"Jessica. We both know it’s not fancy. You came to gloat."
She smiles wider. "Only a little."
I set my shears down. My hands don’t shake. Not anymore.
"If you’re here to complain about something again, I’m in a good mood, and I’d rather you not ruin it. Please leave."
Her eyes gleam, voice dropping into that cold, syrupy tone she’s perfected. "Oh, sweet sister," she says, dripping venom. "I don’t give a damn about your mood. I came because I found a way to make things better."
She leans in just a little, voice lowering like we’re sharing a secret. "Better for me. Not so much for you. A way to make you, and your little biker boyfriend, wish you’d never crossed me."
The hairs on my arms rise.
Before I can respond, the door swings open again.
Three men step inside.
They’re not locals. One glance tells me that. Tattoos in foreign alphabets inked along their necks. One of them wears a leather jacket with the kind of weight that speaks of something darker than style. The way they move, dangerously, sends a cold thread of dread through my chest.
"This her?" the tallest asks Jessica.
Jessica nods. "That’s Nya."
The man walks toward me with a kind of lazy menace. "We lost good money last night. Product. Transport. Men."
I take a step back, hand brushing the edge of the counter.
He smiles, but there’s nothing kind in it. "Someone’s gotta pay for that."
"The club will never let you—"
He laughs. Actually laughs. "The club’s not here. You are all alone.”
Another one pulls something from his pocket. A rag. He starts toward me.
And that’s when the front door bursts open.
Viper. Havoc. Two other men, they call them prospects.
And Ghost.
The air shifts in an instant.
He’s in front of me before I can blink, his body blocking mine completely. Shoulders tense, rage etched into every line of him.
His voice is pure gravel, low and dead calm. “Touch her, and I’ll end you where you stand.”
The man holding the rag freezes.
Viper and Havoc fan out, hands near their weapons, not drawn but clearly visible. The prospects move in behind them, expressions carved from stone.
Jessica backs away slowly, her eyes wide now.
Ghost doesn’t even look at her.
“We’ve been watching,” Viper says, his gaze locked on Jessica. “Ever since your little tantrum at the festival. We knew you’d try something.”
“You were never alone,” Havoc adds. His voice is low and steady. “Not for a second. You’re one of us now.”
