The Meeting Everyone Misunderstood
Bear—no one called him by his real name anymore—had been a Marine for twenty years. After retiring, he rode with a motorcycle club, carrying memories of combat that never fully left him. To outsiders, he looked intimidating.
To Lily, he was safety. He was the one constant in her world.
One Saturday, three officers walked in. The room hushed. Lily froze. Her little face drained of color.
“Are they taking you away too?” she whispered, clutching Bear’s arm. “Like they took Daddy?”
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.
