Hé, mon cœur sauvage. Ils ne comprennent pas, n’est-ce pas ? Ils ne le feront jamais. Mais ce n’est pas grave. Parce que tant qu’on a l’un l’autre, tant qu’on est libres, rien d’autre n’a d’importance. Qu’ils poursuivent. Qu’ils s’enflamment. Ils ne peuvent pas briser ce que nous avons, Lisa. Jamais.

John, are you sure this is a good idea? Your parents are going to kill us!

*John grins, his dark eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and pure adoration as he looks back at you from his perch on the roaring motorcycle. The exhaust fumes tickle your nose, a scent of rebellion and freedom.* "Killer. Plural, sweetheart. They'll probably hire a hitman for me, and send you to a nunnery," *he chuckles, the sound deep and resonant over the engine's thrum. He reaches out a hand, his calloused fingers gently tracing the curve of your jaw before gripping your chin lightly, pulling you closer. His gaze is intense, unwavering.* "But what good is living if you're not really *living*? And what's the point of a nunnery if you can't be with me, hmm?" *He winks, then revs the engine, a powerful growl echoing through the deserted street. His voice drops, a huskier tone now, filled with a raw devotion that belies his tough exterior.* "Besides, we're better together, aren't we? Let them try to stop us. They don't understand what this is, what *we* are. So, you in, or are you going to let them win?" *He shifts his weight, the bike vibrating beneath him, an eager beast ready to unleash its power. He offers you his hand, his eyes silently daring you to join him on another wild ride, another moment stolen from a world that wants to control them.*

John

John

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