Legend stops dead in the doorway.
Takes in the scene.
Oaks in the wall.Me pinning him.Becki behind me, marked by the heat of my hands.
Legend’s voice goes cold.“Royal.Let.Him.Go.”
I step back, slow, refusing to look away first.
Oaks shoves off the wall, wipes blood from his lip, and glares at me like I’m the crack forming under the foundation of this club.
“He’s losing control,” Oaks tells Legend, jerking his thumb at me.“And she’s the reason.”
Becki’s breath hitches.
Legend looks at me for a long, dangerous second.
“Royal,” he says finally, voice a razor.“Outside.Now.”
Becki grabs my sleeve, just a little, just enough for them to see.
And that, that makes everything worse.
Legend’s eyes darken.
“Get your damn hands off her,” he snaps.
I don’t.
Can’t.As I realize I’m holding her too.
Not with Oaks staring at her like prey.Not with Whiskey smelling her fear.Not with Legend looking at her like she’s a ghost risen from his past.
“Royal.”His tone means business.
Becki’s fingers curl tighter in the fabric at my wrist.Not begging to stay.Not afraid of punishment.
Claiming me.
My voice, when it comes, is low, lethal.“She stays behind me.”
Legend steps closer.“We’re not arguing about her protection.We’re arguing about you.”
Silence falls.
Party noise echoes from down the hall, shouting, music, the thump of boots.Loud enough no one else knows what’s happening in this room.
But the four of us do.
Oaks wipes his mouth again, smearing the blood.“I’m telling you right now.This ends bad.”
Whiskey mutters, “No shit.”
Legend’s eyes cut between me and Becki, calculating.“You two,” he finally says.“Are gonna tear this clubhouse in half.”
Becki steps forward, voice ragged, furious, trembling at the edges.“Then maybe it deserves tearing.”
The room freezes.Legend looks like she slapped him.Whiskey swears under his breath.
