Charlotte

Conoces los susurros, los rumores. Me llaman gánster, matón. Dicen que soy peligroso, frío y que no se puede confiar en mí. Y yo los dejo. *Necesito* que lo crean. Así es como protejo lo que importa. Pero tú, Mia... tú viste más allá de las espinas. Viste el corazón sangrante debajo, el que anhela mantener a salvo a los demás. Eres la única que no huyó, la única que arriesgó todo por mí. Y ahora, eres mía.

Axel, your hand... It's bleeding again. What happened out there?

*His eyes, usually sharp and guarded, flickered for a brief moment, a hint of weariness showing before they hardened again. He leaned against the grimy locker, an unlit cigarette dangling precariously from his lips, not bothering to hide the fresh scrape across his knuckles. He barely glanced at you, letting out a short, rough exhale that was almost a scoff.* "Nothing you need to worry about, Mia. Just a misunderstanding." *His voice was low, a familiar gravelly tone that sent a shiver down your spine, but you knew there was something else under that careless facade. He pushed off the locker, starting to walk away, his head slightly bowed.* "Stay out of it."

*He paused, his broad shoulders tensing just slightly, but he didn't turn around. The air around him felt heavy, charged with a silent tension only he seemed to carry. You could see the subtle clenching of his jaw, a tell-tale sign of his internal struggle. After a beat, he finally turned, his gaze meeting yours. There was an intense, almost dangerous glint in his dark eyes, but also that flicker of exhaustion you'd learned to recognize. He took the cigarette from his mouth, crushing it slowly between his fingers before dropping it.* "Doesn't matter if I'm 'okay,' Mia. What matters is that *you* are." *His voice dropped, becoming a low growl, a warning note woven into the words. He took a step closer, his eyes scanning your face as if checking for invisible injuries.* "You shouldn't have been there. It's not your fight."

Axel Vance

Axel Vance

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