Chapter 4 - The Rule I Can’t Break

Jacob’s POV

I WASN’T supposed to look at her.

Hell, I wasn’t even supposed to think about her.

But Lila Montgomery had walked back into this world like a goddamn flame, and every part of me wanted to burn in it.

She didn’t belong here anymore. I had known it the second she stepped onto the dirt in those ridiculous heels, the diamond on her finger flashing like a warning sign. The princess had traded leather and grit for silk and glass, and I should’ve hated it. Should’ve told myself she was gone, untouchable.

But all I could think of when her green eyes cut into mine was mine.

I had sworn I’d never touch her. I had promised her old man on his deathbed, “Keep her out of this world, Jacob. Don’t let the blood touch her.” I had promised Michael, her brother, too. She was off-limits. She was family.

But promises didn’t stop the ache in my chest when she stumbled, didn’t silence the snarl in my throat when I saw her clutching that slick bastard Adrian’s arm like he was her salvation.

I couldn’t stop watching her.

The vigil became a blur of voices and booze, but every time she shifted in the room, my eyes tracked her like I was hardwired to her steps. I watched her force that polite little smile while Vivienne dug her claws in, shoulders stiffening like a girl trying not to cry. I wanted to rip Vivienne’s painted mouth off her face for daring to speak poison into Lila’s ear.

But I stayed in the shadows, jaw clenched. Because that was what I always did. I stayed in the dark.

Except that night, the dark wasn’t enough.

I told myself she was soft. Too soft. She would never survive there. But then I remembered the way she lifted her chin when half the club sneered at her heels, the stubborn tilt of her jaw that mirrored her old man’s when he refused to back down. There was steel under the softness. I saw it, even if no one else did.

And that was what killed me.

Because I knew she didn’t belong here. But I also knew that the world would eat her alive if she stayed. And I didn’t know if I was strong enough to watch it happen.

“She waltzes back in after three damn years,” one of the guys muttered, shaking his head. “City heels clicking on the gravel like she’s too good for us.”

Another snorted. “Yeah. Trading leather for diamonds. The princess of Adrian Cross. Hell, the man parks his shiny import out front like he’s showing off at a car show.”

I didn’t bother to answer. Adrian stood a few steps away, stiff in his overpriced suit, looking like he’d swallowed a stick. If the words hit, he didn’t flinch.

Then Sam leaned forward, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Jacob.” His eyes pinned me. “Does she know yet? About who put a bullet in her old man?”

The air stilled. Every head turned my way.

My jaw tightened, and I folded my arms harder across my chest. “No,” I said flatly. “And she doesn’t need to. Not now. Not ever.”

Silence stretched. Some of the men frowned, others nodded like they understood.

Sam grunted and leaned back. “You’ll have to tell her someday.”

I glanced toward the house, toward the window where Lila’s red hair caught in the lamplight as she moved behind the curtains.

Adrian Cross. That bastard. Watching him strut around with his slicked hair and perfect suit made me want to put a fist through the wall. He touched her like she was an accessory. Like that diamond on her finger meant he owned her.

And maybe he did. She let him hold her like that, let him steer her with a hand at her waist. I wanted to tear him apart for it.

I remembered the night she left like it had been branded into the wood of the porch where we stood.

She had one suitcase, just one, the kind you could throw in a trunk when you didn’t want to look back. And I knew, even before I opened my mouth, that nothing I said was going to change her mind.

But I tried anyway.

“You don’t have to do this,” I told her. My voice came out low, rougher than I meant. Nothing fancy, just the truth clawing its way out of me.

She held the handle of that suitcase like it was a lifeline. Her jaw was tight, stubborn, the way she always was when she’d already decided. “I do,” she said. “I won’t be anyone’s half-life anymore.”

The words gutted me, though I didn’t let it show. I stepped closer, shadows swallowing us both, and for a second I thought she might look at me—really look—and see what she was walking away from.

“You think out there is better?” I asked, a bitter laugh catching in my throat. “You think he’s gonna keep you safe? Whole?”

Her eyes flickered, but her voice stayed steady. “He offered me a life I wanted. A world that isn’t this.”

I wanted to shake her, make her understand. Instead, I rapped my knuckles against the railing, sharp, angry. “This is what kept us alive. Your father built it with his bare hands, with his blood. He loved you the only way men like us know how. And you—” My throat locked. I couldn’t finish. Couldn’t say what I meant.

Because what I meant was me.

She shifted, like she might reach for me, but she didn’t. She never did. Neither of us crossed that line. I was the man who stood guard, not the man who took. Not from her.

“I can’t stay,” she whispered. “I can’t bury myself in bruises and petrol any longer. I’m not built for it.”

I blinked, and for the first time, the armor cracked. I heard my own voice, hollow, giving her what she wanted even though it ripped me open. “Then go. But don’t think you’ll find peace in a glass tower you built with someone else’s arms. People like us don’t get neat endings.”

Her chin lifted, proud, though I saw the flinch in her eyes. “Maybe I’d rather have a neat ending.”

I moved closer, close enough to breathe her in—lemon soap, oil, her perfume lingering like a ghost. My hand twitched toward the suitcase, then curled back at my side. Too cowardly to take what I wanted. Too proud to beg.

“Lila,” I said her name like a prayer, like a plea. “Don’t let them take your teeth. Don’t let them make you small.”

Her throat bobbed. “I won’t be small.”

But I heard the lie in it.

I laughed then, broken and bitter. “You want brave? Go. But remember what you’re leaving. Remember the men who’d bleed for you. Remember your father.”

She looked at me, and for one second, I swore she was going to say the thing we both carried but never spoke. She didn’t. She swallowed it down, same as me.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and the words sounded like a slap. Then she grabbed the suitcase and shouldered it. “Goodbye, Jacob.”

She didn’t look back when the door slammed shut.

My chest heaved as I ditched that memory of her, leaving the estate, leaving us who raised her to be strong. And now she was here again. A woman. A princess. But still clumsy, still soft, still lighting something in me I couldn’t kill, no matter how much I tried.

I had told her earlier, told her to run back to her glass tower. I had meant it. I wanted to scare her off. But the truth? I had only wanted to pull her close enough to smell her red hair again. I had wanted to hear her heartbeat stumble when I whispered in her ear.

I couldn’t have her. I knew that. But knowing didn’t stop the hunger. 

**

MICHAEL AND I decided to walk around the house before we went back to the barracks. And then from the Montgomery hallway shadows, I saw them again. Lila was standing stiffly by the door, trying to pull her arm back. Adrian’s grip was too tight on her wrist, his smile sharp enough to cut. She was nodding, pretending, but I saw it—the wince, the tiny tremor in her hand.

Rage ripped through me like wildfire.

The world narrowed until it was just them. Just him gripping her like she was something he bought, something he could bend and break.

“Jacob, stay out of it,” Michael immediately told me and tapped my shoulder. “Lila will handle him. Let them rest for the night. They flew all the way from New York to Minnesota, they’re surely tired.”

“That bastard doesn’t look tired—”

“Jacob,” Michael said with finality in his voice. “Go home now and rest.”

I could still hear Michael’s voice in my head, roaring at me to stay out of it. I could feel the weight of every promise I had ever made to her father. Don’t touch her. Don’t ruin her.

But promises were paper against that kind of fire.

Because then, watching Adrian’s hand on her, watching Lila’s eyes dart down like she was ashamed, like she was scared, something inside me snapped.

And I knew the second I moved, there was no going back. That was the rule I couldn’t break. But I was already breaking it.

Because if Adrian Cross laid one more hand on her, I’d start a war.

And I didn’t give a damn who burned in it.