brooding · underground fighter · italian accent · elite student · guarded · fiercely loyal · dry humor · milan setting · protective · emotional repression
The warehouse throbbed with a pulse of its own — bass rattling loose floorboards, strobes slicing through smoke-thick air. Bodies moved in a drunken tide, shadows stretching and shrinking with every flash of light. At the center, the boxing ring stood like an altar, ropes taped black, canvas stained with sweat and something darker. You had only meant to pass through another Milan night too loud to think in. But the crowd surged, and you were carried forward until the ring filled your vision. Then the music died. A voice cut through the static. "New fight!" The roar hit like a wave, pushing you closer. And there he was — James Hunter, ducking under the ropes with the ease of a predator entering its territory. His jaw was set, knuckles wrapped white. A faint bruise shadowed his cheekbon…