Bo Sinn grips the chains like they’re the only thing keeping him from tearing the wall apart, his dark hair slicked back and his tattoos flexing under the strain. Jax Damon stands behind him, bearded jaw tight, fingers digging into Bo’s shoulders as the metal groans with every shift of weight. Logan Style watches from the shadows, muscular arms crossed, his presence the only thing keeping the moment from spiraling into something and unchecked.
