47 BIKERS SHOWED UP TO WALK MY 5-YEAR-OLD SON INTO KINDERGARTEN AFTER HIS FATHER WAS K.i.L.L.E.D RIDING HIS MOTORCYCLE TO WORK

He runs back inside, waving at the bikers like they’re rockstars.

Bear chuckles. “Kid’s got spirit.”

“He gets it from his dad,” I say softly.

We stand there a moment longer, watching the school door slowly swing shut behind Tommy.

The bikes roar to life again, one by one, a chain reaction of sound and brotherhood. As they ride off, each one raises a fist or gives a quick salute.

And I know, deep in my soul, that my son will never be alone.

Not with the wind at his back.

Not with the legacy his father left behind.

And not with 47 leather-clad angels riding beside him into whatever comes next.