CHAPTER I – THE MAN AT THE GATE
CHAPTER I – THE MAN AT THE GATE
The biker’s phone was still pressed to his ear.
No one moved.
Not the teachers. Not the parents. Not even the kids who had been laughing seconds earlier.
Only the bullied boy—small, pale, shaking—stood frozen beside him.
The biker spoke quietly.
“Yeah. I’m here.”
A pause.
His eyes never left the child.
Then he added, “School gate. East entrance.”
He ended the call.
The silence that followed felt wrong, like the air had been pulled out of the yard.
One teacher stepped forward, voice shaking but firm.
“Sir, you need to leave immediately. We’ve called the police.”
The biker didn’t look at her.
He just said, “Good.”
May you like
That word made no sense.
And that made it worse.
