He smiles thinly. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“I already did.”
His eyes harden. “You don’t know what you’re inserting yourself into.”
I’ve heard that line before. Men talk like that when they think they can scare you into backing down.
I don’t bother explaining what I know.
I let my voice drop, quiet and mean. “Say one more word to her and you’ll leave here bleeding.”
Evie makes a small sound. I tighten my hold, grounding her.
The man finally looks around properly. Patched men at tables. The bartender watching. The fact that nobody here is on his side.
He lifts his hands slightly, a gesture that says he's reasonable. Like he’s doing me a favor.
“Fine,” he says. “I didn’t come to fight.”
“Good,” I reply. “Because you don’t stand a chance.”
Irritation flashes across his face, then smooths out again.
“This won’t remain like this,” he says.
He aims the next part at her, not me. He wants to get under her skin.
“Evie. I'm sure you’ll come back when you understand the cost.”
She goes cold on my lap.
My hand clamps at her waist, solid. “You’re done speaking to her.”
He looks at me now, and the pleasant is gone. “You can’t take her away from me.”
I lean in just enough for him to feel it. “Watch me.”
For a heartbeat he holds my gaze, pride weighing against pain.
Then he nods once, sharp with irritation, and turns.
He walks out like he owns the street outside too.
The door shuts behind him.
The bar exhales. Music swells back up. Laughter returns in cautious bursts. My brothers settle without a word, like they always do when a line gets drawn.
Evie is still in my lap, breathing like she ran miles.
I dip my mouth close to her ear. “You know him.”
She nods.
Her throat works. “My father. He… he made a deal.”
Heat flashes behind my ribs, the kind that wants to break things. I keep it leashed.
For her.
