The courtyard exploded with shock.
“What?!”
Several bikers nearly dropped their coffee cups.
Jack stared at the boy as if the world had stopped spinning.
“What did you say?”
The child reached into his pocket and pulled out an old photograph.
Jack grabbed it.
His knees almost gave out.
In the picture stood a young biker with Jack’s eyes and smile.
His son.
The son he had not seen in twenty years.
Tears filled Jack’s eyes.
“Michael…”
The boy nodded.
“That’s my dad.”
Jack’s voice cracked.
“He’s alive?”
The boy looked down.
“Barely.”
Without saying another word, Jack sprinted toward his motorcycle.
“Everyone move!”
Engines roared to life.
Within seconds, dozens of bikers raced across the city.
They arrived at a small apartment building.
Inside, Michael lay unconscious in a hospital bed surrounded by medical equipment.
Jack walked slowly to his side.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Michael’s eyes opened.
He looked at the crowd.
Then at the little boy.
Finally, at Jack.
A single tear rolled down his cheek.
“Dad…”
Jack grabbed his son’s hand.
“I should have found you years ago.”
The room filled with tears.
The kitten jumped onto the bed and curled up beside Michael.
For the first time in decades, three generations of the same family were together.
And the tiny kitten that almost got sold had brought them all home.
