"Leaving so soon?" His voice was too close, his breath hot against the side of my face. "We're just getting started."

I yanked my arm, hard, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened, pulling me closer, making it clear that I wasn't going anywhere. My heart pounded against my ribs, panic turning to ice in my veins. There was no outrunning this. Not now.

I swallowed, forcing down the rising fear as I lifted my chin, voice steady despite the tremble building inside. "Let go of me."

He chuckled, low and cruel, fingers digging deeper into my arm. "Oh, come on now. We were just having a little fun."

But there was no fun in his eyes. Just control and the kind of confidence that came from knowing no one would stop him.

My pulse thrummed, loud and frantic in my ears, but I didn't let it show. I met his gaze, locking onto those cold, arrogant eye. I could feel the strength in his grip, the way it tightened, a silent dare for me to fight back. But I had learned long ago that brute force wasn't always the answer.

I had to stay calm. I had to be smart.

"I said, let go," I repeated, my voice like steel, cold and unwavering.

For a moment, he hesitated.

There was just a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, like maybe he hadn't expected me to hold my ground. But then the smirk returned, the lazy grin twisting across his face. He leaned in closer, the stench of alcohol and cheap tobacco making my stomach churn.

"And I said," he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "we're just getting started."

The knot of fear in my chest tightened, but I didn't flinch. Didn't move. I couldn't let him see the panic that threatened to swallow me whole.

I jerked my arm again, harder this time, twisting my body with enough force to break his hold, at least for a second. He wasn't expecting the sudden movement, and I used that moment to step back, putting just a sliver of distance between us.

But he was faster.

His hand lashed out again, grabbing my jacket this time, yanking me back toward him with a force that nearly knocked me off my feet.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he snarled, his eyes flashing with something dar. The laughter, the mocking tone, was gone now. This was something else, something raw and cruel.

My heart hammered in my chest, panic threatening to overtake me. I wasn't going to get out of this alone. Not with three of them. No matter how many times I told myself I was strong, capable, I couldn't outmuscle them. I couldn't outrun them.

The reality of it crashed into me, sharp and unforgiving.

And then, out of nowhere, another voice cut through the night—a calm, steady voice that sent a shock of relief straight through me.

"Sweetheart," the voice drawled, low and dangerous, "there you are."

The voice was smooth, calm, carrying that lethal undercurrent. Relief slammed into me so hard I almost sagged where I stood.

Colt.

I turned, heart still racing, and there he was—Colt Langmore, stepping from the shadows like he'd been there all along. The brim of his hat dipped low, casting a shadow over his eyes, but not enough to hide the tight line of his jaw, the subtle clench that betrayed the storm beneath his calm exterior. Broad shoulders squared under the streetlight, he looked like he could stop the world from turning with just a word.

And I needed that kind of power. Needed it to carve a way out of this mess.

He didn't even bother to glance at the men, didn't acknowledge the tension curling around us like a noose. His voice was steady, deliberate, as he stepped closer, eyes flicking once to the hand still gripping my jacket. "I was starting to think I'd have to come looking for you," he said, low but with a warning that vibrated through the space. There was no outward sign of fury, no raised voice, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface, a quiet storm.

Colt tipped his head slightly, eyes never leaving the man's. "Didn't think I'd have to deal with this," he added, quieter now, more lethal in its calm.

My captor's grip slackened enough for me to take in a shaky breath and see the hesitation flicker across his face. But pride is a stubborn thing, and the guy wasn't quite ready to let go or admit he was outmatched.

"Boyfriend, huh?" the man sneered, but his voice lacked the same confidence from earlier. His gaze darted between me and Colt, searching for a crack, for anything that might let him regain control. "You don't look like her type."

Colt didn't even flinch. His steps were slow, measured, like he had all the time in the world. "I'm exactly her type," he said, his voice a low rumble that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. His gaze darkened, sharpening as it locked onto the man's eyes. "And you'll want to let her go now."

The authority in Colt's voice sent a chill through me. It wasn't just a command, it was a fact. A line drawn in the sand. And for the first time that night, I saw the man falter. His grip on my jacket loosened, and he stepped back, his confidence slipping further as Colt closed the distance between us.

Colt's eyes flicked to me, a brief grounding glance before he focused back on the man. "Or we're gonna have a problem," he added, softer now, more dangerous for it.

The guy swallowed hard, his friends lingering in the background, unsure whether to step in or back off. And for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of my heart pounding in my ears, the heavy thud of footsteps against the pavement as the man finally released his hold on me.

"Didn't mean no harm," the guy muttered, stepping back, his eyes not quite meeting Colt's. "We were just talking."

"Yeah," Colt said, his voice cold as ice. "I know what kind of talking that was."

The guy shifted, casting one last look at me that barely concealed the humiliation behind his forced smirk. Then he turned and motioned for his friends to follow.

I didn't realize I'd been holding my breath until they disappeared into the darkness, their footsteps fading into the distance.

The night fell silent around us, the darkness swallowing the last echo of their retreating footsteps. My pulse thrummed in my throat, uneven and quick, and for a moment, I couldn't move.

Couldn't think past the fact that it was over. Colt had made them walk away, just like that. But it wasn't relief I felt. Not entirely. It was more like trying to breathe through fabric, like something was still pressing against my chest even after the air had cleared.

Colt kept his eyes on them, shoulders drawn tight, jaw clenched like he hadn't taken a full breath in minutes. He didn't move. Didn't look at me. Not yet. Like he was waiting for the dust to settle, waiting for some quiet sign that it was really done. I stepped forward, slow, my boots dragging against the pavement, and somehow that sound, quiet and small as it was, was what pulled his gaze back to mine.

"Lemon," he said, and somehow it didn't sound like a name so much as a warning. Low, rough, shaped more by breath than voice. His eyes locked on mine, unreadable, like they were trying to drag the truth out of me without asking twice. "What were you thinking?"

It wasn't loud. He didn't have to raise his voice. But something in the way he said it made my spine itch. Not from fear. From the way it curled back toward condescension, like I needed a talking-to instead of a goddamn second to breathe. I wasn't a child. And he sure as hell didn't get to play the grown-up just because the adrenaline hadn't worn off yet.

"I was handling it," I muttered, though even I could hear how flimsy it sounded.

"Handling it?" His voice dropped low, but it lost none of its edge. If anything, it cut cleaner that way, slicing straight through the little scrap of confidence I was trying to hold together. "That's what you're calling this?"

I swallowed, the tightness in my chest burning hotter now, edging into something sharp. "I didn't need you to step in, Colt."

"You didn't need me?" He moved closer, just enough to crowd the space between us, like his presence alone was meant to prove a point. "If I hadn't shown up—"

"I would've been fine," I snapped, though the words felt like glass, sharp going out, but already breaking.

The truth sat closer than I wanted it to. That man's hand on my jacket. His smug little smirk. The way his voice curled through the night. It was all still too close. And Colt... Colt had stepped in like it wasn't even a question. Like it was instinct.

I hated that part of me had leaned into that. Needed it. Needed him. Even if I didn't want to.

Colt's eyes darkened, his mouth set tight. "You were outnumbered, Lem."

He didn't say it to scold me. Didn't even sound mad. Just quiet. Steady. Like he was holding up a mirror I didn't want to look into.

And the way he watched me, like he already knew how thin my bravery was stretched, like he could see the fear I hadn't named yet, made something inside me crack.

"I know," I said, quieter this time. The fight had already started slipping from my hands. My shoulders dropped. That sharp, useless rush of adrenaline fading fast, leaving just the weight of it all behind. "I know."

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The silence hung heavy between us, thick with everything unspoken. I should've said thank you. I should've told him I was grateful that he'd come when he did. But the words stuck in my throat, stubborn and unwilling to be voiced.

Colt didn't push. He just stood there, watching me, his expression softening, just a little. His eyes flicked to where the man had grabbed me, the faint marks still visible on my arm, and something dark passed over his face.

Then, his voice cut through the silence. "They said you were here with your boyfriend."

He said it like the word burned his tongue. Like he already knew the answer and just wanted to hear me say it wrong.

"What was that about?"

I froze. The question hit harder than it should have, but of course that's what they'd said. And of course he heard it. My mouth went dry. I tried to line up my thoughts, but they scattered, still spinning from the mess outside and the look in his eyes now.

"Rem was supposed to meet me," I admitted, my voice almost a whisper. The second the words left my mouth I hated how weak they sounded. How stupid I sounded.

"Rem?"

He said it like the punchline to a bad joke, like just the name itself proved how foolish I was for thinking Rem would actually show. He wasn't mad at me. Not exactly. But saying Rem's name out loud had flipped some switch in him, lit a fuse I didn't mean to touch.

"Yeah," I whispered, my throat tight. I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze, couldn't face the look I knew would be in his eyes. Shame twisted inside me, burning hot in my chest.

"And he didn't show." The words fell like stones, hard and cold. Colt didn't need to raise his voice for me to hear the accusation behind them. He wasn't asking, he was stating the obvious. Somehow, that made it hurt more.

"No." I shook my head, the lump in my throat bitter as it went down. "He didn't."

For a while, all I could hear was the wind humming low through the parking lot and the dull thump of bass spilling out from the bar. I didn't look at Colt, but I felt him anyway. The way he was watching me. The heat coming off him wasn't just anger. It was that tight, frustrated kind of silence that meant something had cracked. And not just because of Rem. Because of me.

"Jesus, Lem," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair like he wanted to rip the thought out by the root.

"Something must've come up," I said, though the words rang hollow the second they left my mouth. I didn't even believe them.

Colt's gaze never left mine, but there was a shift in the air between us, something colder, sharper. "Something more important than you?"

It landed too clean, too true. The kind of question that didn't need an answer because the silence already gave it one.

I opened my mouth, searching for something to throw between us. Some excuse. Some soft lie. Anything that would make this mess look a little less pathetic. But nothing came.

Because Rem wasn't here. He hadn't shown, and no story I could spin would make that mean anything different.

Colt's stare didn't waver, and the tension pouring off him felt too familiar, like he was holding all the things I'd tried to bury. The frustration, the sting, the hollow ache that came from betting on someone and realizing too late they were never going to show up for you.

Rem had always been the fallback. The safety net. And somehow, even knowing all his cracks, I still thought he'd catch me.

And tonight? Tonight, when I needed him the most, he wasn't here.

And somehow I was standing in front of Colt instead.

That truth sat heavy in the space between us, and for the first time I couldn't tell who I was angrier at. Rem, for not showing up, or me, for still believing he might.

Colt's eyes flicked toward the street, toward the stretch of dark where those men had disappeared. His jaw tightened like he could still feel them there, like their shadows were stitched to the pavement.

"Let's get inside," he said, voice low, still full of that edge. "Before they come back."