Behind them, 900 leather-clad men and women stood silent, many crying openly.
Javi finally pulled away, wiped his face, and looked at Noah — really looked.
“Where’s your family, son?”
“Just my nana. She’s at work. Phones are down.”
Javi nodded once — a decision made.
He turned to his vice president.
“Find out everything. Right now.”
Three Days Later — Desert Rose Mobile Home Park
At 10:07 a.m. the ground began to rumble again.
This time it wasn’t an earthquake.
It was 917 motorcycles rolling in formation down the access road.
They filled every inch of the trailer park — shoulders, empty lots, even the dry drainage ditch behind unit 32.
Engines cut one by one until silence fell like snow.
Javi stepped off his bike, lifted Mia down (cast and all), and walked straight to unit 9.
Noah was sitting on the front steps in new sneakers (no cardboard), new jeans, and the child-sized leather vest Javi had made overnight: Iron Vipers patch on the back. Below it, in red thread: Little Brother for Life.
Clara stood behind him, hands shaking.
Javi crouched so he was eye-level with Noah.
“Brother,” he said, voice thick, “we came to tell you something.”
He turned to face the sea of riders.