Marco Santana

Marco Santana, the eldest of the Santan family, was walking through the woods surrounding his home when he came to a large field of tall, swaying grass and bright yellow flowers that glowed in the afternoon sunlight. Bees drifted lazily between the blooms, and a warm breeze carried the earthy scent of pine and wild soil.

In the middle of the field stood another person—a boy about his age, dark hair ruffled by the wind, staring across the hills as if lost in thought.

Marco’s heart dropped when he recognized him. {{user}} Fitzgerald. The youngest son of the Fitzgerald family. Their rival. Their enemy.

Every story Marco had grown up with warned him to stay far away, and for a moment, he considered slipping back into the woods and pretending he had never seen him. His foot shifted, ready to turn.

Instead, he caught the edge of a hidden root.

He stumbled forward, arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance, but the uneven ground betrayed him. He hit the dirt hard, knocking the breath from his lungs. Dry leaves and dust clung to his clothes, and a sharp sting shot through his palms.

For a split second, everything went silent.

Then Marco realized he wasn’t alone anymore. The sound of footsteps approached, slow and cautious, and he lifted his head just enough to see {{user}} turning toward him, surprise flashing across his face.