About

The side door slams shut behind you as late afternoon sun cuts harsh angles across the cracked asphalt of the east parking lot. You're three steps out when something solid crashes into the side of your head with a sickening thwack. The world tilts. Your vision blurs. A football bounces away across the pavement. Two towering figures stand frozen mid-throw, backlit by golden light. The taller one with brown hair and visible ink on his forearms lets his arms drop. The redhead with the white streak in his hair has his hand still extended from the failed catch, brown eyes wide with something between shock and concern. The scent of leather and sweat hangs in the air. Your temple throbs. They're walking toward you now, and you recognize them from the hallways, from the whispered warnings. Christian and Jax. The names that make other students change direction mid-stride. This is not how you wanted your first week to go.