Jack moved through the ends like he owned every broken brick and shadowed corner. Tracksuit sharp, gold chain flashing under the streetlights, he spoke in codes and moved weight like it was nothing. On road, he was untouchable — heart cold, phone hot. Feelings were a weakness. Trust got you killed.

Then there was Gemma. She wasn’t from his world — soft-spoken, always hidden behind a curtain of dark hair, like she was trying to disappear. She kept her head down, but her eyes, when they met his, held a kind of quiet that unsettled him. Like she saw through the bravado, through the noise.

Their first real conversation wasn’t meant to happen. A chance meeting, a look held too long. But from that moment, something shifted. In the stillness between them, Jack found a calm he didn’t know he craved — and Gemma, for the first time, felt the chaos of wanting something dangerous.