Chapter 26
“No.”
Olivia stops halfway across my room with one boot in her hand and the other already on her foot. She looks at me from beneath her curtain of hair, and I know before she opens her mouth that she’s not backing down.
The room is quiet around us, the kind of quiet that comes before a fight neither person wants but both can feel building.
The clubhouse is louder beyond the door, men moving, women talking, kids finally starting to wind down after another day of too many people packed under one roof.
With the threat hanging over us, most of them have stayed here instead of going back to their houses. Safer. Tighter. Easier to guard.
Olivia doesn’t see it that way. She sees walls. My room. My rules. The life she had before all this getting farther away every time I tell her no. I get that.
Doesn’t change my answer.
She straightens slowly, boot still hanging from her fingers. “I’m going.”
“No.”
Her jaw tightens. “You already said that.”
“And?”
“And it doesn’t magically become reasonable the second time.”
“It was reasonable the first.”
She exhales, sharp and frustrated, dropping the boot onto the edge of the bed. “I have plans with Tessa and my sister. Plans I made before all of this happened.”
“All of this did happen.”
“I know that.”
“Then act like it.”
Her eyes flash. “Don’t do that.”
I lean back against the dresser, arms loose at my sides, watching her.
Not crowding. Not moving into her space.
I learned fast that if I step too close when she’s already bristling, she thinks I’m trying to force the outcome.
I don’t need to force shit. The outcome is already set.
“You were targeted,” I say. “They had your schedule. They had where you work. They had pictures, family names, routines. You think because you want drinks and music, they’ll stop? ”
Her expression changes. Just a flicker. The words land because they’re true. She looks away, pressing her lips together like she’s holding back a reaction she doesn’t want me to see. “No.”
“Then no.”
Her gaze snaps back to mine. “That’s not how this works.”
“It is tonight.”
“I’m not canceling on my sister and friends because something might happen.”
“Fuck, it’s still happening.”
“And I’m still standing.”
My jaw tightens.
Yeah. She is.
That’s the part making this harder. Not easier.
She isn’t reckless. Not stupid. She’s scared, but she’s trying to decide what that fear gets to take from her.
I can see the difference. I don’t like it, but I see it.
She pulls in a breath, and her voice lowers.
“I can’t just stop living because someone put my name in a folder. ”
“You can live tomorrow.”
“I’m supposed to work, go out with my sister, and pretend I didn’t disappear from my own life. If I cancel everything, they’ll know something’s wrong. If I stay hidden, whoever did this wins anyway.”
“They win if they get their hands on you.”
“They won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
She steps closer. Not much. Enough. “No, but I know hiding in your room forever isn’t a plan.”
I stare at her. She’s wearing jeans and a black top that sits too tight against her body.
Her hair is down. Her cheeks are flushed from arguing with me, eyes bright with nerves and stubbornness and something alive that I haven’t seen in her since before the attack stole it from her.
She wants this. Not the club. Not the risk.
Normal.
She wants a piece of herself back.
I understand that.
I still fucking hate it.
My mind runs the angles. Club environment.
Public place. Too many exits. Too many bodies.
Unknown threat chain. One failed grab. One lost van.
Dom still digging through the burners, traffic cams, names, the whole damn trail.
Logan already on edge. Punishment for walking past him still sitting between us, waiting.
Risk is high. Control is low. That should end it.
But Olivia is looking at me like she’s waiting to see if I’m protection or a cage.
I don’t want to be the second. Not if I don’t have to be. I push off the dresser. “Fine.”
Her eyes narrow, immediately suspicious. Smart girl. “Fine?”
“You don’t go alone.”
“I wasn’t planning to. I just said Tessa and my sister—”
“They don’t count.” Her mouth opens. I keep going. “I’m there. Prospects are there. You stay within arm’s reach unless I say different. No wandering. No bathroom alone. If I tell you to move, you move.”
Her face tightens again. “That sounds like permission with a leash.”
“It’s not a leash. It’s adjustment.”
“That’s not better.”
“It’s honest.”
She glares at me, and for one second, I see the moment she weighs telling me to go fuck myself. Part of me wants her to. Not because I want a fight. Because I like seeing her spine. She reaches for her other boot, sits on the bed, and pulls it on with more force than necessary. “I’m not helpless.”
“I know.” That stops her for half a breath.
I don’t soften it. Don’t turn it into something else.
“You promise me,” I say. Her eyes lift to mine.
“No wandering,” I continue. “No disappearing into a crowd because you’re pissed.
No stepping outside without me. No letting someone pull you away because it feels normal.
You feel something off, you tell me. You want distance from me, you say it where I can hear you. But you do not vanish.”
She looks down at her hands. Hesitates. This part matters. Not because I need obedience. Because I need choice. If she agrees and means it, I can work with that. If she says yes just to shut me up, it means nothing. Finally, she nods. “I promise.”
I hold her gaze. “Say it.”
Her throat moves. “I promise I won’t wander off. I’ll stay close. If something feels off, I’ll tell you.”
Good. Still not enough. But good.
I grab my phone and send a text to Eli, Tate, and Connor. Three prospects. Young enough to follow orders, useful enough to hold lines, not stupid enough to ignore me if I tell them where to stand. Then I look back at her. “You stay close to me.”
Her lips part slightly, and the argument doesn’t come this time. “Okay,” she says. Not submission. Trust. That’s worse.
Because now I have to keep earning it.
This club is everything I hate in one place.
Too loud. Too packed. Too many bodies moving in ways that make clean lines impossible.
Bass shakes the floor, thick enough to feel in my ribs.
Lights cut over the crowd in flashes of red, blue, and white, turning faces into fragments.
The air smells like liquor, perfume, sweat, and men with bad intentions pretending they’re just here to have a good time.
Variables everywhere. Blind spots near the bar. Hallway to the bathrooms too narrow. Side exit behind the DJ booth. Front door covered by one bouncer who spends more time checking girls out than checking who comes in behind them.
I clock it all before we’re ten feet inside.
Eli moves left. Tate hangs back near the front. Connor takes the far side with a decent sight line to the women’s bathrooms and side exit. Not perfect. Better than nothing.
Olivia walks beside me. Close. Like she promised.
Her sister spots her first, waving from near a high-top table with Tessa and another girl I don’t know.
Her sister’s face lights up with relief before she hides it under excitement, and that tells me she knew enough to worry even if Olivia didn’t tell her everything.
Tessa sees me right after. Her eyebrows shoot up. “Well, damn. You brought the bodyguard.”
Olivia glances at me, then at Tessa. “He brought himself.”
“Even better.”
I don’t answer.
Tessa’s eyes skim me once, then stop when she meets my face. Whatever joke she was about to make dies fast enough to tell me she has survival instincts buried under all that mouth.
Olivia’s sister steps forward. “I’m Mia.” She offers a hand.
I look at it. Then at Olivia. She bites her lip like she’s trying not to smile. “He’s not big on handshakes.”
Mia slowly lowers her hand. “Good to know.”
“Cobra,” Olivia says, like that explains me. It does enough.
Tessa leans toward Mia and stage-whispers, “His name is Cobra. I have several follow-up questions.”
“No,” I say.
Tessa blinks.
Olivia laughs. The sound hits the same way it always does. Harder than it should. I look away before she sees it.
“Drinks?” Mia asks.
Olivia glances at me.
I shake my head once.
Her brows lift. “Seriously?”
“You can have one.”
“One?”
“You’re on medication.”
“I am not on medication.”
I lean in close so they can’t hear. “You were drugged two days ago.”
Olivia’s face tightens, but it’s not anger at me this time. It’s the reality of having those words said out loud.
Tessa’s expression softens. “Liv…”
“I’m okay,” Olivia says quickly. Too quickly. “I’m fine.” She isn’t. But she wants to be. That counts for something.
“One drink,” I repeat, quieter now.
She holds my gaze, then nods. “Fine.”
I don’t like the word. I accept it.
They move toward the bar, and I move with them.
Olivia doesn’t complain when I stay at her back.
Good. The crowd presses in from every side, and each time someone gets too close, I shift just enough to make space without making a scene.
Most people move when something darker than them enters their path.
The bartender makes their drinks. Tessa talks too fast. Mia asks Olivia questions she dodges with a skill that tells me she’s been protecting her family from panic all day.
“I swear, I just got sick,” Olivia says.
“Then why is he staring at everyone like they owe him money?” Tessa asks, jerking her chin toward me.
Olivia glances over her shoulder. Our eyes meet. She smiles. Small. Private. “He always looks like that.”
Tessa looks me over again. “That must be exhausting.”
“It’s not for me,” I say.
She laughs, startled. “He speaks.”
“Rarely,” Olivia says.
“Treasure it,” I tell her.
Mia snorts into her drink.
Olivia’s smile widens, and something in my chest shifts.
Fuck. This is why I said yes.