Page 55 of Broken Blades

Too believable.

Too easy.

She fit there. Against my side. Under my arm. Like she'd done it a hundred times instead of once. Like her body had already decided what her mind refused to accept—that proximity to me wasn't a threat.

I didn't like that. Didn't like how her trust felt heavier than her fear would have. Didn't like that some part of me—small, buried, suffocated under years of calculated cruelty—wanted to be worth that trust.

I kept my face flat. Unreadable. Gave nothing away.

Our fingers brushed.

She looked up at me.

Those dark-shadowed eyes. Still tired. Still wary. But something else flickered there now. Something I couldn't name. Didn't want to.

The barista called out the order. I moved to grab the cups.

"Wonder if I can get a turn after she gets tired of fucking an old man."

My entire body went cold. The kind that settled in my chest before I made someone regret opening their mouth. The kind that preceded broken noses and penalty boxes and PR nightmares I didn't bother apologizing for.

I turned my head slowly. Located the source. Mid-twenties. Expensive jacket. Phone in hand like he'd been filming us. Smug expression that said he thought he was clever. Thought he was funny.

For a split second—just a flicker—the darkness I kept buried rose up like smoke. The part of me that had survived locker rooms and betrayals and burning buildings. The part that didn't forgive. Didn't forget. Didn't let disrespect slide.

I stepped slightly in front of her. Not thinking. Not planning. Blocking her. Shielding her from the angle. From his gaze. From whatever filth he was about to add to whatever clip he'd already captured.

My voice dropped. Low. Controlled. The kind of quiet that made grown men in full gear take a step back on the ice. "Say that again."

The man's face drained of color. His phone hand dropped to his side. Eyes widened. Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "N-nothing, man. Just⁠—"

"Just what?"

He stammered. Backpedaled. Literal steps backward like I'd physically shoved him. "Nothing. Sorry. I didn't mean⁠—"

"You did."

My jaw ticked once. Muscle jumping beneath the skin. I didn't move closer. Didn't need to. The air between us had already shifted. Everyone in the immediate vicinity had gone quiet. Phones lowered. Conversations stopped mid-sentence.

They were watching.

Good.

Let them.

Let them see exactly what happened when someone crossed a line with her.

With my⁠—

No.

Not mine.

Harrington's daughter.

The arrangement.

The leverage.