The road was empty when Tyler heard it.

Not traffic.
Not wind.

A cry.

Thin. Broken. Too small to belong out here.

He killed the engine fast. Silence swallowed everything.

Rex, his shepherd, stiffened beside the bike, ears forward.

The sound came again—from the ditch.

Tyler slid down the muddy slope without thinking, boots sinking deep. His heart was already pounding like he knew what he’d find.

A bundle of soaked rags lay tangled in weeds.

Moving.

“No… no way…”

He dropped to his knees and pulled the cloth open.

A newborn girl.

Tiny. Blue lips. Shaking.

Alone.

For one second, rage burned through him so hard he couldn’t breathe.

Who leaves a baby here?

But anger didn’t matter.

Warmth did.

He peeled off his vest and pulled her against his chest, wrapping leather and body heat around her fragile frame.

“Okay, little one,” he whispered, voice rough. “Nobody’s hurting you. I’ve got you.”

She gasped.

Then cried—soft but alive.

The most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

He steadied her tiny head with one hand, rocking gently while Rex stood guard at his back.

“Shh… safe now,” he murmured, tears mixing with dirt.

Her breathing matched his.

In. Out. In. Out.

Far away, sirens finally rose.

But Tyler didn’t move.

Not until he felt her heartbeat strong against his chest.

Sometimes heroes don’t wear capes.

Sometimes they just stop the bike…

and refuse to leave a cry unanswered.