A tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a black leather jacket covered in patches pushed through the group. His beard was short, his eyes sharp and dark, and his presence carried a quiet authority stronger than shouting.
Emily ran to him.
“Dad!”
Victor Moreno lifted her immediately, checking her arms, her face, her knees. When he was sure she was safe, his eyes turned toward the injured boy on the ground.
“Was it him?” Victor asked calmly.
Emily shook her head firmly.
“No! He saved me. He stood in front of me. He didn’t even know me.”
The alley went silent.
Victor walked slowly toward Lucas and crouched beside him.
“You’re the one who took the beating for my daughter?” he asked.
Lucas tried to sit up but winced in pain.
“She was crying,” he whispered. “That’s all.”
Victor studied him carefully.
“And do you know who I am?”
“I do now.”
“And you still did it?”
Lucas nodded weakly.
“Yes.”
Emily tugged on her father’s sleeve.
“Dad, help him.”
Victor stood up and glanced at the bikers behind him.
“Jake,” he said to one of them, “find those two boys. I want their names before midnight.”
Then he turned to another.
“Marcus, get him on a bike. Carefully.”
Strong arms lifted Lucas.