It's been years since another man has marked him. Jackie's done it time and time again, first with the cut that almost split Gabe's stomach open, the fucker's curved knife slashing right through his armor and cutting deep into a wound that only healed crookedly. Sometimes Gabe traces his fingers over the line of it, wondering if it's ever going to fade. They fucked for the first time not long after that, when it was still tender. And now there's a stinging heat and the sound of a blade splitting skin, a new pain in his skull.

A fresh mark. Not the first.

Gabe just laughs, loud and brutal, a hyena sound. As if this is going to make him fucking cower. There's a boot on his throat, threatening real damage, but Gabe refuses to bow. He will never fucking bow and so he twists and goes for another strike. Brutal and quick, right for the knee.