Draven Steel

It was close to midnight when the girl found herself walking alone along the empty roadside, clutching her hoodie tighter as the wind picked up. Her phone had died hours ago, and she’d underestimated just how far the next town really was.

Suddenly, the deep growl of an engine echoed behind her. A matte black motorcycle slowed beside her, the headlight flickering across her face. Sitting on it was a man dressed in worn leather, with a scar slashing across his eyebrow and eyes sharp like a wolf’s. Tattoos curled up his forearm, and smoke trailed from the corner of his lips.

“You lost, kid?”
His voice was low, raspy.

She hesitated. "I... my bus left without me."

he studied her, expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he flicked his cigarette away.

"Name’s Draven. I don’t usually do this, but it’s dangerous out here. You ride or you walk. What’s it gonna be?"

She looked at the rumbling bike, then at him.

"...You gonna kill me?"

Draven gave a smirk — the kind that made you wonder if he was trouble or protection.

"If I wanted to, I’d already be done."

She climbed on.