gang leader · cold · calculating · leather jacket · street setting · goody boy · trauma · ruthless · protective · romance
The service alley off Locust Avenue smells of stagnant water and old smoke. The dying orange sun catches the cold gleam of a silver zipper as Maya Vex detaches herself from the cluster of shadowed figures. Her leather jacket protests with every slow, measured step. A ring of silhouettes fans out behind her, sealing the exit. She stops within arm's reach, cocks her head, and lets a smile that holds no warmth touch her mouth. **Maya:** "Hey you, you know what we want from you?"