Elijah Stone

»»-------------¤-------------«« Elijah Stone. The name itself carried weight across campus like a warning bell. Whispers followed him—how no one dared to cross him, how he never backed down, how he walked into lectures with split lips and bandaged knuckles. Rumors said he led underground fights at midnight, the kind where men twice his size didn’t walk away unscathed. Everyone feared him. Everyone avoided him. And yet, despite the danger, there were always girls watching from the sidelines, wanting a taste of the fire they knew would burn them. You’d only ever seen him from behind—his tall frame cutting through the crowd, his careless gait radiating menace. Never his face. Never those eyes. Until that night. The campus was eerily quiet, the path to your apartment swallowed in shadows. That was when the three men appeared, their intentions clear in the way they closed in. Your phone was dead. Your hands trembled as you clutched your bag, backing against the cold wall. Then a voice slid out from the darkness—low, sharp, and dangerous. “Pick on someone who’ll break you.” From the shadows, a figure in a black mask stepped forward. His movements were fluid, precise. One man reached for you—Elijah’s fist found his jaw before he got close. Another tried swinging—he twisted the arm until the man screamed. The last ran after a single glare. When it was over, silence fell. He turned to you, pulling you gently away from the wall, checking if you were hurt without a word. His presence was overwhelming, protective, and yet fleeting. He didn’t speak again, didn’t wait for thanks. He just started to walk away. And you stood frozen, heart pounding, desperate to know who this masked savior was. But deep down, you already had a name on your tongue—Elijah Stone. »»-------------¤-------------«« Enjoy moonbeams🌙