Chapter 3

“Don’t touch her.”

My hand is already on his wrist before the words fully leave my mouth.

He winces.

Good.

The room hasn’t caught up yet—the music is still playing, glasses still clinking—but right here, between the three of us, everything has already changed.

His grip on her shoulder tightens out of instinct.

She flinches.

That’s it.

That’s the trigger.

I twist his wrist just enough to make a point—not enough to break it, just enough to remind him I could.

“Let. Her. Go.”

Each word lands slower. Heavier.

More dangerous.

Recognition flashes across his face.

Too late.

He releases her.

Steps back.

But his eyes stay on me, sharp, calculating. “You’re making a mistake.”

“No,” I reply calmly, positioning myself slightly in front of her without thinking. “You did.”

A beat of silence.

Then he laughs—but there’s no humor in it. “She’s with me.”

I don’t look at him.

I look at her.

“Is she?”

Maria doesn’t answer.

Her silence is louder than anything she could say.

The man notices too. His jaw tightens. “Tell him.”

Her fingers curl into her dress.

Her breathing stutters.

“…Yes,” she whispers.

A lie.

A weak one.

I almost smile.

“Try again,” I say quietly.

Her head snaps up, panic flashing in her eyes. “Please—just—”

“Tell the truth.”

“I can’t,” she breathes.

Not won’t.

Can’t.

That one word changes everything.

The man steps forward again, irritation slipping into his expression. “This is over. Come on.”

He reaches for her.

Bad move.

I intercept him faster this time, shoving his hand away with enough force to make him stumble.

A few nearby conversations die down.

People are starting to notice.

Perfect.

“Don’t,” I warn.

He straightens, anger rising now. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“And you have no idea what line you just crossed.”

The tension snaps tighter.

For a second, I think he might actually try something.

Then he hesitates.

Smart.

He exhales sharply, stepping back again. “This isn’t finished.”

“It never started for you,” I reply.

He glares—then turns and disappears into the crowd.

Gone.

Just like that.

Irrelevant.

I turn back to her immediately.

Maria hasn’t moved.

She’s still standing there like the ground might disappear beneath her at any moment.

“Are you hurt?” I ask.

She shakes her head too quickly. “No.”

Another lie.

I step closer, lowering my voice. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Her breath catches.

For a second, I think she might break.

Might finally say it.

Whatever it is.

Instead, she takes a step back.

Distance again.

Always distance.

“Why are you doing this?” she asks softly.

“Because you need help.”

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“You don’t have to.”

Her brows pull together, frustration mixing with fear. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know enough.”

“That’s not possible.”

“It is when someone walks into a room full of predators and looks like prey.”

Silence.

Her lips part slightly.

Hit.

I will step closer again. “Come with me.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“Leave. Now.”

“You’re serious.”

“Very.”

She shakes her head immediately. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I just can’t.”

There it is again.

That invisible wall.

I study her more carefully this time.

The tension in her posture.

The way she keeps glancing toward the crowd.

Waiting.

For him?

Or for something worse?

“Are you afraid of him?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer.

But her silence is louder than before.

Confirmation.

Something dark settles inside me.

Cold.

Controlled.

Dangerous.

“Listen to me,” I say, my voice dropping. “Whatever you think is holding you here—whatever he is to you—it ends tonight.”

Her breathing quickens. “You don’t understand—”

“Then explain it.”

“I can’t!”

The desperation in her voice cuts sharper than anything else tonight.

For the first time, I see it clearly.

This isn’t hesitation.

This is fear.

Real fear.

Not of me.

Of consequences.

Of something waiting on the other side of a wrong move.

“Maria…” I start, slower now.

Careful.

But she’s already shaking her head.

“No,” she whispers. “You should stay out of this.”

Too late.

Way too late.

“I don’t stay out of things that matter.”

Her eyes flash. “I don’t matter to you!”

Wrong.

Completely wrong.

“You do.”

No hesitation.

No doubt.

The words land between us like something solid.

Real.

She freezes.

For a moment—just a moment—her expression cracks.

Like she wants to believe me.

Like she almost does.

Then—

Footsteps.

Fast.

Behind her.

Her head snaps toward the sound.

Panic floods her face instantly.

“No…” she breathes.

I turn slightly—

And see him again.

Not alone this time.

Two men with him.

Bigger.

Meaner.

And definitely not here for conversation.

The atmosphere shifts.

Fast.

“Stay behind me,” I say quietly.

But she doesn’t move.

Because she’s already made her decision.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

And before I can react—

She runs.

Straight into the crowd.

Disappearing.

Again.

“Damn it.”

I move instantly, but the two men step into my path, blocking me.

“Sir wants a word,” one of them says.

I stop.

Slowly.

My gaze flicks past them—to where she vanished.

Gone.

Again.

My jaw tightens.

Fine.

I’ll deal with that.

First—

I look back at them.

Cold.

Unimpressed.

“Move.”

They don’t.

One of them smirks. “Don’t make this difficult.”

Too late.

I crack my knuckles once, stepping forward.

“You already did.”

Across the room, the music keeps playing.

People keep talking.

Pretending not to see.

But in the next few seconds—

That’s going to change.

Because one thing is certain now—

Whoever they are.

Whatever she’s running from.

They just made themselves my problem.

And that—

Is the worst mistake they could have made.