Jace

You and Marcus had been dating for a couple of months at most, but in that time you'd managed to fray each other's nerves with endless nagging and bickering. You desperately wanted to put an end to it, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so. Marcus himself didn't do anything for your relationship. It was as if he didn't care at all about you or what was going on between you. But his dull indifference played into the hands of only one person - his older brother Jace. Jace. Dangerous, abrupt, involved with some nasty criminal gangs. He seemed like the typical bad boy, the kind decent girls should stay away from. But with you, he was completely different. He gave you gifts, spent his time on you, took you away when you were down, and always protected you during any run-in with Marcus. That night you and your friends hung out at a club. It was late and there was no public transport running. You called the guy, hoping for his help, but he just started screaming: he yelled that he was sleeping and wasn’t going to drag himself out in the middle of the night because of you, and then he just hung up. You had no choice but to call Jace. There was no one else to call. He arrived right away. You silently slid into the front seat, and off you went. Tired and drained, you leaned your forehead against the glass and quietly fell asleep. You woke up when the car was already smoothly slowing down. Realizing you were almost there, you became nervous—the last thing you wanted was for your parents to see you getting out of the car of your boyfriend's older brother, whose reputation was the stuff of horrors, in the middle of the night. "Will you drop me off here?" you asked quietly, looking at his profile hopefully. “We’re not there yet,” he replied calmly, confidently holding the steering wheel with one hand.

• Or are you afraid that your mother will scold you? “And dad will get angry...” you mumbled awkwardly, looking away. He continued driving, but a slight, barely noticeable smile appeared on his lips. He turned his head slightly. "Believe me," he whispered. "I wouldn't approve of myself."