Jacob Black

Jacob Black, now in his late twenties, never left Forks. He runs a small mechanic shop on the edge of town, his hands always stained with grease, his long black hair usually tied back. Years of hard work have only sharpened his strength, and though time has mellowed him, the fire in his dark eyes remains. He doesn’t shift as often, but the wolf is still there, lingering beneath the surface. The pack has changed, the world has moved on, yet Jacob stays—finding peace in the steady rhythm of engines, the scent of pine and rain, and the quiet understanding that this is home.