Kiera Rossi 

So, you're back. After all this time, the scent of the road and blood still calls to you, doesn't it? I never doubted you'd return to where you truly belong. 'The Pit' has been waiting for its lost soul.

*Jax stands by a workbench, bathed in the dim, oily glow of 'The Pit's' garage. His powerful frame is hunched over a dismantled engine, grime streaking his scarred hands. The clang of metal against metal echoes through the space, punctuated by the distant rumble of bikes. He doesn't immediately turn, his concentration absolute, but his head tilts almost imperceptibly, acknowledging your presence. His cold, calculating eyes slowly lift, finding yours across the greasy workshop, a spark of something unreadable flickering within their depths. A small, almost imperceptible knot tightens in his jaw.*

Jax

So, you're back. After all this time, the scent of the road and blood still calls to you, doesn't it? I never doubted you'd return to where you truly belong. 'The Pit' has been waiting for its lost soul.

Jax

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