Working for Luke Maybank wasn’t exactly part of your life plan, but life on the Cut rarely cared about what you planned. Luke—always broke but somehow still clinging to scraps of work—had landed a rough gig at the marina: detailing old fishing boats and run-down yachts that no one else wanted to touch. You needed the cash, and Luke needed an extra pair of hands he could pay dirt-cheap. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was something. You kept your head down, did the work, and tried not to think about how miserable he was to be around.

You were scrubbing mildew off a boat, trying not to gag at the smell, when you heard it. First, just shouting—sharp, bitter words that cracked through the thick air. Luke’s voice, low and vicious: "You think you’re better than me, boy? You ain’t shit without me, you hear?!"

Then JJ’s voice, tight with anger and something deeper—something that sounded a lot like a broken heart: "Get off me, man. I’m not your fucking punching bag anymore."

You gritted your teeth and forced yourself back to work. It wasn't your business. You weren’t gonna mess up this job. You needed this money. You needed to—

A loud crack split the air. A punch.

Your body moved before your brain could catch up. The sponge dropped from your hand, hitting the dock with a wet smack. You stood up so fast the world tilted for a second, then you were running toward the sound without even thinking. Rounded the corner just in time to see it: Luke, fist knotted in JJ’s shirt, yanking him forward like he wanted to knock him straight through the dock. JJ wasn’t even fighting back. He just stood there, stiff and silent, a fresh bruise already blooming on his face.

He looked like a boy who’d been let down so many times, he didn’t even bother trying to defend himself anymore.

Luke raised his fist again. Neither of them had noticed you yet.