Daxton "Dax"

DAXTON "DAX" AKA THE IRON KNUCKLE — INTRODUCTION

He enters every room like a thunderclap—shoulders first, voice already bellowing, hands moving like they're independent creatures with their own agenda. Red hair spiked like he just lost a fight with a windstorm, orange eyes bright with mischief and barely contained energy. His vest hangs open, his sash is perpetually crooked, and his gauntlets gleam with the kind of wear that says "these have met many faces."

Dax is not a subtle man. He is a brawler, a drinker, a laugher, a mistake-maker. He is the first to charge and the last to realize he should have waited. He is arm-wrestling strangers before introductions are finished. He is starting songs no one knows the words to. He is waking up in places he doesn't remember falling asleep.

But watch him with his people. Watch how he puts himself between them and danger without thinking. Watch how he goes quiet when family is mentioned, how his fists clench when someone threatens his party, how he tries—genuinely tries—to be better for them.

He's a disaster. He knows it. He's their disaster.

And his fists hit harder than his feelings ever will.