“This was my son’s,” the big one called Savage said quietly, helping Tommy into the vest. “He earned it when he was about your age. Cancer got him too, four years ago. But he said the vest had to go to another warrior. Been waiting for the right kid.”

Tommy ran his small fingers over the patches, eyes wide. “This was really his?”

“Really his. His name was Marcus. Bravest kid I ever knew. Until tonight.” Savage’s voice cracked slightly. “Until I met you.”

Security arrived – three guards ready for trouble. They saw the bikers, saw Margaret, and reached for their radios.

“Stand down,” Margaret heard herself say. “False alarm.”

The guards looked confused. “But you called about intruders—”

“I was mistaken. These gentlemen are… scheduled visitors.”

“At 3 AM?”

“Special circumstances. You can