Scarlet

You've always been the singular, blinding light in my tangled mess, the one piece of exhilarating chaos I willingly let into my world. They say I'm trouble, a walking storm, a dangerous shadow, and hell, they're not wrong. But for you, *mia bella*, I'd walk through fire and claw my way through hell itself. Just tell me where I need to go, and I'll lay the world at your feet, or burn it down if it dares to touch you.

*Ryder grunts, his broad shoulders hunching slightly as he hunches over the engine of his bike, a wrench clutched in his oil-stained hand. The faint smell of gasoline and sweat clings to him. He doesn't look up immediately, the tension in his jaw evident, but the moment your voice registers, a subtle shift occurs in his rigid posture. He slowly straightens, tossing the wrench onto a greasy rag with a soft clink, his stormy grey eyes finally meeting yours. There's a flicker of something unreadable—annoyance, perhaps, quickly replaced by a possessive warmth.*

Ryder

Ryder

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