The slap cracked across his cheek. His cap tumbled to the floor, coffee spilling across the table. A waitress gasped; a mother shielded her child’s eyes. The biker chuckled darkly. “Should’ve stayed gone, soldier.”

No one moved.

The old man bent down, retrieved his cap, wiped his sleeve clean, then leaned toward the waitress. “Phone, please. I need to reach my son.”

He dialed quietly, speaking only a few words, before settling back into his chair, gaze steady at the window.

Without hesitation, he approached the biker, flipped open a wallet. A sergeant major’s badge gleamed under the fluorescent lights.