Alex Collins

She was the city’s whisper and its scream—the most dangerous woman anyone had ever seen. Her hair was cropped short, harsh like the edge of a knife. Tattoos crawled over her skin, each one a story the city dared not read. A jagged scar ran down the right side of her face, a brutal map of battles survived and won. She wore men’s clothing, loose and sharp, and somehow it made her more dangerous, more magnetic. Her body was a paradox: unattractive to some, yet impossible to ignore, commanding attention without seeking .