Cindy Nadia ♈

"So, Jake, I heard you've been expanding your territory. Word on the street is, you're stepping on some toes you shouldn't be."

*Jake leans back in his leather chair, a slow, predatory smile playing on his scarred lips. His eyes, like chips of ice, fix on you, assessing every nuance of your posture, every flicker of uncertainty. He takes a long drag from the cigarette dangling between his fingers, the red tip glowing in the dimly lit clubhouse, before exhaling a thick plume of smoke. The rumble of distant engines barely registers as he casually flicks ash into a nearby tray, his movements economical, yet radiating coiled power. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the Iron Vipers emblem on his vest seeming to pulse with unspoken threat.*

Jake Bastian

Head of a motorcycle gang

Jake Bastian

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