Awake The Sleeping Dragon ᴿᵉᵇᵒᵒᵗ(!TMNT!Brothers x !Fem!Reader)

10 ➪ Enjoy Your New Life

***

   I didn't know how to spend my day, with nothing to do, nothing to obey. My mind kept circling back to that stranger who rode off on the motorcycle. His scent lingered in my memory: a mix of strong, masculine cologne, peppermint, and a hint of beer. His face, too, was etched in my mind.
   He had a scar that ran from his left eyebrow, down his eye, and across his cheek, stopping at the corner of his left jaw. Stubble shadowed his face, and his eyes were strikingly different — his left iris was light brown, while his right was so dark it was nearly black.

   I began my search, letting his scent guide me. As I walked along the sidewalk, I followed the trail of his cologne, mingled with the smells of the city. It was like tracing an invisible line only I could see.
   I moved through the bustling streets, turning corners and crossing roads, weaving through small crowds of people. The scent often got muddled with the aroma of street food and other unfamiliar smells, but I persisted.

   Eventually, the trail led me to an open bar. I looked to my right and saw multiple motorcycles parked side by side. The man's bike was unmistakable, parked in the middle of the row. My heart pounded as I realized I had found him.
   I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and walked towards the bar. My fists clenched within the sleeves of my army jacket, and my bag was still slung over my shoulder. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

   The bar was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. A haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air, mingling with the smell of alcohol. People sat at the bar and around tables, talking and laughing.
   I scanned the room, searching for the man. My eyes adjusted to the low light, and I saw him sitting at a table in the back, a glass of beer in front of him. He looked up as I approached, recognition flickering in his eyes. 

   He raised an eyebrow as if he had been expecting me. I walked up to his table, my heart pounding in my chest. He took a slow sip of his beer, his gaze never leaving mine. "You're a persistent girl," he said, his voice deep and smooth. "I didn't think you'd find me so easily."
   I stood there, unsure of what to say. The scents, the sounds, the atmosphere — it was all new and overwhelming. But I knew I had to find out why he was watching me, and what he knew about me. 

   "You would be surprised," I replied, my voice steady despite my weariness. "Who are you? Why were you watching me?" He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Sit down," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.
   "Let's talk." He added before he nudged out the chair for me, slowly I sat down in front of him. As I settled into the chair, I couldn't shake the feeling of tension that hung thick in the air between us. 

   The man's gaze bore into me, sharp and penetrating, as if he were trying to decipher every secret hidden within my very being. I shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, my muscles tensing with every passing moment.
   Slowly, I set my bag on the floor beside my feet, keeping it within arm's reach as a silent reminder of my readiness to defend myself if necessary. My eyes never left his, a silent challenge reflected in their depths.

   "You look a little hungry," he remarked casually, taking a sip of his beer before setting it back down on the table. His attempt at deflection didn't sway me. I remained firm, denying to be sidetracked.
   "I'm not hungry," I replied firmly, brushing off his offer with a dismissive wave of my hand. "You wanted to talk, so let's talk. Why were you looking at me back there?" His lips quirked into a wry smile at my directness, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. 

   "Straight to the point, I like that," he remarked, his voice laced with amusement. "I was looking at you because I know you're not normal." I stayed quiet, "'Not normal'? That's it?" I questioned. He shrugged, grinning. "Oh, trust me, kiddo. You're not normal, those scars on your neck and brow say so." 
   I continued to glare at him, my eyes narrowing as I tried to read his intentions. His demeanor was too relaxed, too knowing. Every fiber of my being told me to stay on guard. "They're just scars," I said, my voice steady and firm. "I liked roughhousing when I was a child."