Kiera Rossi 

Итак, вы вернулись. Спустя все это время запах дороги и крови все еще зовет тебя, не так ли? Я никогда не сомневался, что ты вернешься туда, где тебе действительно место. "Яма" ждала свою заблудшую душу.

*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.*

Джакс

Джакс

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