Chapter 1
“Watch where you’re crawling.” Her heels clicked once, echoed, and no one moved. The woman on the floor tried to push herself up—hands shaking—dignity fighting pain. Then—boots, heavy, measured, entering the frame. The camera whipped up—a biker, still, unmoving. The crowd instinctively split around him. No words. He bent down slowly, picked up the crutches, set them beside her, careful and controlled, and helped her sit upright. She didn’t look at him yet, didn't dare. The rich girl scoffed, “And who are you supposed to be?” Nothing, no answer, just silence stretching tighter.
Then—a soft slide from the torn bag, something small hitting the floor. The camera pushed in—a bracelet, silver, worn, engraved. The biker saw it and everything in him stopped. His hand hovered, then picked it up slowly, too carefully. Close-up—the engraving caught the light, his breath changed. “…No,” barely a whisper. The woman on the floor finally looked up, eyes wide, shaking, searching his face like she already knew. “Daniel…?” The name landed heavy, too heavy.
The crowd leaned in—frozen. The biker didn’t answer; he pulled off his glove, slow, deliberate, revealing his wrist—a scar. Exact, matching, same shape, same place, same past.
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