I follow the signal to a bar I’ve never had a reason to step foot in before. And the second I walk through the door, I see her.
Back of the corridor. Low lighting. And him—hishands—on her.
Touching places that make my blood boil.
My jaw tightens. My fists clench. And just like that, every ounce of restraint I’ve been clinging to snaps like a frayed wire.
I don’t fucking think so.
“Nell!”
I don’t see anyone else—just them. Her. Him. That fucking hand.
I shove through the crowd, blind to the noise, the bodies, the stares. My focus is razor-sharp, and I don’t give him a second to explain. I don’t need one.
Training takes over.
I grab the hand buried where it doesn’t belong and twist—clean, controlled, unforgiving. He yelps, but I’m already moving, locking his arm behind his back and driving him down with a sharp press to the elbow.
He hits the floor harder than necessary. I don’t care.
He should’ve kept his hands to himself.
“Oi! What the fuck, mate?” he barks, already scrambling to his feet.
But I’m not looking at him, I’m locked on Nell. And she’s staring at me likeI’mthe one who crossed the line.
Is she serious?
“Stay the fuck down,” I growl, but of course he doesn’t listen. They never do.
He’s mouthing off, throwing curses like they’ll land harder than my fists. But I’m done with warnings. He leans against the wall for balance, and that’s all the opening I need.
I grab him by the collar, drive my knee into his face—once, twice—and he crumples like paper.
Lights out.
Night night.
But Nell doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Just glares at me like she wants to set me on fire.
“Really?” she spits. “You don’t want me, but no one else can have me either? That’s your angle?”
She’s furious, hurt—and I get it. But she’s wrong.
Dead wrong.
“I’m not letting any man put his hands on you,” I snap. “You didn’t listen to me before, Nell—but dammit, you’re going to listen to me now.”
I close the distance, stepping over the unconscious body like it’s nothing. The few people around us have fallen quiet, a few heads turning, but I don’t care.
I grab her face and crush my mouth to hers—rough, desperate, unforgiving.
I know I said I wouldn’t do this again. But she doesn’t understand what she means to me. And if this is the only way to make her feel it, then so be it.
“Fuck you!” she spits, biting down hard on my lip before slapping me clean across the face and storming out of the bar.
She’s driving meinsane!
