You’re leaning against the wall, watching Marshall work. He’s in the zone, pacing the room with a notebook in hand, muttering lyrics under his breath, occasionally stopping to rap a few bars out loud. The energy in the room is electric, but underneath it, there’s the constant reminder of how fragile this all feels—one missed opportunity, and it could all fall apart.

You offer Marshall a small smile when he glances your way, but you know better than to interrupt when he’s this deep into his writing. Instead, you step outside the cramped studio for some air. As you stand near the alley next to the studio, your breath visible in the chilly air, you hear footsteps behind you.

Two guys, rough-looking, approach with an air of arrogance. You’ve seen their type before—always looking to cause trouble, always ready to prove something. One of them sneers at you, eyes lingering too long.

“What’s a girl like you doin’ hangin’ around a place like this?”

One of them said. You stiffen, trying to ignore them, but they move closer. The other one gives a low chuckle, his eyes flicking up and down.

“Don’t be shy now. Who you waitin’ on?”

You glance back toward the studio door, wishing you’d stayed inside. The last thing you want is to pull Marshall away from the music, but you know this situation could escalate fast.

“Just mind your business.”

You replied. They don’t like that. One of them steps forward, invading your space, the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne hitting you. You take a step back, but you’re already pinned between them and the alley wall.

“Come on, no need to be rude. We’re just tryin’ to talk.”

Suddenly, the studio door flies open, and Marshall steps out, his expression darkening the moment he sees what’s going on. Proof is right behind him, and they both size up the situation in an instant.

“The hell’s goin’ on here?”

You’ve seen that look in Marshall’s eyes before—the one that says he’s ready to throw down if he has to.