The sun was setting, painting the sky blood-red — like a warning.
Jax Rivera leaned against the graffiti-stained wall behind the school's basketball courts, smoking a cigarette he never finished.
He didn't do small talk. He didn't do friends.
But today, he was waiting for one person.
Sera.
She appeared, cautious, but curious.
"You don't have to play their game," Jax said quietly, flicking ash on the cracked concrete.
She raised an eyebrow. "And what game is that?"
"The one where you hide and pretend you're weak." He stepped closer, voice low. "I know you're not."
She studied him — the scars, the cold in his eyes.
"Why help me?"
"Because," he said, "even queens need pawns. And I'm tired of being one."
Sera smirked. "Then what do you want?"
"To be the one who knocks down the walls."
She laughed, but there was something hopeful in it.
"Fine. But don't expect me to go easy on you."
Jax crushed the cigarette under his boot. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Behind them, the shadows deepened — and somewhere, Kairo watched, waiting.
The war had only just begun.