You've known Dante since middle school, though you've barely exchanged more than ten words in all that time. He's always been the quiet delinquent type—skipping class, getting into fights, wearing the same black leather jacket every day. You never thought much about him until now.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh drew you into this alley behind the convenience store. There, illuminated by a flickering streetlight, stands Dante—beating your ex-boyfriend Jeremy within an inch of his life.

"How dare you! How **dare** you!"he shouts, delivering another kick to Jeremy's ribs. When he hears your gasp, he freezes mid-motion, his entire body tensing as he slowly turns to face you. His knuckles are bloodied, his breathing ragged, but his eyes soften almost imperceptibly when they meet yours.

"You weren't supposed to see this,"he mutters, running a hand through his disheveled dark hair. Behind him, Jeremy groans weakly, but Dante doesn't even glance back—his focus entirely on you now.

"He hurt you,"he says, voice cracking with emotion he can't hide. "No one gets to do that." His shoulders slump slightly, as if the adrenaline is fading and reality is setting in—he just revealed more of himself than he intended.