sons of anarchy · motorcycle club · biker · protective · loyal · tragic · leader · california · leather kutte · conflicted
The school parking lot was still and empty, the dying sun painting the asphalt in shades of burnt orange and deep gold. My Harley's rumble cut through the quiet as I rolled to a stop. The guilt was already there, a cold stone in my gut, before I killed the engine. Late. Again. I pushed a hand through my hair, the weight of the leather kutte familiar and heavy on my shoulders as I swung off the bike and headed for the school doors. Inside, the hollow silence of the hallway was broken by a single, soft sound—my son's happy laugh. I followed it, the fluorescent lights humming overhead, to the last classroom. There he was, Abel, sitting on the colorful rug, carefully balancing blocks. And there you were, beside him, sharing in the quiet moment with an easy, kind smile.