7

Chapter 7

Aurora’s hands clenched into tight fists as she stepped out of the car.

She could feel it.

The danger.

It clung to the air, thick and suffocating, wrapping around her like a warning.

Liam stood a few feet ahead, his shoulders relaxed, his body calm, but there was something deadly in the way he held himself.

The men standing in front of him weren’t just waiting.

They were watching.

Calculating.

A man with a jagged scar running down his cheek took a step forward, cracking his knuckles with slow, deliberate ease.

“Blackwood,” he greeted, his voice low and amused. “Been a while.”

Liam didn’t react.

“Not long enough,” he said flatly.

Aurora’s stomach tightened.

This wasn’t a friendly reunion.

She wasn’t stupid.

She could see the way the other men shifted, their stance predatory, tense.

Liam was outnumbered.

Aurora inhaled slowly, trying to steady her pulse.

She shouldn’t be here.

She should have listened when Liam told her to stay in the car.

But it was too late now.

Scarface smirked, his gaze flickering toward her.

“And who’s this?” he mused. “Didn’t know you were babysitting these days, Blackwood.”

Aurora’s skin burned.

Liam exhaled sharply. “She’s not part of this.”

Scarface chuckled.

“That so?” He took another slow step forward, his eyes never leaving Aurora. “Because she looks part of it now.”

Aurora held her ground.

She wasn’t afraid of men like this.

She had grown up surrounded by monsters in expensive suits.

This was different, but the violence underneath it?

That was the same.

Liam shifted slightly, positioning himself in front of her.

The action was small, barely noticeable.

But Aurora caught it.

So did Scarface.

His smirk widened.

“That’s cute,” he said, tilting his head. “Didn’t think you were the type to protect someone, Blackwood.”

Liam’s jaw ticked.

“Last chance,” he said coolly. “You walk away now, or this gets messy.”

Scarface grinned, pulling a switchblade from his pocket.

“Oh,” he murmured, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

The world exploded.

One of the men lunged toward Liam, but Liam was faster.

He ducked, grabbed the guy by the collar, and slammed his knee into his stomach.

Aurora barely had time to react before another man rushed toward her.

Instinct kicked in.

She moved fast, dodging his grasp, her pulse hammering.

She wasn’t a fighter.

But she was smart.

She grabbed the nearest object—an empty glass bottle sitting on the sidewalk—and swung.

It shattered against the man’s shoulder, sending him stumbling back with a curse.

Liam turned at the sound, his eyes darkening when he saw her.

“Aurora,” he snapped. “I told you to stay in the—”

He cut off as another man threw a punch.

Liam dodged, grabbing the guy’s wrist and twisting it so hard a sickening crack echoed through the air.

Aurora barely had time to process it before Scarface moved.

He was fast.

Too fast.

Aurora saw the glint of the blade before Liam did.

Panic shot through her veins.

She didn’t think.

She just moved.

Before she could stop herself, she shoved Liam to the side.

Pain.

A sharp, burning pain shot up her arm.

For a moment, everything blurred.

Then she looked down.

Blood.

Her own.

Scarface’s blade had grazed her forearm, slicing through her jacket and skin.

Liam turned, his eyes widening when he saw the red staining her sleeve.

Something in him snapped.

He moved so fast that Aurora barely saw it.

One second, Scarface was smirking.

The next, Liam had him pinned against the wall, his forearm pressing into his throat.

Scarface choked, struggling, but Liam didn’t budge.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Liam murmured, his voice dangerously soft.

Scarface’s face reddened.

Liam’s grip tightened.

“Liam,” Aurora gasped. “Don’t—”

Liam didn’t move.

For a terrifying second, she thought he was going to kill him.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, he let go.

Scarface crumpled to the ground, coughing.

Liam turned to Aurora, his expression unreadable.

“You’re bleeding.”

Aurora exhaled sharply, still processing what had just happened.

“It’s nothing,” she muttered.

Liam stepped closer.

Aurora held her ground.

But her pulse spiked.

Because he was too close.

She could feel the heat radiating off his skin, could see the way his jaw was tight with restraint.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he said, voice low.

Aurora scoffed. “Neither should you.”

Liam exhaled sharply.

Then, before she could react, he grabbed her wrist, lifting her arm to examine the cut.

Aurora tensed.

His touch was warm.

Too warm.

For a second, she forgot how to breathe.

Liam’s fingers traced the edge of the wound, his brows furrowed.

Aurora hated that her stomach twisted at the contact.

“It’s not deep,” he muttered. “But it’s going to scar if you don’t clean it properly.”

Aurora forced a smirk. “Worried about me, Blackwood?”

Liam’s eyes met hers.

Something flickered.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he murmured.

Aurora felt that.

Deep.

Liam let go of her wrist, stepping back.

Scarface groaned from the ground, glaring at them both. “This isn’t over.”

Liam didn’t even look at him.

“Yeah,” he muttered, grabbing Aurora’s hand again. “It is.”

Before she could argue, he was already pulling her toward the car.

Aurora’s heart pounded.

Because she wasn’t sure if it was from the fight.

Or from the way Liam’s hand felt wrapped around hers.