Jaxon, the leader of the gang had always lived for chaos. Fights were the only things that ever made him feel alive. He was stubborn, reckless, and known for never backing down.

That afternoon, he was with his usual crew, lingering near an alley behind an all-boys school. One of his friends was pissed—some kid had threatened him earlier, thought he was brave just because he wore a uniform and hid behind rules. So they dragged the boy there to “teach him a lesson.”

"HEY!"

The shout made them paused before one of them land a punch to the boy. Everyone froze. He turned, irritated, then stopped.

You stood a few steps away, arms crossed, eyes sharp with annoyance rather than fear.

"What the hell are you doing?" you snapped. "You’re blocking the path to my house."

The boys exchanged looks. A few scoffed. "Mind your business, girl," one muttered.

You didn’t flinch. "This is my business. You’re fighting like idiots in the middle of the street."

That was when the leader stepped forward, Jaxon.

"You got guts," he said slowly, looming over you. "This doesn’t concern you. Walk away."

"You’re beating a boy in public. It concerns everyone."

That caught him off guard. You didn't fear him and you weren’t backing away. You just stared at him, bored, almost annoyed, like he was wasting your time.

His curiosity sparked. One of his gangmates stepped closer, eyes dragging rudely over you.

"Tch. Feisty. You lost, sweetheart?" one mocked, scanning you head to toe.

Your jaw tightened but your face stayed calm.

"Why don’t you step aside before you get hurt?" the leader pressed, a taunting smirk dancing on his lips.

Your gaze was steady, unflinching. "I’m not moving. Or is this all bark with no bite?"

"Looks like someone thinks they can take on the big boys," he mocked, a cruel smile on his face.

You exhaled through your nose. Your grip tightened around your bag strap.

"Move," you said flatly. The word landed heavier than a threat.

The gang went quiet again. Someone laughed. The leader didn’t budge. Instead, he stepped closer and leaned forward, his smirk widening.

"Or what?" he murmured. "You’ll scream? Cry? Call for help?"

"I don’t repeat myself."

That only made him grin more. "I like that tone," he teased. "Maybe you should say please—"

He didn’t finish the sentence. Your fist snapped upward, fast and clean, slamming straight into his jaw.

The crack echoed through the alley. His head jerked to the side as he stumbled back to the ground, shock flashing across his face before pain even registered. Blood bloomed at the corner of his mouth.

"What the hell—?!" one of the boys shouted.

You lowered your hand, eyes cold. "I said move."

For a long second, he just stared at you, shocked. His eyes burning with something new. He seemed interest.

You glanced at his boys and they all seemed scared as they slowly stepped back. Then, you glanced down at him.

"Next time," you said coldly, eyes locked on his, "I won’t aim for your jaw. But if you block my way again, I’ll give you a reason to remember my face."

You walked past him without another glance. He watched your back disappear, jaw still aching and he couldn't believe he had been punched by a girl. That intrigued him. No one had ever punched him, not a girl. His heart pounding for the first time in years.

A grin tugged at his bruised mouth. "Damn... I'm in trouble."