Moments later, a woman stepped out of the bathroom. She walked carefully, like someone used to hiding pain. She spotted Tyler at the bikers’ table, and panic flashed across her face.
“Tyler! I’m so sorry—he’s bothering you,” she said, rushing over. The men noticed the heavy makeup on her wrist, smudged enough to reveal bruises beneath.
It wasn’t a suggestion.
The woman hesitated but finally sat, pulling Tyler close. Mike leaned forward, his voice low and steady. “Is someone hurting you or your boy?”
Her composure cracked. Tears filled her eyes. “Please,” she whispered. “You don’t understand. He’ll kill us.”
“Look around this table,” Mike replied firmly. “Every man here has stood up to bullies before. Every one of us has protected the innocent. That’s who we are. Now tell us—are you in danger?”
Her silent, trembling nod was all the confirmation they needed.
The Confrontation
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