Hammer stared.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then he asked quietly.
“Were you there?”
Rook laughed bitterly.
“You're serious?”
“Answer me.”
The older biker's face reddened.
“She's seven years old.”
Hammer's expression hardened.
“I know exactly how old she is.”
Rook took a step forward.
“You think trauma makes a child a reliable investigator?”
Hammer looked toward the hospital doors.
“No.”
For a moment, Rook seemed relieved.
Then Hammer continued.
“That's why the police need the evidence. All of it.”
Rook stopped smiling.
Hammer looked directly at him.
“Every invoice. Every message. Every warning somebody brought to us.”
The older man's jaw tightened.
“Henry.”
“Don't.”
Rook stared.
Hammer took a breath.
“I should've given those records to the detective months ago.”
For a moment, silence stretched between them.
Then Rook whispered.
“You'd destroy your own club over this?”
Hammer looked toward the Iron Ravens emblem on his friend's vest.
A black bird.
Wings spread.
A symbol he'd once believed meant loyalty, protection, and the certainty that no member would be abandoned in a time of need.
Then he looked toward the hospital.
A frightened little girl had just pointed at that symbol and begged him to keep its wearer away from her mother.
Hammer's voice became very quiet.
“If protecting this club means letting a child stay afraid of the truth, then we built the wrong kind of brotherhood.”
Rook stared.
Then he turned toward the nearest motorcycle.
Hospital security was already nearby, documenting the incident and responding to the staff's request for assistance. Hammer didn't attempt to hold Rook by force. He gave security the man's name, asked that the incident be reported to the investigating detective, and made clear that any further interaction with the child should be prevented.
Rook walked away without speaking.
But Hammer knew the conversation wasn't over.
He also knew the next person he needed to face wasn't Rook.
It was Detective Naomi Fields.
And this time, he would tell her everything.
Hammer called Naomi from the hospital's administrative office.
He didn't ask whether she had time.
He told the receptionist that he needed to correct a statement he'd given during the investigation into Emma Bennett's assault, then waited while the call was transferred.
Naomi answered in a voice that was controlled but tired.
“Detective Fields.”
“It's Henry Dawson.”
A brief silence followed.
“Mr. Dawson.”