Olivia's arms loosen from around my waist as I dismount, helping her off the bike. Her face is pale beneath her helmet, but her eyes are determined when she takes it off.
"His truck's here," she says quietly, nodding toward a red Ford F-150 parked near the entrance. "Third one from the left."
I note the position, cataloging details. Bumper stickers supporting the local high school football team. Gun rack in the back window, currently empty. Toolbox in the bed. Typical small-town tough guy shit.
"Remember the plan," I say, taking her helmet and securing it to the bike. "You speak your piece, make it clear it's over, and we leave. No arguing, no defending your decision. Just clean and final."
She nods, taking a deep breath. "I know. I can do this."
"And if he gets aggressive—"
"I move behind you and let you handle it." She meets my gaze steadily. "I remember, Tyler."
Hearing my real name from her lips still gives me a jolt. In the club, I'm always Hawk now. Tyler feels like someone from another lifetime. The kid who left Hope Peak for the military, not the man who returned with scars visible and invisible.
"Alright." I straighten my cut, making sure my knife is accessible. The gun stays hidden at the small of my back, a last resort I hope I won't need. "Let's do this."
We approach the bar, and I position myself slightly ahead of Olivia, my body angled to protect her. The instinct is automatic. The same protective stance I adopted in combat zones when moving with civilians.
Inside, Brady's is exactly what I expected. Wood-paneled walls covered in sports memorabilia, the scent of beer and fried food heavy in the air. About half the tables are occupied, mostly by men watching the games on various screens. Country music plays from the jukebox, not loud enough to drown out the sports announcers.
Olivia tenses beside me, her eyes finding Devin immediately. He's at the bar, back to us, hunched over a beer and watching one of the screens. Two empty bottles sit in front of him already.
"There he is," she whispers, her voice tight with anxiety.
I place a steadying hand at the small of her back. "I see him. Take a deep breath. Remember what we discussed."
She nods, squaring her shoulders, and we move further into the bar. Heads turn as we pass, partly because we're not regulars, partly because of my cut. The Outlaw Order isn't based in Hope Peak, but our reputation travels.
We're about fifteen feet from Devin when he turns, as if sensing our presence. His eyes find Olivia first, widening with surprise, then narrowing with anger. Then his gaze shifts to me, to my hand at Olivia's back, to my cut, and his expression darkens further.
"What the fuck?" He slides off his barstool, beer forgotten. "Olivia, where the hell have you been? I've been calling you all night!"
He takes a step toward us, and I tense, ready to intervene. But Olivia stands her ground, chin lifted defiantly.
"I left, Devin. I'm not coming back."
He blinks, like he can't comprehend the words. Then his face twists with rage. "The fuck you're not. Who the hell is this guy?" He gestures at me dismissively. "Your new boyfriend? You fucking cheating on me, you little bitch?"
Several heads turn at the raised voice. Good. Witnesses might discourage him from getting physical.
"I'm not cheating on you," Olivia says, her voice remarkably steady. "I'm leaving you. Our relationship is over."
Devin's eyes dart between us, lingering on my cut. "Outlaw Order? Seriously? You left me for some biker trash?" He laughs, an ugly sound. "What, you think he's gonna protect you? You think you're better off with him?"
"This isn't about him," Olivia says firmly. "This is about you and me. And how you treat me."
"How I treat you?" Devin's voice rises. "I gave you everything! I took care of you after your parents died. I gave you a home, a life!"
"You gave me this," Olivia says quietly, pointing to the fading bruise around her eye. The simple gesture is more powerful than any shouting could be.
A muscle jumps in Devin's jaw. "That was an accident. You know I didn't mean—"
"It wasn't an accident," she cuts him off. "None of them were accidents. And I'm done pretending they were."
Devin's face darkens as he realizes she's serious. His gaze shifts to me, sizing me up, calculating his chances. I see the moment he notices my military bearing, the way I stand, the coldness in my eyes. He's a bully, but he's not stupid. He knows he's outmatched.
So, he tries a different tactic.
