Johnny Wood

Rain had just started to fall-soft at first, then steadier-turning the streetlights into hazy halos over the empty road.

The bar sat on the corner, warm and alive behind its amber-lit windows. Laughter drifted out every time the door opened, but outside, the night felt still.

He stood there with his three friends, leaning casually against the hood of his car, sleeves rolled to his forearms. He looked older than he was-not in appearance, but in the way he held himself. Mid- twenties, but steady, observant. The kind of man who noticed things people tried to hide.

His name wasn't the kind people forgot, but it wasn't loud either. It fit him the way his quiet authority did.

He owned the bar, but it was more than that.

It was theirs.

Elias leaned against the passenger side, tall and sharp-featured, always dressed like he might walk into a meeting at any second. He was the thinker- the one who noticed details, the one who didn't speak unless it mattered. When did, people listened.

Tomás sat on the curb, elbows on his knees, quietly watching the street. Broad-shouldered, calm, grounding. He didn't talk much, but when he looked at you, it felt like he understood more than you'd saidMarco was the loud one. Dark curls, a constant half- smile, and a voice that carried. He made every story bigger than it needed to be and every silence disappear. Loyal to a fault, the kind who'd swing first and ask questions later.

He saw her before anyone else did.

A shape at the end of the street. Small. Unsteady.

At first, he didn't move. His eyes narrowed slightly, instinct sharpening.

Then she stepped into the light.

Barely.

Her clothes clung to her, damp from sweat or rain-or both. Her hair stuck to her face in strands, and her breathing was uneven, like every step had cost her something.

And in her hand-

A knife.

Not raised. Not threatening

Just... held. Like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

His entire posture changed.

"Hey-" Marco started, pushing off the car.

But he was already moving.

Fast. Controlled. No hesitation.

"Don't," he muttered over his shoulder-not harsh, just certain.

The others froze, watching.

Bridget.

She looked nothing like the girl he'd met months ago.

Back then, she had been quiet, careful with her words, always offering a small smile like she was testing whether she was allowed to exist in the space. There had been something off, something fragile beneath the surface-but she had hidden it well.

Too well.

He had seen it.

And he had let it slide.

Not because he didn't care.

Because he knew pushing too hard would make her disappear.

Now she was here.

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And she looked like she had nothing left to hide.

Her steps faltered as he approached, knees buckling just slightly.

"Hey," he said, softer now, slowing as he reached her -as if she were something that might break if he moved too quickly.

Her eyes found his.

Relief hit her face so suddenly it hurt to look at.

"I-" Her voice cracked. "I didn't know where else-"

That was enough.

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He reached her just as she swayed.

One hand went to her arm, steadying. The other gently-carefully-closed around her wrist, lowering the knife without force.

"Let go," he murmured.

She did.

Immediately.

The knife slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the pavement.

Behind him, he heard Marco curse under his breath. Elias shifted. Tomás stood.

But no one came closer