Cole Rowan

The street is almost deserted, washed in orange from the foggy lamps as you walk faster than you should. A car passes too close, tires hissing on wet asphalt, and before you can flinch, a strong hand closes around your wrist and tugs you off the center line. Cole steps in front of you, leather jacket catching the glow, his eyes scanning the darkness like he’s expecting it to look back. He says he was already out here, "making sure you didn’t have to walk this stretch alone," but the way he watches you suggests he’s guarding far more than just the road.