My hands kept movin’ on instinct while my attention wandered where it damn well pleased. I nodded when someone spoke. Poured when a glass hit the rail. All of it automatic.
Because Lark was out there again.
She worked the floor calm and deliberate, like she’d already learned what chaos could cost if you didn’t respect it. Tray balanced easy. Eyes movin’ without panic. Not jumpy. Just alert in that quiet way that told me awareness hadn’t been optional once upon a time.
That kind of thing sticks with a person.
I told myself to look away. Told myself she didn’t need me hoverin’ every damn second.
Didn’t take.
That’s when I saw him.
Corner table. Button-down with the sleeves rolled like he thought it made him relatable. Gold watch catchin’ the light every time he lifted his glass. The kind of man who mistook money for permission and charm for entitlement.
He leaned forward when she stepped in to drop his change.
Too close.
“Hey there,” he slurred, eyes droppin’ to her hands. “What happened to you, sweetheart?”
Lark stilled.
Just a beat. Barely nothin’. Long enough to tighten somethin’ in my gut.
Before she could pull back, he reached out and caught her hands, turnin’ them palm up like she was somethin’ to examine. His thumb brushed the faint burn marks, curiosity dressed up as interest.
My vision tunneled.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he said, squintin’. “That gotta hurt. Kinda pretty though, in a rough sort of way.”
Lark’s smile came slow and polite, sharp as broken glass. “Let go,” she said. Quiet. Firm. Southern soft, but there wasn’t a damn thing soft about it.
He didn’t.
Devil’s voice carried from the bar, low and warnin’. “Don’t.”
Too late.
I was already movin’.
By the time the bastard looked up, my hand was locked around his wrist, twistin’ just enough to make a point. Bone shifted under my grip. His curiosity curdled into panic real quick.
“She told you to let go,” I said evenly. “Now I’m gonna ask you once. You deaf, or you just stupid?”
His chair scraped back hard. “Hey, man, I was just—”
I tightened my hold a notch. Felt the tremor run through him. “You were just touchin’ somethin’ that’s not yours.”
The room went thin and watchful. That charged hush where everybody pretends they weren’t lookin’ while they soak in every second.
Then her hand closed around my forearm.
“Chain.”
Soft. Careful. Familiar in a way that settled me even while the fire stayed lit.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I handled it.”
