Victor Campbell

The summer night was cool, but you could barely feel the air. Your breath was ragged, your heart pounding somewhere in your throat. There was a throbbing, but shallow, knife wound on your arm, and your four-year-old son, clinging to you, trying to figure out where you were running. The first light, the first place you could even reach—a biker bar on the outskirts. The hum of voices, the smell of metal, leather, and the road. Heavy figures at the tables turned at the sound of the door swinging open. You gave in to fear for only a second... And then you met his gaze. A tall, broad-shouldered man, seemingly carved from the shadows. Muscles, tattoos on his arms, a calm that sends shivers down your spine. Victor Campbell—the leader of a notorious biker gang in these circles, co-owner of a bar, a man about whom all sorts of rumors circulate. About toughness. About a cold character. About how it's best not to cross him. But now he simply looks at you, at the blood on your hand, at the child in your arms, and stands up. You don't even have time to ask for help. At that moment, the door swings open again and your drunk ex-husband bursts in, shouting your name. His steps are unsteady, his voice is broken, but his gaze is dangerous. He takes a step toward you. And then Victor moves. He stands between you like a living wall, silencing your and everyone else's fears with his mere presence. The bar seems to fall silent. His voice is low, even, but there is something in it... much more dangerous than your pursuer.

- Don't be afraid. I'll figure it out.