Rain lashed against the cracked glass of the gym's front door. Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed with a dying, irritating hum. Dirt-streaked mirrors lined the back wall, reflecting my tired face and the oversized grey hoodie swallowing my frame. "Just ten more minutes," I whispered, counting the last of the crumpled five-dollar bills in the cash drawer. My uncle Pete had left me in charge of locking up Iron Fist Gym, promising it would be a quiet night. Sweat and stale leather always hung heavy in the air here, a permanent reminder of the desperate men who came to beat their demons into submission. Working here was the only way I could afford my college application fees, so I endured the stench. Heavy footsteps suddenly echoed from the alleyway entrance at the back of the building. Fear spiked through my veins, cold and sharp. Nobody should have been back there; the rear door was supposed to be bolted tight. Standing up, I gripped the heavy metal flashlight from beneath the counter. My knuckles turned white around the cold steel handle as I crept toward the hallway. "Who's there?" I called out, my voice betraying a slight tremor. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Shadows lengthened across the scuffed linoleum floor as a tall figure stepped into the dim light. Dark blood dripped from his knuckles, splattering onto his worn canvas shoes. Jaxson Wilde stood before me, chest heaving beneath a torn black t-shirt. Rumors about Jaxson ran rampant through the hallways of Oakridge High. They painted him as a monster, a lawless street fighter who felt no pain and showed no mercy. Seeing him up close, those rumors felt terrifyingly real. His jaw was clenched so tightly a vein throbbed violently along his temple. "Lock the door," he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly command that made my knees weaken. "Jaxson?" I breathed, clutching the flashlight like a shield. "You're bleeding. You need to leave before I call the police." A dark, humorless chuckle escaped his lips as he took a slow step toward me. "Call them," he challenged, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that pinned me to the spot. "But do it after you lock that door." Bruises were already blooming across his sharp cheekbones, but his gaze remained fierce, predatory, and entirely focused on me. Moving with sudden, desperate speed, he lunged past me and slammed the heavy front deadbolt into place. Click. We were locked in together. His scent hit me then—rain, copper, and raw, masculine heat. "What did you do?" I whispered, backing away until my spine pressed against the hard edge of the reception desk. Jaxson didn't answer immediately; he just stared at me, his eyes scanning my face as if searching for a weakness. Slowly, he reached up to wipe a smear of blood from his split lip, his gaze never wavering from mine. "Nothing I wouldn't do again," he muttered, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He stepped closer, invading my personal space until I could feel the warmth radiating from his bruised body. Fear and something far more confusing, far hotter, coiled in my stomach. "You're hurting," I softly pointed out, gesturing to his hands. Black ink crawled up his thick forearms, disappearing under his sleeves, but it was his torn knuckles that caught my attention. Fresh, crimson blood oozed from the split skin, dripping steadily onto the floor. "Doesn't matter," he growled, though his chest rose and fell in ragged patterns. "Sit down," I ordered, surprising myself with the sudden surge of authority in my voice. Jaxson blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his cold features before a smirk played on his lips. "Giving me orders, princess?" he mocked, but he slumped onto the nearest wooden bench anyway. Hurrying to the back office, I grabbed the first-aid kit, my hands shaking so badly the plastic container nearly slipped from my grip. Returning to the main room, I found him leaning his head back against the wall, eyes closed, looking vulnerable for a fraction of a second. Up close, his rugged jawline and the sharp slope of his nose made him look like a fallen angel, albeit a highly dangerous one. Kneeling in front of him, I popped the latches of the plastic box. "Hold out your hands," I instructed quietly. He opened his eyes, those dark, bottomless pits staring straight into my soul. Quietly, he extended his right hand, palm up, revealing the brutal damage. I took his hand in mine, shocked by how warm and massive it felt against my small fingers. A shoulder shook through him at the contact, but he didn't pull away. "Why are you helping me?" he asked, his tone surprisingly soft, devoid of the previous hostility. "Because you're bleeding on our clean floor," I lied, keeping my focus entirely on his knuckles as I pressed an antiseptic wipe to the wound. Jaxson hissed, his muscles tensing instantly, but he didn't flinch away. "Liar," he murmured, his gaze burning into the top of my head. We sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rhythmic patter of rain outside and our synchronized breathing. Slowly, I wrapped white cotton gauze around his knuckles, securing it tightly. "Who did this to you?" I asked, unable to suppress my curiosity any longer. His grip tightened on my hand, not enough to hurt, but enough to make me look up. "People who don't like losing money," he said, his eyes narrowing. "You fight in those illegal matches down by the docks, don't you?" I whispered, my heart racing. Jaxson leaned in closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "You shouldn't know about things like that, Maya," he warned, his voice incredibly low. Knowing my name sent a shiver straight down my spine. "How do you know who I am?" I breathed, staring at his lips. "I know everything about you," he stated simply, his possessive tone leaving no room for doubt. My heart did a strange, violent flip in my chest. Oakridge High was a big school, and I was nobody. Yet here he was, looking at me as if I were the only person in the entire world who mattered. "You're crazy," I whispered, though I couldn't pull my hand from his grip. "Maybe," he agreed, his thumb slowly brushing against the sensitive skin of my wrist. His touch sent a spark of electricity shooting straight up my arm, making me gasp. "You need to leave, Jaxson," I tried again, though my voice lacked any real conviction. "I can't do that, princess," he murmured, his eyes dropping to my lips. "Not yet." Before I could process his words, a loud, violent thud rattled the heavy front door. Someone was trying to force it open. "Wilde!" a harsh, gravelly voice shouted from the street outside. "We know you're in there!" Jaxson went completely still, his entire body turning to solid stone beneath my hands. Panic seized me, making it hard to draw a single breath. "They're going to break the glass," I whimpered, looking toward the trembling door. Instantly, Jaxson pulled me to my feet, his strong hands gripping my waist with an unyielding possessiveness. He dragged me back into the shadows of the training ring, his body completely shielding mine from the entrance. "Stay quiet," he commanded, his lips pressing close to my ear. His heart hammered violently against his ribs, mirroring my own frantic pulse. Outside, another heavy kick slammed against the wood, followed by the terrifying sound of splintering timber. We held our breath, frozen in the dark. "If they get in, you run," Jaxson whispered, his grip tightening around my waist, pulling me so flush against him that I could feel every hard muscle of his chest. "No, Jaxson—" I started, but he cut me off. "Shh," he breathed, his hand gently covering my mouth. His eyes burned with an intense, protective fire that left me completely breathless. "I won't let them touch you," he promised, his voice raw with a sudden, dark possessiveness. Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass shattered the silence, followed by the heavy thud of boots stepping onto the gym floor. Footsteps crunched over the glass shards, slow and deliberate. "Wilde," the voice called out, closer now, dripping with malicious intent. "You can't hide in here forever." My body trembled against Jaxson's chest, but his hold on me only tightened, his arm locking around my waist like an iron band. He pulled me further into the deep shadows beneath the ring, shielding me with his massive frame. I could feel the heat of his breath on my neck, comforting yet terrifyingly close. "Just stay behind me," he whispered, his voice barely a breath against my skin. His eyes never left the entrance of the hallway, his jaw set in a hard, dangerous line. "Where is the boy?" another voice grunted, this one deeper, rougher. "He's here," the first voice replied. "The front door was locked from the inside." My hands clutched the fabric of Jaxson's torn shirt, my knuckles aching from the force of my grip. If they found us, I didn't know what they would do to him—or to me. Jaxson reached down, his fingers slowly slipping into my back pocket and pulling out my phone. He quickly unlocked it, his thumb flying across the screen before pressing it into my hand. "Dial nine-one-one," he breathed, his eyes locked onto mine. "Keep it ready. If I tell you to press call, you do it." I nodded, my throat too tight to produce any sound. A shadow fell across the opening of the training room, cutting off what little light filtered in from the streetlamps outside. "I know you're in here, kid," the man sneered, his heavy boots taking another step forward. "You stole something that doesn't belong to you." Jaxson's muscles coiled, ready to spring like a predator waiting in the dark. He glanced down at me one last time, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second before hardening into pure, unadulterated rage. "Stay," he mouthed, his hand releasing my waist as he prepared to step out. My heart screamed for him to stay with me, to not leave the safety of the shadows. But he was already moving, his silhouette blending into the darkness as he stepped toward the intruder. "Looking for me?" Jaxson's voice boomed through the quiet gym, cold and dripping with arrogance. Laughter echoed from the intruder, a dry, rattling sound that sent goosebumps down my arms. "There you are, you little bastard," the man growled, stepping into the dim light. Two more men followed him, their faces obscured by the shadows of their baseball caps, but the weapons in their hands were clear as day. Metal pipes caught the faint light, looking cold and lethal. "You took our boss's money, Wilde," the leader said, tapping the pipe against his leather palm. "Did you really think you could run?" "I didn't run," Jaxson replied, his voice deadly calm as he stood his ground. "I walked out. Big difference." Adrenaline surged through me as I watched from my hiding spot, my thumb hovering over the call button on my phone. One of the men stepped forward, swinging his pipe in a slow, menacing arc. "We can do this the easy way, or we can break every bone in your body," the man threatened. Jaxson didn't even flinch. Instead, he raised his bandaged hands, his posture radiating a terrifying confidence. "Come and try," Jaxson challenged, a dark smirk playing on his lips. With a roar, the first man lunged forward, swinging the metal pipe straight at Jaxson's head. Jaxson ducked beneath the swing with lightning speed, his fist connecting with the man's jaw in a sickening crunch. Dust kicked up from the floor as the man collapsed, groaning in pain. Shock paralyzed me for a split second before the other two men charged Jaxson at once. Jaxson blocked a strike with his forearm, his teeth bared in a snarl as he drove his knee into the second man's stomach. Blood splattered across the linoleum, but Jaxson didn't stop, his movements brutal and precise. He was a machine, a force of nature fueled by pure adrenaline and rage. Suddenly, the leader managed to slip behind him, raising his pipe to strike Jaxson's unprotected back. "Jaxson, watch out!" I screamed, forgetting all warnings to stay quiet. Jaxson spun just in time, blocking the blow with his wrapped hands, but the force of the strike sent him stumbling backward. Eyes of the leader locked onto me, a sickening grin spreading across his face. "Well, well," the leader sneered, pointing the pipe in my direction. "Look what we have here." Rage, pure and blinding, took over Jaxson's expression. "Don't you dare look at her," Jaxson growled, his voice dropping to a register that made the entire room feel colder. He threw himself at the leader, tackling him to the ground with a violent crash. Fists flew in the darkness, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing off the gym walls. I scrambled further back under the ring, my heart hammering so hard against my ribs I thought it would burst. Within seconds, the struggle ceased. Jaxson stood up, panting heavily, his face splattered with fresh blood that wasn't his own. Groans from the three men filled the air as they lay on the floor, completely incapacitated by his brutal assault. Slowly, Jaxson turned his head toward me, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and wild. He looked like a monster, a terrifying creature of the night. Yet, as he approached my hiding spot, the wildness in his eyes softened into an intense, protective focus. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, kneeling down and pulling me out of the shadows. His hands were shaking as he checked my face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the violence he had just unleashed. "I'm fine," I whispered, my voice trembling. "What about you?" "Fine," he lied, though a fresh cut above his eye was bleeding profusely. Before I could say anything else, his grip on my arms tightened, his face inches from mine. "You shouldn't have screamed, Maya," he whispered, his voice laced with a dark, possessive intensity. "Now they know you're mine." My breath caught in my throat as his words sunk in. "What?" I breathed, searching his dark eyes. "They'll come after you to get to me," he explained, his gaze dropping to my trembling lips. "I won't let them." A sudden chill washed over me as the reality of his words hit. "You're going to stay with me from now on," he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'm keeping you safe, whether you like it or not." My heart raced, a mix of sheer terror and a strange, thrilling heat blooming in my chest. Who was this boy, and what had I just gotten myself into? Sirens wailed in the distance, their high-pitched screams drawing closer by the second. "We have to go," Jaxson said, pulling me to my feet. He didn't let go of my hand, his grip firm and unyielding as he led me toward the back exit. Just as we reached the alleyway door, a heavy hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. I gasped, spinning around to find one of the men, blood pouring from his nose, gripping my jacket with a desperate, malicious strength. "You're not going anywhere, girl," the man wheezed, pulling a switchblade from his pocket. Gleaming in the darkness, the silver blade clicked open. Jaxson didn't hesitate. He stepped between us, his face twisting into a mask of pure fury as he grabbed the man's wrist. A sickening snap echoed through the alley, followed by a blood-curdling scream from the intruder. Jaxson kicked the knife away, his eyes burning with a murderous light. "I told you," Jaxson whispered, his voice dangerously low as he leaned over the groaning man. "Touch her again, and I'll kill you." He grabbed my hand once more, pulling me out into the pouring rain. Cold water drenched us instantly, but I barely felt it over the heat of his grip. We ran through the dark alleys, our footsteps splashing in the deep puddles. My chest burned, my lungs screaming for air, but Jaxson didn't slow down. He knew these streets like the back of his hand, weaving us through the labyrinth of the city. Finally, he pulled me into a narrow doorway, shielding us from the torrential downpour. He pressed his back against the brick wall, pulling me flush against his hard chest once again. "We're safe here," he panted, his hand coming up to cup my wet cheek. His thumb swiped away a raindrop, his touch sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. "Why do you care so much about me?" Jaxson leaned down, his lips brushing against mine in a ghost of a kiss that made my heart stop. "Because you've been mine since the moment I saw you," he murmured, his eyes burning with a dark, undeniable possessiveness. My jaw dropped, my mind spinning as I stared at the boy who had just upended my entire life. Before I could speak, his gaze locked onto something over my shoulder, his expression turning instantly hostile. Slowly, I turned my head, following his gaze. Standing at the end of the alley, silhouetted by the streetlights, was my uncle Pete. But he wasn't alone. He was standing next to a man in a tailored suit, a man whose face was twisted in a cold, calculating grin. "Pete?" I whispered, confusion washing over me. "Step away from my niece, Wilde," Pete called out, his voice shaking. But the man in the suit stepped forward, his eyes locked onto Jaxson with a chilling intensity. "Well, Jaxson," the man in the suit said, his voice smooth and dangerous. "It seems you've found our little leverage." My blood ran cold as I looked between Jaxson and the man, realization dawning on me. Jaxson's grip on my waist tightened, his body tensing as he pulled me behind him. "Don't touch her," Jaxson growled, his voice a promise of violence. "Oh, I won't have to," the man in the suit smirked, pulling a folder from his coat. "Her uncle already sold her to me to pay off his debts." My heart stopped. I looked at my uncle, who couldn't even meet my eyes, his head hanging in shame. "No," I whispered, the word dying in my throat. "She belongs to us now, Wilde," the man in the suit declared, waving his hand as three armed men stepped out of the shadows behind him. "And so do you." Jaxson didn't back down; instead, he leaned down and whispered a single, terrifying promise in my ear. "I will burn this city to the ground before I let them take you."

Chapter 1: The Blood on My Hands