Page 2 of Tiny's Testament
She’s barely older than I am, bruised and tied to a radiator, her eyes glassy but still pleading. A Hellhound prospect looms over her with a belt wrapped around his fist.
I don’t think. I just move.
My punch shatters his nose, and the belt drops from his hand. The crack of bone fills the small room, sharp and ugly. I cut her loose and try to get her to my bike, but she’s too light, her skin cold and damp under my hands. She makes a broken sound that might be “please,” and I tell her we’re almost there, even though I don’t know if that’s true.
She barely makes it a dozen feet before her legs give out. I drop beside her and press my hands to the wounds, but the blood keeps flowing. I taste iron in the air, in my mouth, in everything. She’s gone before I can ask her name.
When I look up, the rest of the club is standing there. No yelling. Just quiet. That quiet you hear only before something ugly happens.
The President lights a cigarette and exhales slowly. “She was property, son. You just cost us ten grand.”
I stare at him, my hands still red. “Then take it out of my patch.”
He smiles like I’ve said something stupid. “That ain’t how this works.”
They beat me until I stop trying to stand. Every kick and punch lands on my ribs, jaw, and knees. Each hit feels like a verdict. I hear my bones pop like firecrackers, and my own breath whistles through blood. The smell of cigarettes and sweat fills my lungs until the world goes gray.
When it’s over, the Road Captain I once trusted kneels beside me, his voice low. “You can leave and live, or you can stay and be buried next to her. Decide.”
I leave.
I crawl for miles before a trucker pulls over and hauls me into his cab. I’ve got cracked ribs, and my face is nearly swollen shut, but the worst damage isn’t visible. The Hellhounds taught me how to fight and ride, but they also taught me how quickly a brotherhood can turn into ownership.
After I’m healed, I ride for days. The desert stretches endlessly around me, and the engine’s vibration is the only steady thing in my life. I promised Bandit I’d save him, and I failed. I promised that girl the same thing, and I failed again. It’s a debt I’ll spend the rest of my life paying.
When I finally find a club that fights for something other than greed, I don’t hesitate.
Years later, Los Angeles hums beneath my tires, and the wind carries the scent of ocean salt and gasoline. A scent that means home.
The Hellhounds are just ghosts now, buried in the desert where they belong. But ghosts don’t stay gone. They ride in the quiet spaces between heartbeats, whispering every time I save someone too broken to stand.
The engine drowns them most days, but never for long. When the noise fades, guilt rushes back in.
The Royal Bastards gave me a family that bleeds for the right reasons. Capone calls it loyalty. I call it penance.
Penance for every stray animal I feed. For every woman I pull back from the edge. For every brother I shield from a bullet. It’s me trying to outrun the boy who couldn’t save a dog or a girl.
It never works, but I keep riding anyway.
I tell myself that protecting people is enough. If I stand between the fire and everyone else, the ghosts will quiet down. That biting back is the same as healing.
But it isn’t.
Mercy got Bandit killed. Doing nothing got that girl killed. So I became the kind of man who never hesitates, never softens, never needs.
I protect what can’t protect itself because I know what happens when you look away.
What I don’t know yet is how to let someone stand beside me without bracing for the loss.
I know how to fight for someone, but I don’t know how to let them fight for me.
1
TINY
Present
The world’s still half asleep when I roll into Los Angeles, the horizon bleeding orange behind the skyline while smog hangs low over the freeways, tinted pink by the streetlights. The city never rests. It just shifts its rhythm, the hum rising slow and irritated like it’s waking up pissed off but too tired to show it yet. I keep the throttle low, the wind cool against my face, the steady rumble beneath me strong enough to quiet most of the noise in my head.
