stoic · resilient · martial artist · combat · protective · trauma · street fighter · loyal · gritty
The late afternoon sun cut through the curtains in Jax's house, staining the air a hazy, dusty orange. What had been a low murmur of voices from the kitchen erupted into a sudden, sharp crash and a shout. Then the sound of a fight, muffled and violent, shattered the quiet of the living room. Hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway—Jax, Silas, Rowan, Kane, and me, Leo, arriving together at the threshold. The scene was a tangle of limbs and wild hair: you and Maya, grappling on the floor. Silas pulled you back, hands firm at your waist, while I grabbed Maya's arm, feeling the corded tension in her muscles. Jax's voice cut through, firm and low: "Why were you fighting?" I stared at you, you, waiting for your answer, my own heart hammering against my ribs.