“Yeah but when do I get to be part of his world? I sit in his house alone like some kept woman waiting for scraps of attention.”
Ansley’s grip on the wheel tightens. “He cares about you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Like you insulted him by existing and he can’t get over it.”
“That’s the problem.” I laugh, but it’s bitter. “He looks at me like he wants me. Acts like I matter. Then runs the second things feel too good.”
Ansley side-eyes me. “So you think he doesn’t want you around?”
“I think…” The words feel heavy, real, and I hate them as soon as they form. “I think Blade loves the idea of protecting me more than he loves actually being with me.”
Ansley doesn’t sugarcoat shit. “That’s a hell of a thing to be dealing with six nights a week.”
I nod, staring ahead, throat tight. “He tells me to stay home, keep the doors locked. Like I’m made of glass. Meanwhile he’s out there risking his life like it’s Tuesday.”
Ansley flicks her turn signal and pulls into the diner lot, neon taco sign buzzing overhead. The place is busy, but familiar and safe. She kills the engine and turns fully toward me, voice steady. “You’re allowed to want more than being left alone in a house that isn’t yours.”
“I don’t want more club chaos,” I say quickly.
“No,” she agrees. “You want more Blade.”
My chest aches. “Yeah.”
We head inside and grab a booth near the back. The place smells like fried tortillas and grilled meat, and for the first time all day I think I might actually relax. Ansley doesn’t even ask what I want. She orders margaritas because, in her words, tequila fixes almost everything if you drink it fast enough. I try to play it cool, roll my eyes at her logic, but the first sip goes down easy. The knot in my chest loosens just a little. For two whole seconds, it feels like maybe tonight doesn’t have to be a disaster.
Then the door chimes.
I don’t turn right away, but my whole body goes stiff because I feel attention hit me like a spotlight. Slow. Heavy. Unwanted. Ansley notices the way I freeze and follows my gaze toward the entrance.
Three guys stroll in like they own the place. College boys. Fancy clothes. Too much cologne. And the exact same idiots from Perdition who already pushed their luck once this week. The ones Blade warned me about. Their smiles stretch wide when they spot us, like this is some kind of game.
Ansley mutters under her breath, “Great. These dickheads again.”
My heart spikes in my chest, the buzz from the tequila evaporating instantly. It’s like the air changes. Like the walls pull closer. Blade told me to stay home tonight. He wanted me somewhere he could get to fast. Somewhere safe. And I decided tacos were more important than listening.
Ansley leans in, keeping her voice low. “We finish the drinks and walk out. Nice and calm.”
I nod like that makes sense. Like we still have control of this situation.
But one of the guys lifts his beer in our direction and calls out loud enough for the whole diner to hear, “Hey ladies. Didn’t expect to see you without your bodyguards tonight.”
Ansley grabs my wrist under the table, fingers tight enough to cut off circulation. My pulse is hammering so loud I swear the whole room can hear it. I want Blade here so bad it hurts. I want his bike pulling up outside and his voice cutting through all the noise. I want him to be right. That I should’ve stayed home.
The server drops our second round at the table, completely unaware that everything just shifted. Those guys stand up like they planned this moment, like they were waiting for the perfect time. One of them cracks his knuckles like he’s trying to look tough, the leader adjusts his expensive jacket like he’s headed into a business deal, not whatever this is about to become.
The ringleader eyes us and jerks his chin in a way that makes my stomach drop.
“Come on, we’re havin’ a party,” the ringleader says, swaggering like he owns the air we’re breathing. “You girls just got upgraded.”
Ansley shoots up from her chair so fast her seat scrapes across the floor, and she squares her shoulders like she’s not five-foot-nothing. “Yeah, that’s gonna be a no,” she says, steady and sharp.
He steps into her space before she has a chance to move, beer breath hitting us both, and he puts a hand on her arm like he has any damn right to touch her. “Didn’t sound like I was askin’,” he says, with this arrogant grin that tells me he’s used to getting whatever he wants.
I stand, heart pounding like it’s trying to punch a hole through my ribs, and the edge of the table rattles under my hand. “Let go of her,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice level because panic is already clawing its way up my throat. “Now.”
His eyes drag over me slow, like he’s picking out the best part to grab, and a sick smile curls on his lips. “I like this one,” he says. “Got some attitude. Bet she puts up a fight.”
Ansley stiffens beside me, shoulders tight, and I can feel our breathing sync up like we’re bracing for impact. The diner isn’t loud anymore; it’s just the hum of the lights overhead and a couple people murmuring, watching but not stepping in. That’s the thing about fear. It makes crowds disappear. I knew better than to leave the house tonight. Blade warned me. He told me he needed to know exactly where I was. And like an idiot, I convinced myself that dinner would be harmless.
Another guy moves from his booth and blocks the exit like it was rehearsed. “Let’s go,” he says, jerking his chin toward the door. “Our ride’s waiting.”
