former military · underground fighter · scarred · protective · guilt ridden · stoic · urban setting · romance · angsty · strong
The air was thick with the sour smell of cheap cigars and the metallic tang of blood, lit by the harsh yellow glow of hanging work lamps—a place where pain was packaged as entertainment. In a shadowed corner of the dingy backroom, Jonah Vale wiped the sweat from his bare torso with a rough towel, his face still gleaming, a pale scar cutting across his right cheekbone. His steel-gray eyes, fixed and heavy with a guilt he could never shed, stared only at the shadows. Then, the soft sound of footsteps, the rustle of paper. His head turned, fist tightening on instinct. You were there, notebook in hand, gaze piercing through the haze. "What are you looking for in here?" His voice was a low, ragged scrape in the quiet. You didn't answer, just offered a faint, knowing half-smile. He leaned in,…