"Closing." She moved out of Dante's grip, needing distance. "Everyone out. Now. I'll comp your tabs tomorrow but I need you gone tonight."
The crowd hesitated, then slowly dispersed. Concerned looks. Muttered support. Promises to stand with her when the Council hearing came.
Empty words that did nothing to ease the shame burning in her gut.
The tavern cleared until only Dante remained, standing by the door like he hadn't heard her order to leave.
"That includes you," Maeve said.
"I know." He didn't move.
"I said everyone out."
"I heard you." He locked the door, flipping the sign to closed. "Not going anywhere."
"Dante—"
"You can yell at me if you want." He moved to the bar, settling onto his stool. "Tell me I made you look weak by holding you back. Tell me to mind my own business. Tell me whatever you need to get out of your system. But I'm not leaving you alone after that."
"I don't need a babysitter."
"Good thing I'm not offering to babysit." His amber eyes held hers, steady and sure. "Just offering to sit. While you process. While you decide whether to throw glasses or cry or burn down the world. Whatever you need, I'm here."
Maeve wanted to argue. Wanted to throw him out with everyone else and be alone with her rage and shame along with the feeling that Hector had stripped away every defense she'd built.
But looking at Dante sitting there, solid and patient and refusing to leave, something in her cracked.
No, she reminded herself as she tried to repair the crack and remain unbothered.
But it was too late, she already knew.
18
DANTE
He should have walked out when she said she was closing.
Instead he sat there, elbows on the scarred bar, watching Maeve try to hold herself together with a rag and a straight spine. She was all sharp cheekbones and clipped movements, short black hair mussed from the fight, lips set like she was holding back a storm. The empty tavern felt too big around her. The hearth clicked and settled. Snow pressed its cold face to the windows.
“Last chance,” she said softer this time but still not looking at him. “Go home.”
“No.”
Her eyes cut to him, gold sparking. “You like ignoring me.”
“I like being here,” he said. “With you.”
“Don’t make this about comfort.” She tossed the rag into the bucket and came around the bar. The scent of spiced honey and whiskey lifted with her, the one that always belonged to Maeve. She stopped two feet away. “You think you helped me tonight.”
“I know I did.”
“You also made a scene.”
“He was making one at your expense.” He stood, the stool scraping back. “I won’t apologize for putting my hands on you if it kept Hector from getting a show.”
She stepped closer until he could see the flecks of dark brown in her gold, the pupils blown wide. “Don’t touch me to prove a point.”
He swallowed, heat rising, anger mixing with something darker. “Then tell me not to.”
