A group of bikers target a teenager, clueless about his true identity—and they quickly regret their mistake…

It was a breezy Saturday evening at a small park on the edge of Fairfield, Connecticut, the kind of evening where families gathered, kids played soccer, and teens sat on benches with earbuds in, scrolling through their phones. Sixteen-year-old Michael was one of them, sitting by himself under a tall oak tree.

His younger brother Jordan was finishing up soccer practice, and Michael had promised his mum he’d wait to walk him home. Michael, wearing a fitted black suit with a crisp white shirt and polished black shoes, kept to himself, casually flipping through a book he’d brought along. He didn’t look up when the rumble of motorcycles broke through the air.

It was the type of sound that usually didn’t mean much, just a group of bikers passing through, their engines echoing louder than they should in a quiet space. But tonight, something was different. The bikers didn’t pass through.

Instead, they rolled in, parking their bikes near the soccer field. Five of them, dressed in leather jackets and dark jeans, stood out in sharp contrast to the families gathered around. They weren’t laughing or chatting among themselves.

They were scanning the park, their eyes locking onto Michael as if he were a target. Michael noticed them too. He glanced up briefly, catching their stares.

He wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but the way they looked at him made his stomach knot slightly. He turned back to his book, forcing himself to stay calm. But calm doesn’t last long when you’re being watched.

The bikers didn’t stay by their bikes. One of them, a burly man with a shaved head, nudged his friend and started walking toward Michael. And that’s when things began to shift.

Michael felt the man’s heavy footsteps before he saw him clearly. He glanced up, only to find the burly biker flanked by two others, their expressions unreadable but intent. The group moved with purpose, their leather boots crunching against the gravel pathway as they closed the distance.

Michael’s heart thudded in his chest, but his face remained calm. His mom always said, never let them see you sweat. He thought of her voice, steady and grounding, as he dogeared the page in his book and set it aside…