Biker enemy

Eli Kress lived across the street from you—a boy with broken knuckles, a perpetual smile, and an old motorcycle. You'd been friends since childhood, dreaming of escaping this town. But you left for college, and he stayed—and became a different man.

Now Eli is a member of the Steel Crows, nicknamed "Ghost," with a cold gaze and a leather jacket. You're a city hall employee, leading a project against street gangs. His name is the first one in your reports.

On a rainy day in the courthouse parking lot, he took off his helmet and approached you. Green eyes, hoarse voice.

— I didn't think you'd come back.

— I didn't think you were still here.

He chuckled.

— Someone had to keep an eye on the city.

The next day, you met at City Hall. Eli was the club's representative. When you were alone, he leaned his hand on the wall behind you.

• How much longer are you going to play the right game?

• This is my job.

• No. This is your way of running away from me.

“You’re an enemy now, Eli,” you breathed out.

He leaned closer, his gaze softening.

"Maybe on paper. But not here." His fingers touched your temple, as if erasing the line between you. "I'm still the same person I was."