PART 2: The Little Girl Carried the Patch of a Lost Love
The roadside garage fell completely silent beneath the dim yellow lights.
Motorcycle engines clicked softly as they cooled while every biker watched the rough-looking man stare at the old leather patch in disbelief.
It was worn with age.
Faded around the edges.
But unmistakable.
The patch belonged to the Black Saints motorcycle club—
and only one person ever stitched a silver thread through the wolf emblem that way.
Anna.
The biker’s hands slowly began to shake.
Because fifteen years earlier, Anna vanished without a trace the same night rival bikers attacked their clubhouse.
Everyone believed she died in the fire.
The little girl stepped closer nervously.
“My mommy said you would recognize it.”
The biker struggled to steady his breathing.
“What did you whisper to me?”
The child lowered her eyes shyly.
“She said my daddy would know my birthday.”
The garage went dead silent.
Because the date she whispered—
was the exact night Anna disappeared.
The biker slowly stumbled backward like the air had been ripped from his lungs.
Several bikers exchanged stunned looks.
“No way…” one whispered.
The little girl looked frightened now.
“My mommy told me not to trust anyone except the man with the wolf patch.”
The biker dropped to one knee in front of her.
His voice broke completely.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Lucy.”
Tears instantly filled his eyes.
Because years ago, Anna once told him:
If we ever have a daughter…
I want to name her Lucy.
The biker covered his mouth as emotion shattered through him.
The child standing in front of him—
was his daughter.
Then Lucy carefully reached into her jacket pocket and handed him a folded note.
The moment he saw Anna’s handwriting—
his heart stopped.
If Lucy finds you…
it means I ran out of time.
The biker clenched the paper tightly while pain and fury crashed through him at once.
“Where’s your mother now?” he whispered.
Lucy’s lips trembled.
“She’s hiding.”
Outside the garage—
motorcycle headlights suddenly appeared through the darkness.
Several bikers reached for their weapons instantly.
Lucy grabbed her father’s vest tightly.
“She said bad men followed me.”
The biker slowly stood, his expression turning cold and dangerous.
Then he looked toward the approaching headlights.
And for the first time in fifteen years—
he had something worth fighting for again.
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