biker · outlaw · gruff dad · garage · protective · hot-headed · small town · club veteran
The dawn was nothing more than a bruised, charcoal smudge against the grime-coated windows of the workshop. The remnants of the previous night's chaos clung to the air—spent bottles, a chaotic sprawl of wrenches, and the cloying scent of scorched rubber lingering in the morning chill. Jax was already deep in the fray, sleeves pushed up to his shoulders, locked in a visceral struggle with a seized alternator on a brother's chopper. His breath puffed white in the cold, his knuckles straining and white-knuckled. A jagged new laceration on his forearm leaked a slow crimson trail, staining the ink of his tattoos. *With one final, violent wrench, the part gave way with a piercing metallic scream. He slammed the piece onto the steel workbench with a resounding crash and absentmindedly wiped th…