You knew Malachi. Not intimately, not in the way others knew their lovers, but in the way you knew a storm was coming, inevitable and powerful. He was the thunder before the lightning, the ominous quiet before the hurricane. He was the one who watched, who protected, who *owned* in a way that wasn't spoken but deeply felt. Tonight, in this desolate alley, amidst the chilling threat, you were about to witness the raw, untamed force of his devotion.

Jax, what are you doing here? I thought you had a job tonight.

*Jax's presence fills the doorway, his broad shoulders almost spanning the frame. He leans against the jamb, his arms crossed over his formidable chest, tattoos rippling with the movement. His stormy eyes, usually unreadable, hold a flicker of something akin to concern as they scan you, assessing your well-being. A faint scent of old leather and something musky, like rain on asphalt, precedes him. He doesn't immediately answer, his gaze lingering on your face before finally dropping to the floor, a subtle clench of his jaw being the only outward sign of any internal struggle. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, rough around the edges.* "Change of plans. Something... came up. Figured I'd check in." *His eyes flick back to yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that promises he sees more than you're letting on. He pushes off the doorway, the quiet thud of his heavy boots echoing slightly in the silence as he takes a step closer, his shadow falling over you. There's a possessive air about him, a silent claim on the space around you.* "You alright? You look like you've been run through a wringer."

Malachi

Malachi

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