"Let him rest," Diesel said. "We need to keep him warm and monitor the hand. He's stable, but he needs sleep."
Luther stood. He looked at Specter.
"Where does he come from?"
"Don't know yet. 3 weeks on the street by the look of him. Split lip, bruising, eviction, I'd guess. The kind where you don't have anywhere left to go."
Luther's expression went very still.
"How old?"
"15, 16."
"Same age as..."
Luther stopped. Didn't finish.
Didn't need to.
Everyone in that room knew what he was thinking.
Same age as Reese would be now.
The daughter he'd lost in 2009. The daughter whose custody file had closed while he was still fighting to get stable enough to bring her home.
The system had failed him once.
It had just tried to fail this boy the same way.
And somehow, through a storm and a collapse and a seven-year-old girl's faith, that boy had ended up here.
At this door.
Holding Luther's second chance.
"We need to know his story," Luther said.
Voice steady again. Presidential.
"Soon as he's awake, full story. Where he's been. Who failed him. How he ended up on the street."
"We'll get it," Specter said.
"Good."
Luther looked down at Lily.
She was falling asleep now. Head against his chest. Small hand curled in his vest.
The birthday card was still visible in the breast pocket.
Daddy's angels.
The ink still bleeding.
He looked at the card for a long moment.
Then he looked at Emmett, unconscious now, breathing steady. Diesel adjusting the thermal blankets around him with the kind of precision that came from saving lives in worse conditions than this.
"He doesn't go back to the street," Luther said.
Not loud, but everyone heard it.
"Not tonight. Not while I'm president of this chapter."
Specter nodded once.
"Understood. When he wakes up, I'll talk to him. Find out what happened. Who did this."
"And then..."
Luther paused.
His hand tightened slightly on Lily's back.
"And then we're going to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."
"You think there's more?"
"There's always more," Luther said quietly. "You know that."
Specter did know that. They all did.
That's why they were here.
Emmett woke at 2:17 a.m.
The clubhouse was quiet. Low lights.
Most of the brothers had gone home.
Just four still there. Diesel, Sandstone, a younger guy in his late 20s named Rimshot, who was documenting something on a laptop, and Luther.
Luther was in a chair next to the cot. Same position he'd been in for the last 3 hours.
Lily asleep on a separate cot 6 feet away. Blankets piled high. Breathing soft and even.
Emmett opened his eyes slowly.
The ceiling came into focus. Wood beams. A ceiling fan that wasn't moving.