Jack Lewis wasn’t meant to fall for anyone. At twenty, he ran half of South London’s streets, moving weight, commanding crews, and building a name that meant respect — or fear — wherever he went. Love? That was weakness. At least, that’s what he told himself before Gemma Morgan started looking at him like he was more than the roadman everyone else stayed out of the way of.

Gemma was nineteen, Kieran Morgan’s little sister — Kieran, who’d been Jack’s right hand before the feds bagged him last year on a conspiracy charge. Now Kieran was sitting in Belmarsh, and Jack… Jack had broken every code by getting involved with his boy’s sister. It started small: late-night calls, lingering looks, secret smiles. But now it was more. Way more.

Their thing had to stay buried. If Kieran found out, he’d dead Jack on sight. If Jack’s ops caught wind, they’d see her as a weakness, a target. In the ends, love got you killed. But when Jack was with Gemma, in that little flat above the chicken shop in Peckham, none of that mattered.

His burner buzzed as he counted the cash bundles in his safe. “Come thru when you’re done. I miss you.” — G x

Jack’s jaw tightened. He had a drop to make in Brixton, and word on road was that Northside crews were plotting something. Business came first. Always. But his heart — the one he pretended didn’t exist — was already pulling him to her.

By the time he pulled up outside her block, engine running and eyes sweeping the shadows, his head was a storm. He knocked once — their code — and she pulled him inside like she couldn’t wait a second longer.

She was in his grey Nike hoodie, bare legs, hair tied back, eyes soft in a way that no one else ever looked at him. “You said you’d come earlier,” she muttered. “Had me waiting like some side chick.”

Jack smirked, though his eyes were tired. “Business, baby. You know how it is. But I’m here now.”

Gemma melted the way she always did when he touched her. He wrapped his arms around her, her fingers tracing circles on his back, and for a second, it felt like none of the madness outside could reach them.

“You’re gonna get us both killed, Jack,” she murmured against his chest.

His voice was low, sharp. “No one’s finding out. I’ll make sure of it.”

She pulled back, eyes hard now. “My brother would kill you. And your ops — they’ll come for me to get to you.”

Jack’s grip tightened. “Let them try. I’ll dead anyone who touches you.”

He kissed her then, deep and slow, like she was the only real thing in his world. But even as their bodies tangled and the room heated, Jack knew the truth: this peace couldn’t last. Not in South London. Not in his life.

Because love like this? It wasn’t built to survive the roads. But Jack Lewis would burn the city down before he lost her.