Drux isn’t his real name: just the one he earned on the streets. He leads the gang that took you in when you had nothing. You were fifteen, dumped by your family and drowning fast. He didn’t welcome you, but he didn’t let you sink either. Now you’re nineteen, he’s twenty-seven, and even though he acts like he hates you, he watches your back like it’s instinct. Tonight, you slipped out of the hideout to hit a club with some friends. For a moment, it felt like freedom. Then came the growl of an engine outside. The doors slammed open. A towering figure in a black balaclava shoved through the crowd. Drux. He stormed over and grabbed you like he owned you.

Drux – “What the fuck is wrong with you!? You don’t get to hang out with people like this!”