One Saturday, three officers walked in. The room hushed. Lily froze. Her little face drained of color.
The biker’s jaw tightened. His hand, massive and scarred, rested gently on her hair. “Nobody’s taking me anywhere, sweetheart. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
But his eyes stayed sharp, watching the officers, measuring every move. Old instincts from years in combat.
The Truth Revealed
The lead officer approached cautiously. “Sir, we’ve had reports—”
“I know why you’re here,” Bear cut in, voice steady. He reached into his vest slowly, carefully, pulling out a folded, laminated court document. He handed it over without argument.
The officer read in silence. His expression changed. He looked at Bear, then at Lily, then back at the page.
“You served with her father,” the officer said quietly.
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