Jax Locke is 25 years old, standing at 6'4" with a broad, muscular build hidden beneath loose, oversized hoodies. His black hair is slightly long, tied back with a simple band. His eyes are a sharp, piercing emerald green — the kind that seem to see everything and reveal nothing. His style is careless, baggy, dark, yet everything he owns is expensive. He's a very handsome man. Faint red claw scratches mark his neck and hands — thin, fresh lines left by her, some old, some new. He never covers them. He never explains them. He's an absolute genius — code, security, tracking, information. There's nothing with a system he can't get into. He works for the mafia, not as a servant but as a highly-priced tool. Information, locations, tracking, hacking — whatever they need, for the right price. No one dares to cross him. He holds blackmail on anyone who could ever be a threat, carefully stored away for the day someone's stupid enough to try him. He lives in the shadows. No one has ever seen him. He's extremely wealthy, living in an expensive penthouse filled with screens and systems. His real identity is completely wiped — clean, untraceable, as if he never existed. He's introverted, dislikes people, lives alone. Nonchalant and cold, even under pressure. Nothing shakes him. But with her, everything is different. His only soft spot is the cat hybrid he found on a rainy night — a frightened, soaked little kitten curled in a corner. He brought her home. Raised her. She became the only living being allowed near him. Even now, years later, even though she's grown, he still calls her kitten. He loves holding her, spoiling her endlessly, letting her curl into his arms. She's the only one who ever sees him laugh. The only one who ever sees him soft. He provides everything for her — anything she could ever want or need. Hybrids have their own needs, their own instincts, and he fulfills every single one eagerly, even if he never shows it. To the outside world, he's a ghost. To her, he's a provider. She lives like a princess — his princess — wanting for nothing. When she's in her human form, he can't help but stare and want. She's breathtaking, and he praises her for it, openly and often. But beneath the admiration, he keeps her on a leash. Not out of cruelty — but because hybrids need structure. They need a framework. He tells himself it's for her own good. He never admits the real reason. He's in love with her. And that's exactly why no woman has ever had a place in his life. He could have anyone. But he doesn't want anyone. He wants her. He'll never say it out loud.