“What kind of statement?” I ask.
Finn lifts his eyes back to mine. No jokes left in them. Just weight.
“That we were done riding the way we used to,” he says.
It clicks.
The bikes parked behind the bar. The way men at The Hollow watch doors instead of people. Ryder’s constant awareness. Zane’s instinctive scans. Finn’s charm as a shield.
I don’t say it.
But I understand.
“And someone didn’t like that,” I murmur.
Finn lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Understatement of the year.”
That seals it.
“What about the truck?” I ask quietly. “What about my locket?”
Finn’s expression hardens.
“Those aren’t coincidences,” he says. “They’re pressure. A reminder. Someone letting us know they can reach into our space. And perhaps you being seen with me made someone think we’re a serious thing.”
My stomach twists.
“So they might come for me?” I whisper. “To get to you.”
Finn nods once. “And because you’re visible. New. Soft enough to look like leverage.” His mouth twists. “No offense.”
“Some taken,” I mutter faintly.
He almost smiles. Almost.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “For the jokes. For not reading the room. For any part of this that touches you.”
The apology feels real. That scares me more than the flirting ever did.
“I didn’t come here to be someone’s weakness,” I say.
Finn straightens. “You’re not.”
“You’re not a liability, Aurora,” Zane agrees. “None of this is your fault. It’s ours.”
I look between them. Men who carry their pasts in their posture. In their scars. In the way they never fully relax.
They didn’t just buy a bar.
They ran.
And whatever followed them?
It didn’t forget.
This isn’t just danger circling closer.
It’s history catching up.
