"What would he say?"
Jack smiled.
"He'd probably tell you to stop hanging around old men."
Mia laughed.
Then Jack became serious.
"He'd also tell you something else."
"What?"
Jack pointed at her patch.
"Never wear that because you want people to respect you."
Mia nodded.
"Wear it because you respect what it represents."
She touched the embroidered skull.
"I will."
Mia stepped outside.
The cool night air swept across her face.
Behind her, the bikers remained silent.
Nobody laughed anymore.
Nobody questioned the girl in the leather vest.
They had finally understood something.
The patch hadn't silenced the room because it was frightening.
It had silenced the room because it carried a story.
A story about sacrifice.
About loyalty.
About a father who had given everything to save someone else.
And about a seventeen-year-old girl brave enough to walk into a room full of strangers just to understand the man he had been.
Mia walked toward the parking lot.
Jack watched her disappear into the darkness.
Then he looked at the men behind him.
"Daniel would've liked her."
Ralph nodded.
"He would've been terrified of her."
Everyone laughed.
But this time, the laughter wasn't cruel.
It was warm.
It was the laughter of brothers remembering someone they had loved.
And above the door of the Rusty Nail Roadhouse, the old sign continued glowing into the night.
REAPER'S HOLLOW.
Some patches were sewn onto leather.
Some were sewn into memory.
And some carried a story powerful enough to silence an entire room.