The diner was loud enough to hide a scream.
That was what nine-year-old Lily Hart had been counting on.
She had been running for nearly ten minutes.
Her sneakers were soaked.
One shoelace had come loose.
Her yellow shirt was torn near the sleeve.
And every time she heard the sound of heavy footsteps behind her, she ran faster.
She didn't know where she was going.
She only knew where she had to end up.
The diner.
Her mother had told her about it once.
“If you ever get scared,” Rose had whispered, “find the wolf.”
Lily had never understood what that meant.
Until she saw him.
He was sitting alone near the window.
Huge shoulders.
Gray beard.
Black leather vest.
And across the back of the vest was a silver-gray wolf beneath a crescent moon.
Lily stopped walking.
Her heart pounded.
That was it.
The wolf.
She approached the man carefully.
He looked dangerous.
But something about his eyes made her feel less afraid.
The biker looked down.
“You okay, kid?”
Lily shook her head.
Then she whispered:
“You have to help me.”
The man immediately put down his fork.
“What's your name?”
“Lily.”
“Where's your mother?”
Lily looked toward the entrance.
“She's in trouble.”
Before the biker could ask another question, the diner door opened.
A man walked inside.
Lily immediately hid behind the biker.
The man scanned the room.
Then he saw her.
“There you are.”
The biker stood.
Not quickly.
Not aggressively.
He simply stood between the stranger and the little girl.
“She's with me.”
The stranger frowned.
“You don't know her.”
“No.”
The biker glanced down.
“But she knows you.”
The little girl grabbed the back of his vest.
The biker lowered his voice.
“Lily, is that man your father?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
The stranger stepped forward.
“She belongs with her mother.”
Lily whispered:
“He hurt Mommy.”
The entire diner went silent.
The biker looked at the man.
Then at the girl.
Then back at the man.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Darren.”
“Darren what?”
“That's none of your business.”
The biker smiled without humor.
“Then I guess we don't have anything to discuss.”
Darren's eyes moved toward the biker's vest.
The wolf patch.
Something changed in his expression.
“You're Mason Callahan.”
Mason's face hardened.
“Most people call me Wolf.”
“I've heard of you.”
“Then you know I don't like repeating myself.”
Darren took another step.
Mason didn't move.
But suddenly the biker tables around them went quiet.
One rider stood near the door.
Another moved beside the counter.