The thunder of engines filled the evening air, drowning out even the terrified pounding of a boys heart. As the sun disappeared behind the rooftops, painting the road with long golden streaks, a small boy flew into the middle of the street. He tumbled to his knees, his face twisted in sheer fear.
A heavy black Triumph bike screeched to a halt barely a hair’s breadth from him. Its rider, a man wrapped in battered leathers and an air of danger, abandoned even the kickstand. He swung off as the boy sobbed desperately, Please! Please, help my mum!
The bikers gaze darted from the tearful boy to a modest red-brick house nearby. Inside, a man loomed in the doorway, tankard in hand, face twisted into a hateful sneer. He looked ready for a punch up. Without so much as a pause, the biker strode forward, each bootstep thudding across the tarmac.
Stay just behind me, he told the boy.
The man on the porch stepped forward, shouting, Oi! What dyou want? But the biker strode on. In a single powerful kick, he smashed the front door open, splintering wood and scattering glass.
He strode through the narrow, gloomy hallwayguided by the muffled sound of a womans sobbing. But what waited at the back of the house would unravel the whole purpose of his visit.
The hallway reeked of stale ale, sweat, and raw fear.
Shards scrunched beneath his boots. The little boy gripped the back of his jacket, breath coming in shallow, frantic gasps.
The surly man recovered first. You bloody lunatic
The biker shot him a sideways glancejust enough for the man to truly see him.
He froze on the spot.
For this was no stranger. It was Gabriel Reaper Kane.
Six foot four if an inch. Flecks of grey in his beard. An old scar etched along his neck.
The kind of name whispered quietly in corners of old pubs and by men who knew trouble.
The kind of man who ended disputes for good.
The drunks bravado crumbled.
Reaper carried on, pressing towards the sobs, towards the back room.
The little boy tugged at his jacket, nearly pleading. Shes in there.
A faint crash sounded from the far room.
Then silence.
Reapers jaw tightened.
He crossed the hall in three broad strides and slammed open the last door.
Time seemed to stop altogether.
There, on the floor by an overturned chair, a woman sat. Bruises stained her cheek. An extension cord hung loose around one wrist.
But that wasnt what left Reaper rooted to the spot.
It was the small girl by her side. Not more than four, curled up against her mother, clutching a well-loved bunny.
And hanging round the girls necka silver coin.
Reapers entire body locked into stillness.
The woman looked up, eyes full of misery, and recognized the figure in the doorway.
Every trace of colour drained from her face. No…
The man staggered up behind them, blustering, Get out of my house, now!
But Reaper stood motionless, eyes fixed only on the childs coin.
Round, silver, engraved with a black wolf.
The patch from the Iron Wolves Riders Club.
Only true club members carried those. And only one man had made tiny ones for children.
His brother.
Daniel Kane.
Dead these eight years.
The small girl gazed up at Reaper, fear quivering in her eyes.
Then, impossibly, she lifted her bunny and whispered, Uncle Gabe?
The floor seemed to lurch beneath his feet.
The man fell silent. The woman shook her head helplessly. No, no…
Reaper moved forward slowly, voice breaking with old wounds.
What did you just call me?
The little girl gripped her bunny tighter. Mum said if something bad happened… to find the man with the wolf.
The boy at Reapers back now looked confused. Mum?
The woman began to weep. For the frightened boy whod dashed into the road was not her own son, but her daughters best mate from next door. He was the only one brave enough to fetch help when everyone else turned away.
Reaper knelt by the girl, all his scars suddenly meaningless.
Whats your name, love?
…Emma, she whispered.
The name hit like a blow.
Daniels little girl was believed to have perished with him in the fire. That was the story told to all.
The woman slumped, broken. He lied, she breathed.
Reaper turned on the man behind, finally understanding. Not the father. The stepfather. The sort that prey on lonely women longing for rescue.
The man tried to bluff. Shes mixed up.
Reaper stood, suddenly filling the thin hallway.
The man shrank away. Oi, listen mate
Did you strike her?
The question was soft. Worse than if hed shouted.
The man swallowed. Shes my wife.
Wrong answer.
Reaper moved quicker than thought; the boy behind him wailed in fright.
One second the stepfather stood, the next he crashed through the hallway table with a splintering smash.
The house seemed to shake.
Reaper gripped him by the throat of his shirt and hoisted him up, nearly off his feet.
Daniel was my brother.
The mans eyes emptied of all confidence. The truth of his miscalculation set in.
Behind Reaper, Emma broke downnot in terror, but out of a desperate, aching recognition.
Because for the very first time since that dreadful night,
Someone from her family had at last come for her.
