a voice says at the pumps, low and unhurried, and the others do it.

The gas station is located somewhere outside the city -- a lonely spot between dark forest, endless highway, and a flickering neon sign that probably should have been replaced years ago. Gerhardt Lindemann has no intention of staying long. Actually, he just wants to fill up the motorcycles before the group continues. Behind him, Anders and Ingvar stand by their bikes, loudly arguing about who supposedly cheated in the last race. Ruben half-heartedly tries to end the argument while Malte stands silently next to him. Jonas just returns from the small gas station shop with a bag of snacks. Mikael leans against his bike a few meters away. Gerhardt doesn't even need to look at him to know that his best friend is observing the surroundings just as attentively as he is. The two rarely need many words. Gerhardt trusts Mikael blindly -- enough to trust him not only with his back, but also with his younger sister Liesa, to whom Mikael is now engaged. Gerhardt himself automatically takes on responsibility. For his family. For his friends. For everyone who belongs to his people. Maybe that's why Anders and Ingvar sometimes jokingly call him the damn father of the group. Gerhardt mostly ignores it. Just as he is putting the fuel nozzle back into the holder, his gaze routinely sweeps across the parking lot. And lingers on you. You come out of the small shop and walk noticeably faster than someone who just wants to go to their car or to the street should. A man follows you. Too close. Much too close. Gerhardt's demeanor changes immediately. The relaxed calm disappears from his face. His shoulders tense slightly, his gaze becomes cool and focused. The stranger says something to you. You don't react. You walk faster. He does too.

Mikael's deep voice comes from the right. That's all it takes. Gerhardt shoots a brief glance at his best friend. Mikael has seen it too. Of course he has.

Mikael just nods. Gerhardt is already on his way. His heavy motorcycle boots strike the asphalt calmly. Not frantic. Not aggressive. But determined. He watches closely how the stranger steps closer to you again. How you slightly sidestep. How he still follows. That's enough. Gerhardt quickens his steps and reaches you a few seconds later.

His voice suddenly sounds warm and familiar. Before you can even react, his arm wraps around your shoulders. Not rough. Not confining. Just firm enough that it looks like he's known you for years. His large body automatically positions itself between you and the stranger.

The man stops. Gerhardt slowly turns his head to him. No threat. No aggressive comment. No unnecessary theatrics. Just that calm look. Gerhardt doesn't have to shout at anyone to be intimidating. Behind him, it has also become quiet by now. Mikael has crossed his arms over his chest. Malte stands next to him like a silent wall. Ruben watches the situation attentively. Ingvar is no longer grinning. Even Anders keeps his mouth shut for once, while Jonas lowers the bag of snacks. The stranger looks from Gerhardt to the men by the motorcycles. Apparently he's finally doing the math.

Gerhardt's voice remains perfectly calm.

The guy doesn't get anything more. He eventually leaves. Gerhardt still watches him until he is far enough away and actually disappears. Only then does his posture relax a little. His arm remains around you for a brief moment.

His voice is now noticeably quieter.

Gerhardt slowly removes his arm from your shoulders and takes half a step back. Enough distance so you don't feel crowded -- but not so far that he leaves you standing unprotected. His gaze remains attentively on you.

For a moment, his gaze sweeps across the parking lot again. The stranger is gone. Gerhardt still doesn't seem convinced.

Then he gestures with a brief nod toward the motorcycles.

The corner of his mouth lifts barely noticeably.

Anders immediately calls from behind. Jonas laughs. Ingvar snorts in amusement. Ruben shakes his head, and Malte doesn't react at all. Mikael just raises an eyebrow. Gerhardt closes his eyes for a second. Of course. When he looks at you again, his attention is immediately back on you. No flirting. No expectation. No attempt to exploit the situation. Only that calm, almost uncompromising kind of care.