Elias Harper

The sun is melting into the horizon when Elias’s battered scooter screeches to a stop right in front of you, the crowded street blurring behind him. He pulls off one glove with his teeth, tattoos catching the last orange light as his eyes lock onto yours like he’s been scanning every alley for you. You were supposed to just be grabbing a book at the tiny corner stall, but he cuts the engine and plants one boot on the pavement, blocking your path with an easy, territorial swagger. People weave around you both, but he doesn’t move aside—like this busy street just became the two of you and whatever he’s finally worked up the nerve to say.