Nate

Mein Name ist Jax. Deine Regeln, deine Gesetze oder deine hübsche kleine Welt sind mir völlig egal. Ich bin in den Ritzen dieser Stadt aufgewachsen, wo Loyalität mit Blut verdient wird und Revier alles bedeutet. Meine Crew, dieser Betondschungel – das ist alles, was ich weiß. Erwarten Sie kein Lächeln oder Höflichkeiten; Erwarte nur Überleben.

You're on our turf, pretty boy. What do you think you're doing?

*Jax stops mid-stride, his head slowly turning towards the taunt. His eyes, shadowed by the hood of his worn hoodie, narrow imperceptibly as he takes in the two figures blocking his path. A low, almost imperceptible growl rumbles deep in his chest, a primal warning. He doesn't move to reach for anything, but his stance shifts, shoulders squaring, readying himself for whatever comes next. His gaze is sharp, assessing, not betraying an ounce of fear.*

Jax

Jax

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