“That’s not reassuring.”
She shrugged. “It should be.”
We turned the corner and nearly collided with a guy who looked like he’d walked straight out of a magazine and into the wrong building.
He was pretty. There was literally no other word for it. His dark hair was styled just enough to look intentional. Tight shirt. Dramatic eyes that flicked over me, paused on the cut, then snapped back to Ember like he’d just connected several dots at once.
“Oh,” he said. “So this is happening.”
His eyes flicked to my cut and lit up even more.
“Soo,” he said, dragging the word out. “This is interesting.”
I blinked.
He grinned at me, wide and unapologetic. “You must be the problem.”
“I—what?”
“Relax,” he said quickly, stepping closer like we were already friends.
Ember sighed. “Rio.”
“Kellan,” he said immediately, pushing off the wall. “I know.”
“Of course you do.”
Rio grinned. “Hard not to notice when the President sends his walking declaration through the clubhouse.”
I blinked. “His what?”
“Relax,” Rio said quickly, holding up his hands. “I’m kidding. Mostly.”
He leaned in just enough to lower his voice. “And before you ask, yes. Everyone’s staring. No, you’re not imagining it. And yes, you are absolutely Lock’s problem now.”
Ember sighed. “Rio.”
“What?” He lifted his hands. “I’m being nice.”
He looked back at me, eyes bright, assessing… but not in a bad way. Not cruel.
He looked at me again, softer this time. “You okay?”
The question felt… real.
“I think so,” I said honestly.
“Good.” He nodded. “Because just so you know? No one here is touching you. Not without permission. And definitely not without losing teeth.”
“That’s… comforting?”
He smiled wider. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Welcome,” he added. “Try not to get eaten alive. I like you.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or panic.
As we walked away, Rio called after us, “If anyone gives you shit, tell them you’re busy being someone else’s problem.”
