"Tyler!" Olivia's voice is tight with alarm.
"Get outside," I tell her, not taking my eyes off Devin. "Now."
For once, she doesn't argue, moving quickly toward the door.
Devin pushes himself up, blood streaming down his face, eyes wild with rage. "You're fucking dead," he spits, reaching behind him.
I see the glint of metal, a pocket knife, and move instantly. Before he can fully extend the blade, I've closed the distance between us. My first strike hits his wrist, sending the knife clattering to the floor. My second is a short, brutal punch to his solar plexus that doubles him over, air whooshing from his lungs.
I grab him by the throat, forcing him upright and back against the wall. His eyes bulge as my fingers tighten just enough to make breathing difficult but not impossible.
"Listen carefully, you piece of shit," I say, my voice deadly quiet. "This is your only warning. Stay away from Olivia. Don't call her. Don't text her. Don't even think about her. If I hear you've been anywhere near her, I will come back here and finish what you started today. And trust me, you won't walk away from that."
He claws at my hand, face reddening. I ease the pressure just enough to let him speak.
"Who... the fuck... are you?" he gasps.
"I'm the guy who's going to make your life a living hell if you don't leave her alone." I lean closer. "I'm the guy with brothers who know how to make people disappear. I'm the guy who's seen and done things that would give you nightmares for the rest of your pathetic life."
Fear finally registers in his eyes. Good. Fear is the only language men like Devin truly understand.
"She's protected now," I continue. "Not just by me. By my entire club. Remember that before you do anything stupid."
I release him suddenly, and he slumps against the wall, coughing and clutching his throat. The bar has gone completely silent, everyone watching the scene unfold.
"We clear?" I ask, stepping back but remaining ready.
He glares at me, hatred burning in his eyes, but the fear is still there too. He nods once, a jerky movement.
"Say it," I insist.
"We're clear," he rasps, voice rough from my grip.
"Good choice." I turn to the bartender, who's watching with wide eyes. "Sorry about the mess."
I toss a fifty on the bar to cover the broken glasses and walk out, not bothering to look back at Devin. My heart is pounding with adrenaline, the familiar battle focus narrowing my world to threat assessment and exit strategies.
Outside, Olivia is waiting by my bike, her face pale, eyes anxious.
"Are you okay?" she asks, scanning me for injuries.
"I'm fine. He's the one who's going to be hurting tomorrow." I check her over as well, making sure she's unharmed. "You good?"
She nods, but her hands are trembling. "That was... intense."
"He pulled a knife, Liv. It could have been worse."
Her eyes widen. "A knife? Oh my God."
"It's handled." I grab our helmets from the bike. "Let's get out of here before someone calls the cops."
She takes her helmet with shaking hands. "Will he... do you think he'll listen? Stay away?"
I glance back at the bar. Through the window, I can see Devin still leaning against the wall, blood on his face, watching us with impotent rage.
"He'll listen. For now at least." I help her with her helmet. "But we need to be careful. Men like him don't let go easily."
"What if he comes after me? Or you?"
