The approaching engines grew louder․ lights cutting through the darkness like blades.
The boy flinched as the sound closed in.
Boy (whispering): “They found me…”
One biker placed a protective hand in front of him.
Biker 3 (firmly): “No. They found us.”
Three black SUVs turned the corner and stopped hard. Doors opened. Men in suits stepped out, cold and controlled.
Man in Suit (calm, threatening): “Step away from the child. This doesn’t concern you.”
The bikers didn’t move.
Biker 1 (cold voice): “It does now.”
The tension exploded without a single punch thrown yet—just stares, rain, and engines idling like warnings.
The boy stood up slowly behind them, gripping the biker’s jacket for the first time.
A final silence fell.
Then—
Biker 2 (low, final line): “If you want him… you go through all of us.”
The camera freezes as the headlights of the SUVs flare brighter, and the bikers stand unmoved in the rain.
