The thundering growl of the motorbikes was nearly drowned out by the sound of the boys frantic heartbeat. Twilight hung low over the cul-de-sac, painting everything in deep, gold shadows, as a small boy sprinted into the street. He skidded on his knees, eyes wide as dinner plates, frozen in terror.
A big, black Triumph motorbike screeched to a halt missing him by inches. The lead rider, a burly man in battered leathers, didnt even bother with the kickstand. He jumped off instantly as the boy, sobbing, choked out, Please! Please help my mum!
The bikers glance flicked from the terrified boy to the semi-detached house nearby. In the porchway, a man stood glaring, pint glass in hand, already spoiling for an argument. The biker strode forward, boots thumping against the flagstones.
Stay behind me, alright? he told the boy, his voice firm but gentle.
He marched up to the front door, unfazed, as the man inside bellowed, Oi! What do you think youre doing? There was no pause. With a single, brutal kick, the door crashed open, glass shards spraying everywhere.
Inside, he followed the muffled sobs echoing from somewhere deep in the little house. And what he found changed everything.
There was that stale stench beer, sweat, and something darker and shards of glass crunched under the bikers heavy boots as he pressed on.
Behind him, the little lad was clinging to the back of his jacket, breath shaky with panic.
The bloke from the porch was first to recover. Youre bloody mental, mate
The biker turned, just enough so the man caught a real look at his rugged face.
He went silent.
Because this wasnt just anyone.
This was Gabriel Reaper Kane.
Six foot four, silver streaks through his scruffy beard, a scar running jagged down his neck. The kind of bloke whispered about in pubs and behind the dodgiest railway stations. The kind of man you never wanted to cross.
The drunks bravado evaporated right there.
Reaper ignored him, heading straight for the crying.
The kid tugged desperately at his vest. Shes through there!
A faint crash rattled behind the far door, followed by silence.
Reapers jaw tightened.
He closed the distance in three strides and shoved the door wide.
Everything froze.
A woman sat slumped beside an overturned chair, bruises mottling her face. One wrist bound with a fraying extension cord. But what stopped Reaper in his tracks wasnt her.
It was the little girl pressed against her maybe four years old, clutching a tatty stuffed bunny.
And around her neck
a silver coin.
Reaper went perfectly still.
The woman glanced up, recognition dawning, and her face paled.
No she whispered, voice barely audible.
The man from the hall stumbled in. You need to get out, now!
Reapers focus never left the girls coin.
Silver, round, etched with a black wolf. The patch logo of the Iron Wolves motorcycle club. Only true members had those coins. And only one man had ever ordered tiny versions for kids.
Daniel Kane. His brother.
Gone these past eight years.
The girl looked up at Reaper with frightened blue eyes. Then, impossibly, she lifted the bunny and whispered, Uncle Gabe?
The room spun sideways.
The drunk froze in place.
The woman started to shake her head No, no, no
Reaper crouched down, voice trembling. What did you call me?
She gripped the rabbit tighter, lips trembling. Mummy said if it ever got really bad look for the man with the wolf.
The boy behind them looked bewildered now. Mum?
The woman broke into sobs. Because the terrified boy whod dashed for help wasnt her son at all. He was her daughters best friend from next door. Hed gone to find help, when nobody else would.
Reaper went down on one knee by the little girl, heart breaking for her.
And whats your name, love?
Emma.
It hit him like a punch to the chest.
Everybody thought Daniels little girl died in that fire that was the story.
The woman looked shattered now. He lied, she croaked.
Reaper turned, cold certainty settling over him, and understood at last. Not the real dad. A stepdad. The sort who preyed on women cut off from help.
The bloke tried to recover. Shes confused.
Reaper straightened, filling the hallway with his presence.
Shes my wife, the man protested.
Wrong answer.
Reaper moved in a flash. The boy screamed. Next moment, the drunk went smashing straight through the little hall table bits of splintered pine everywhere.
The house shook.
Reaper dragged him up by his shirtfront. Daniel was my brother.
Colour drained from the mans face as he finally comprehended what kind of night hed signed up for.
Behind Reaper, Emma started crying harder not out of fear. Out of knowing. Because for the first time since losing nearly everything, someone had come for her.
Someone who truly belonged to her family.