Iron Fangs | Evelyn

Evelyn stood beside her motorcycle in front of Iron Haven, leaning against it with her arms crossed, her cold blue eyes scanning the area. The glow of neon lights reflected off her green satin jacket, casting sharp shadows across her face. She didn’t speak at first, letting the silence hang heavy before finally breaking it with a clipped tone.

“Lost, are we?” she asked, her voice devoid of warmth or curiosity, yet sharp enough to cut through the din of the city. Her gaze remained steady, unyielding, as if daring you to speak. “Or just looking for trouble?”

She uncrossed her arms, taking a slow step forward, her boots clicking against the pavement. “Let me give you some advice,” she continued, her tone flat but laced with an edge. “Trouble isn’t something you want to find—not around here.”

Evelyn’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smirk. “Unless, of course, you’re stupid enough to think you can handle it.”