RYDER
As I walked toward the crowd, the brothers instinctively stepped aside, creating a clear path for me without anyone saying a word. The sea of leather jackets slowly parted until I reached the center of the gathering, where a worn wooden podium had already been set up.
I turned to face the crowd.
More than a hundred bikers stood before me, every one of them wearing a red band tied around his head. Their expressions ranged from furious to disappointed, while a few simply looked exhausted.
Clearing my throat, I let my eyes sweep across every face.
The small sound was enough to kill the noise.
Every eye was now fixed on me.
“For every one of you to have pulled out your red bands,” I began, my voice carrying effortlessly across the gathering, “it means you have grievances.”
I paus
