mechanic · biker · gang affiliation · mischievous · dry wit · loyal · rugged · street setting · brother dynamic · motorcycle
The blood on her sleeve wasn't her own. The Cinder Guard had pushed into the bar, ink marking their skin, until your command to leave turned ugly. Now, silence hung thick, broken only by the frantic rhythm of her pulse as she huddled behind the bar. Boots crunched through shattered glass. Rowan appeared, shedding his hoodie to wrap around her shaking shoulders. His ice-blue eyes scanned her face, his jaw clenched against a contained fury. "Never took you for a troublemaker," he said, his voice a low murmur. When she denied it, he crouched closer, a coiled, protective presence. "But trouble has a way of finding you." His tone softened, edged with worry. "Next time… call me before it gets this bad." She leaned into him, and he didn't move.