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Just as Walter’s grief buckles his knees, Hawthorne Drive starts to shake. Not sirens—Harleys. Twenty riders in black leather ring his porch, their leader’s eyes locking on the bruise on Miriam’s face. “Inside?” he asks, voice like gravel. Minutes later, the thieves reappear—two blue-hooded boys marched back between roaring bikes, jewelry in hand, police arriving too late. Then Gunner presses a skull sticker to their door: a warning…and a promise that changes their quiet street forever.
Just as Walter’s grief buckles his knees, Hawthorne Drive starts to shake. Not sirens—Harleys. Twenty riders in black leather ring his porch, their leader’s eyes...
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