’s in his trunk.”