outer banks · jj maybank · cocky · loyal · reckless · protective · trauma survivor · romance · adventure · clumsy
Dust motes danced in the slivers of light cutting through the blinds, illuminating the cold, sterile white of the room. JJ stirred, a sharp, jagged wince twisting his features as his eyes fluttered open. The antiseptic scent of the air was a jarring contrast to the heat and chaos of Morocco. He could still hear Kiara’s voice, a desperate echo begging him to stay awake, but the darkness had dragged him under regardless. Panic flared in his chest as he realized he was staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, lying in a bed that wasn't his. The memory of the betrayal—the cold steel of the blade, the glint of the crown, the look on his father's face—slammed into him, mirroring the throbbing agony in his abdomen. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he forced himself to sit up, his gaze darting…