Chapter 2 - THE ADVICE OF A MOTHER
Mason kept his posture low, relaxed, and completely non-threatening, his dark eyes searching the little girl's frightened face with intense focus.
"Okay, Emma," Mason said softly, keeping his voice steady as a rock. "You're safe right here with us. Take a slow breath."
Before she could answer, Emma’s eyes darted past Mason’s shoulder, looking through the large, clean glass of the bakery's front window toward the sunlit street outside.
Her face drained of every last drop of color. Her small jaw quivered as a sharp gasp caught in her throat.
"He found me," Emma choked out, her voice dropping into a terrified whisper.
Mason’s eyes narrowed instantly into razor-sharp slits of ice. He slowly turned his head, following her panicked gaze out toward the quiet sidewalk, scanning the passing cars and the storefronts across the street.
Emma reached out with both hands, her tiny fingers digging tightly into the thick leather of Mason’s vest, holding onto him as if he were an anchor in a raging storm.
"Mom said if I ever got scared..." Emma sobbed softly, looking up into Mason’s tattooed face with absolute, desperate trust, "...find people with motorcycles."
The words hit Mason like a physical shockwave. His entire posture went completely rigid. The air in his lungs seemed to freeze as his mind raced to connect the dots. A mother telling her seven-year-old daughter to seek out leather-clad bikers in a moment of mortal danger wasn't a coincidence—it was a specific, deliberate instruction meant for one specific group of men.
Mason reached out, gently wrapping his broad, warm hand over Emma’s trembling fingers resting on his vest.
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"Where’s your mother, Emma?" Mason asked, his voice low, intense, and laced with an urgent, dark edge.
Emma shook her head frantically, her tangled brown hair falling across her face as fresh tears fell onto her floral dress. "I don’t know," she cried softly. "I haven't seen her... since last night. He locked her in the room and I ran through the window."
