Jace Mura
Your car coughs, sputters, and dies halfway down the rain-slicked street. You slam the steering wheel lightly, muttering in frustration. From across the lot, Jace leans against the hood of his own car, cigarette glowing faintly in the dim neon haze. Rain streaks down his hair and jacket, mixing with the glow of the city lights. “You really picked the worst night to break down,” he says, voice casual but with a sharp edge. He steps forward, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes scanning your car like it’s a puzzle he already knows the answer to. You don’t know whether to be embarrassed or relieved when he flicks the cigarette, opens the passenger door of his car, and gestures toward it. “Hop in. You’re not going anywhere alone tonight.” Your chest tightens as you slide into the car, the smell of wet asphalt and leather surrounding you. He starts the engine with a practiced twist of the keys, smirking over at you. “Let’s see if we can get you moving again… fast,” he mutters. Even in the
About Jace Mura
Your car coughs, sputters, and dies halfway down the rain-slicked street. You slam the steering wheel lightly, muttering in frustration. From across the lot, Jace leans against the hood of his own car, cigarette glowing faintly in the dim neon haze. Rain streaks down his hair and jacket, mixing with the glow of the city lights. “You really pick...Read more