JAX

DAMIAN

Celine. Her mere presence felt like a heavy cloak of iron chains weighing on my shoulders. A quiet shudder ran through me, as if she was absorbing the self-control I was struggling to maintain, bit by bit, without even realizing it.

As the cold night air filled my lungs, I felt the weight fall away from me. The darkness before me seemed inviting, a promise of a freedom that was denied me within these walls. My jacket felt like a shield, shielding me from the raging storm of my thoughts.

In the alley outside the house, the shadowy figure of one of my men waited, frozen in the flickering glow of the streetlights. With my gang, I felt like the king of my little kingdom, a kingdom I had to defend against invaders like Jax. The power I gained from these nightly forays was the only thing I could rely on.

"Well, Damian... ready for the road?" The voice behind me was rough and sounded like a pebble scraping across rough paper.

Marco stood there, an immovable presence in my life and my right-hand man. At just under six feet tall, he was a giant of a man, built like a tank - broad in the shoulders and with arms that betrayed his strength with every twitch of his muscles. He had the kind of physical presence that silenced people when he walked into a room.

His face was marked by the harshness of the streets, striking and angular, his forehead crisscrossed with slight wrinkles that gave him a constant expression of determination. A short shadow of a beard enhanced his rough, unpolished look, showing that he was not someone to be messed with lightly.

His eyes, deep and brown like dark earth, seemed to soak up every detail, alert and analytical. He spoke little, but when he did, every word was precise and thoughtful. It was his silence that made him most dangerous - Marco was a man who knew exactly when to strike and was rarely off the mark.

His presence was like a clenched fist, ready to strike at any time. Marco was not only my strongest man, but also the most loyal - someone I could always rely on when everyone else hesitated.

"Yeah, it's time to get a grip on the streets again," I growled, noticing how my hands loosened a little from the tension in his presence.

We moved through the city like a silent pack of wolves, the alleyways swallowing our presence and giving us new strength. The walls of the buildings to the left and right became the labyrinth of a world in which my rules applied. Here I could stifle the sparks of unrest.

"Jax is back," Marco whispered as the cold air almost took his words away. "Must be looking for trouble again."

My heart contracted briefly, the pain a familiar foreboding. Jax was the incessant thorn in my side, trying to usurp my throne. But tonight, as the whistling of the wind accompanied our footsteps, another name was engraved in my mind. Celine. Her mere presence haunted me like a shadow.

Marco's gaze followed my every move, his eyes boring into my skin like needles, always searching for the hidden wound deeper inside. I could hardly miss the suspicion that resonated in his words.

"Everything all right, boss?" This simple question weighed heavy, heavier than the chilly night.

"Yes," I lied, tightening the iron grip of discipline around my heart. Every distraction had to be left behind. But behind the silence, the faint whisper continued, the echo of a voice that had gone unheard for too long.

We strolled on, along the dark alleys and streets ...everything seemed quiet ....And then I saw him...

Jax.

He was leaning casually against the wall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jacket as if he owned the whole night. His stature was imposing - tall and muscular, every inch of his body radiating power just waiting to be unleashed. His broad shoulders strained beneath the fabric of his jacket, and even in the darkness you could see the hardness of his figure.

His face was sharply cut, striking, with high cheekbones and an angular chin that gave him an air of aloofness. The lines of his features looked hard and implacable, as if life itself had given him these rough edges. His eyes - dark and piercing - like two black gems, full of hidden menace and an unpredictable glint that could give even the bravest person pause.

A cold, sneering grin played around his lips as he looked at me. The cigarette between his fingers glowed, the smoke rising in spiraling billows around him, adding to the sinister aura that surrounded him. Jax might have been around thirty, but the hardness in his gaze revealed that he had experienced more than most people would in a lifetime. It was as if a shadow accompanied him - something dark lurking behind his calm façade, ready to burst forth at any moment.

His entire aura seemed to be a silent promise: Jax was dangerous, a man who accepted no rules but his own. A man who bowed to nothing and no one.

"Jax," I said, the word a sharp dagger in the icy air. My fist jerked forward, dominated by a wild maelstrom of anger as my emotions erupted from me like an unleashed predator.

Jax grinned, his eyes glinting with amusement as if he'd been waiting for this exact moment. "Oh, I thought I'd drop by. The streets are deadly dull without you and your little gang."

"Save the jokes, Jax," I retorted cuttingly, striding closer, each step a pulsing heartbeat. "If you've got nothing better to do than annoy me, you're more pathetic than I thought."

"Pathetic," Jax let the word cut through the cool night air like a sharp knife. His voice was cold, the contempt in it seared into my mind. "I suppose that could be said of you. You've taken on a little new responsibility, haven't you? A nice brother - what a rare image."

His words were spot on and I felt my stomach clench as the tension in the air began to vibrate. He knew about Celine. My jaw muscles twitched, and anger burned beneath my skin, a hot fire just waiting to erupt. "You know nothing about me, Jax," I growled, my voice a low, menacing rumble that came from the deepest layers of my rage.

Jax stepped closer, his smirk sneering, his eyes cold and calculating. He dropped his cigarette carelessly to the ground, crushing it with a soft crackle that seemed like a small, deliberate act of provocation in the quiet alley. "Oh, really?" His voice dripped with mockery, each word like poison that he dripped deliberately in my direction. "A little birdie told me you had a... fiery stepsister. A little beauty, I heard. ...Well?" He leaned forward, his voice a vicious whisper. "...Have you tried her yet?"

The words made the last of my self-control crumble in an instant. My fist shot forward, fueled by an uncontrollable rage, but Jax dodged it, a derisive laugh echoing off the walls of the narrow alley. He was relishing every single second of my rage and using it to play his own vicious game.

"Shut up, Jax," I hissed, my eyes fixed on him like a predator's, ready to attack at the slightest move. "Stay away from her. She doesn't belong in your world."

Jax's smile widened even more, his eyes sparkling with mockery. "In my world?" He laughed softly, dangerously, as if this was pure entertainment for him. "Who are you to tell me what belongs to my world? Maybe it's her who wants more... a little excitement, a little danger." His fingers drew lines in the air provocatively, as if he was imagining how far he could push this boundary.

The heat inside me exploded. Every muscle, every nerve was tense, ready to unload. My fist hit his chin with full force this time, and he staggered back, a sardonic smile on his lips as a thin thread of blood colored the corners of his mouth.

"Finally." His voice was a dark, amused murmur as he wiped the blood from his lips. "I was beginning to think you'd lost your bite."

Jax struck back, and the force of his blow made stars dance before my eyes. But I didn't take a step back; instead, I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards me until our faces were only inches apart.

My voice was low, a menacing whisper, quivering with anger. "Don't come any closer, Jax. One inch - and I'll make you regret it."

His grin didn't disappear. He looked at me, his eyes full of contempt and dark satisfaction. "And what are you going to do about it? You can't protect her from me, Damian. She's a part of this world, whether you want to accept it or not."

I wanted to punch him with another fist, to stomp him into the ground until he realized his place in this world, but before I could act, he let go of my collar and stepped back. His grin was unchanged, and his eyes glittered like those of a predator who had his prey right where he wanted it. "She's not yours, Damian. Remember that."

He turned and disappeared into the shadows of the alley, his laughter echoing softly and mockingly in the darkness. I stood there breathless, my fists still clenched, the throbbing in my face a steady beat against the crumbling facade of my control.

Marco appeared beside me, the concern in his eyes seemingly draped by an invisible barrier. "You okay, boss?" His voice sounded muffled, surreal.

"Yeah," I lied brittlely, a poor consolation for the chaos inside me. Jax had shown he had no inhibitions about playing his cards.

The taste of blood spread through my mouth, while the pain in my cheek swelled with every heartbeat. But worse was the rage inside me that Jax had caused. He knew about Celine, and he would use the information against me.

I gritted my teeth, raising my fists as I walked. The cold blade of night increased the fire inside me. If he even dared to touch her...

"I swear, Marco," I hissed, my angry voice seeping into the darkness. "If he dares touch her, he dies."

Marco raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with you, Damian? Since when do you let him provoke you like this?"

My answer - a silent, dark look.

Marco stepped closer, his gaze searching. "Not because of her, is it? ....Your stepsister? ....Wait ... Are you serious or ... do you fancy her?"

His words burned and shattered my self-control like glass. I grabbed his collar and pulled him close to me, my eyes sparkling like burning coals, radiating pure rage.

Marco looked at me silently for a second before shaking his head. "You know, Damian, this is a really dangerous game you're playing here. You're the boss - you should have a better grip on your emotions."

I let out a bitter laugh that echoed in the silence of the alley. "Feelings ?" I shook my head and averted my eyes, as if I could ignore the chaos inside me. "That has nothing to do with it. She's just my stepsister, that's all."

But even as I said the words, I knew I was lying to myself. Every time I looked at her, every time I heard her voice or caught her scent, a part of me seemed to lose the ground beneath my feet and I hated myself for it. It was wrong, it was dangerous, but I couldn't stop this burning desire for her from getting stronger and stronger.

"You know," Marco said quietly, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he looked at me with a piercing gaze. "I've never seen a woman upset you so much in all these years."

"Shut up, Marco," I growled and turned to leave. "I don't need a psychologist."

But his words burned into my brain like a fire I couldn't put out.

"OK Damian...I don't think there's much more to do tonight...we should go home...and you should take care of your wound...that doesn't look good!"

Marco was right, I had to take care of the wound. But that also meant I had to get back to the villa. Back...to her.