They Called Us the Worst Kind of Men—Savages in Leather,
PART 1: Nightmares on Chrome, Savages in Leather
Nightmares on Chrome, Savages in Leather.
That was the name that people gave us.
Men like us, they claimed, belonged in police briefings and cautionary stories. That when engines screamed too near, mothers crossed the street and shut their doors because of us. Before we even spoke, they made up the scenario based on the leather, the chains, and the scars.
They might have been correct once.
But I discovered something else that night, after midnight, when the garage descended into the kind of quiet that only walls covered with oil can experience.
Not all monsters ride motorbikes.
They occasionally return home upset while wearing clean clothing.
When the Iron Cross Garage did eventually become silent, it was much after midnight. The final engine was now cool. The final instrument had been cleaned and stored. I had just put the torque wrench back in its drawer after completing the process of tightening the belt on a rebuilt Softail.
I heard it at that point.
A sound so faint I believed it was a creation of my imagination.
A murmur.
slim. Broken. hardly surviving.
“Please, keep him from finding us.”
I went cold.
Caleb Rourke is my name. Most people refer to me as Hollow. The Black Halo Saints, a club that most people pretend not to see during the day and hope no one notices at night, is the group I run with.
We’re not perfect.
However, we are also not demons.
No more.
They were close to the open bay entrance when I emerged from the darkness.
Four children.
Not teenagers attempting to seem tough.
Runaways aren’t being brave.
Kids. Barefoot and trembling.
A woman who seemed barely conscious was slumped against a dented tool cabinet behind them. She saturated her clothing in blood. Already, one eye was swollen shut. Her respiration was irregular and shallow.
As though he had discovered that wailing too loudly just made matters worse, the youngest youngster clutched to her waist and sobbed silently.
Slowly, I raised both hands.
“You’re alright,” I said.
“You’ve come to the wrong place.”
Something moved behind me.
Our mechanic, Briggs, came out of the lounge carrying a mug of scorched coffee. After a single glance at the situation, he silently put it down.
“Hollow?” he murmured.
I said, “Get Lena.”
“Now.”
Before life pulled her into our orbit, Lena worked as a military medic. She was better than any emergency room in town at patching bullet wounds and broken bones at our club these days.
The tallest child took the lead. Maybe thirteen. All jagged edges and compelled bravery.
He blurted out, “We weren’t stealing.”
“We were in hiding. from him.
I knelt down so we could see each other.
“What’s your name?”
“Evan,” he said.
That’s Mara, Lucas, and Elle, the infant. And my mother is that. Rose is her name.
Elle shuddered in a drenched hoodie. Mara had dark purple bruises on her wrist. Lucas refused to give up their mother’s sleeve.
In a matter of seconds, Lena showed up wearing gloves.
“Gunshot?” she inquired.
“No,” I replied.
“Ribs. Blant force.”
Rose stirred, her voice scarcely coherent.
“Please,” she said in a whisper.
“Avoid letting Derek discover them.”
The chamber was rocked by that name.
Briggs clenched his jaw.
“Derek Cole?”
Evan gave a nod.
“He causes her pain.”
Lena worked quickly.
“A possible concussion.” ribs that cracked. We cannot wait for an ambulance if she crashes.
I looked at the children.
“Pay close attention. Tonight, nobody touches you. That dude stays inside our gate.
The garage really came alive in less than a minute.
Locks were activated.
The engines warmed up.
Men didn’t require commands to move.
Rose hadn’t chosen us by chance.
Section 2: The Unsuitable Men to Interfere With
Rose was brought to the couch in the back office. With his hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles became white, Evan stepped next to us.
He informed me, “She said bikers hate men like him.”
“Said you would comprehend.”
intelligent woman.
After Lena steadied her, I knelt.
“Why here?” I inquired.
The patch on my vest, which featured a black skull beneath a crooked halo, caught Rose’s attention.
“You helped a girl last year… her father,” she uttered feebly. I recalled the halo.
That was sufficient.
“Get the van ready,” I instructed Lena.
“We’re heading to Mercy General.”
She looked directly into my eyes.
“He’ll be waiting, you know.”
“I’m hoping for it.”
Quietly, we rolled out.
No loud engines.
No coercion.
Just a purpose.
Lucas and Elle were nestled into the sidecar while I rode point. Rose went in the van with Evan and Mara. Every rider is on guard. Every mirror observed.
I didn’t think twice at the hospital.
I made my way directly to the nurse’s station.
She’s been assaulted. internal wounds. She has four children with her.
Our patches were examined by the nurse.
She then made a move.
As they wheeled Rose away, Evan held onto my vest.
“Will she pass away?”
“No,” I replied.
“Not this evening.”
We waited with the children. Mara needed something to focus on, so Lena braided her hair. Lucas leaned in close to one of the men as if they were old friends.
Evan chose not to sit.
He said, “He’s coming.”
“Give it to him,” I said.
Briggs’ burner buzzed at 3:12 a.m.
He said, “He’s here.”
“Brought backup.”
We left slowly.
Three of us.
Leather is silent.
Don’t hurry.
When Derek spotted us, he laughed.
He hissed, “You think you scare me?”
“I own her.”
I spoke in a calm tone.
“We are protecting them.”
Trigger moved to the front.
“You are not the owner of them.”
One of Derek’s men grabbed his jacket.
A poor decision.
Security at the hospital was already reporting it.
Derek paused.
He spat out, “This isn’t over.”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yes, it is.”
They took off running.
Minutes later, police arrived.
PART 3: Just There, Not Heroes Rose made it out alive.
Child services arrived, offering assistance rather than threats. She was recognized by a nurse. endorsed her. spoke the truth.
The bills were paid by us.
Since we could.
Derek was taken into custody two days later. weapons that are not authorized. warrants. violent past.
Eventually, cowards always fall.
The children spent some time with us.
Mara became proficient at chrome polishing.
One of the guys led Lucas everywhere.
Elle referred to Briggs as “Grandpa.”
Evan inquired about joining one day.
I advised him to first learn to be kind.
When they see us, people continue to cross the street.
Give them permission.
Because Derek and other monsters?
They ought to be terrified.
Heroes don’t always wear badges.
On sometimes, they ride into the night while sporting oil-stained jeans.
Halos are not worn by us.
They are earned by us.
