His chin dips sli #2
He sits, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely.
Without the constant humor, he looks different.
Still handsome, still easy in the way he carries himself, but older somehow.
More dangerous. More like the kind of man who earned a cut beside men like Cobra.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he says. That surprises me. Not the words. The simplicity of them.
“Thank you.”
He nods once, then looks toward the door like he’s checking the hall before continuing. “He’s not mad at you.”
I look down immediately. “That’s not what it feels like.”
“I know.”
“He left.”
“Yeah.” Blaze exhales slowly. “Because if he stayed right then, he was either going to scare the shit out of you or tear the clubhouse apart looking for something to kill.”
My throat tightens. “That’s not better.”
“No,” he says. “It’s just true.”
I wrap my arms loosely around myself.
Blaze watches the movement but doesn’t comment on it. “I haven’t known Cobra his whole life,” he says after a moment. “But I’ve known him long enough.”
I look up. “Savage Knights?” I ask.
His mouth twitches faintly. “Yeah. Back when we were all dumber, meaner, and a lot less charming.”
“You were less charming?”
“Hard to believe, I know.”
A tiny laugh slips out. Relief. Just a little.
Then his expression settles again. “When I met him, he was the most dangerous man I’d ever seen,” Blaze says. “Not because he was loud. Not because he was trying to prove shit. Most guys who want you to think they’re scary make a lot of noise.”
I think of Cobra. Silent. Still. Watching.
“Cobra didn’t,” Blaze continues. “He’d stand there saying nothing, and every man in the room knew if things went bad, he’d be the last thing they saw.” My chest tightens. “He still is,” Blaze says. “Most dangerous man I know.”
That should scare me. It doesn’t. Maybe that says something about me. Maybe something that should worry me more.
“But you changed something,” Blaze adds.
My eyes snap to his. “I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I barely know him.”
Blaze huffs softly, but not with amusement.
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t work on normal timelines.
” That sounds painfully true. “He doesn’t let people close,” Blaze says.
“Not like that. He doesn’t let women sleep in his room.
Doesn’t watch them breathe like he’s counting every second just to make sure the world didn’t cheat him.
Doesn’t talk in full sentences at dinner unless he’s either threatening someone or…
” He trails off, then shrugs. “Or you’re there. ”
My throat feels tight again. “I don’t know what to do with that.”
“You don’t have to do anything with it tonight.
” The words echo something Brooke might say.
Maybe that’s why they land. Blaze leans back slightly, some of the familiar light creeping back into his face.
“He’s a good guy.” I lift a brow. He points at me.
“Don’t tell him I used those exact words. He’ll get moody.”
“He’s not already?”
“He’s always moody. Different flavor.” Despite myself, I smile. “He’s a good guy,” Blaze repeats, softer now. “Just…don’t hurt him. He won’t know what the fuck to do with that.”
The words land heavier than I expect. “I don’t want to hurt him,” I say.
Blaze studies me for a second, then his grin slips back into place.
“Good. Because he’s terrifying when he’s moody, and unfortunately for all of us, moody is kind of his baseline.
Aside from the fact that he’d make everyone’s life hell, I’m pretty sure Bella would blame me somehow, and I’m too pretty to die for someone else’s emotional damage”
I laugh. I can’t help it. It comes out shaky, but real, and for the first time since the alley, the room doesn’t feel like it’s shrinking around me. “God,” I say, shaking my head carefully. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“Nope. That’s Bella’s cross to bear now.”
“She likes it.”
“She claims she tolerates it. I choose to hear worship.”
I laugh again, and this time it doesn’t hurt as much. The sound seems to loosen something in my chest. “Thank you,” I say after a second. “For coming to check on me.”
He shrugs like it isn’t a big deal. But it is. I know enough now to understand that. He stands, probably planning to leave before the moment gets too serious, and instinct moves me before logic does.
I stand too, too fast.
The room tilts.
Blaze reaches out, then stops himself halfway, hands lifted like he remembers exactly whose room he’s in. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I steady myself, then step forward. And hug him. It’s instinct. Gratitude. Nothing more.
His body goes rigid for half a second, probably from surprise, then he gives me the lightest pat on the back imaginable, like he’s afraid I might explode or Cobra might appear out of the walls. Which, to be fair, is apparently a reasonable fear.
Because the door opens. And his voice hits the room like a gunshot. “What the fuck?”
Everything freezes.
Blaze’s hand stops midair.
My arms drop instantly, and I turn toward the doorway.
Cobra stands there. All black clothes, blood still faint at his knuckles, jaw carved from stone, eyes locked on Blaze’s hand near my back. Not on me first. On him. The room goes cold.
“Fuck me,” Blaze mutters.
Cobra moves. Fast. Too fast.
Blaze barely has time to turn before Cobra’s fist slams into his face. The sound is awful. Heavy. Wet. Not playful. Not brotherly. Blaze staggers back, catching himself against the chair, one hand flying to his jaw.
“Cobra!” I gasp.
Cobra doesn’t look at me. He steps into Blaze’s space, body radiating something so territorial and furious it makes the air feel too thin. “Keep your fucking hands to yourself.”
Blaze spits a curse, straightening slowly. His lip is split. Blood shines at the corner of his mouth. “Was just a hug, asshole.”
“She is mine.” The words hit the room. Hit me.
Blaze’s eyes flick toward me for half a second, then back to Cobra. Whatever smart comment he might have made dies before it forms.
Good choice.
Still, he can’t help himself completely. “Noted,” he says, voice rough. “No hugging the homicidal man’s woman. Clear now.”
Cobra’s shoulders shift like he might hit him again.
I step forward. Not between them fully. Not stupidly. But enough. “Stop.”
Cobra’s eyes snap to me. For one second, all of that fury turns, and I feel the full weight of it.
I flinch. Not because I think he’ll hurt me.
I don’t. I know that in my bones. I flinch because the situation is too much.
Because there’s blood again. Because I caused this.
Because Blaze came to be kind, and now his lip is bleeding because I hugged him in Cobra’s room after a night where Cobra already looked like something inside him was breaking.
Cobra sees the flinch. Everything in him changes. Not softens. Locks down.
Blaze sees it too. He wipes the blood from his mouth with his thumb and exhales. “I’m going.”
“Good,” Cobra says.
Blaze looks at me once. “Glad you’re okay, Liv.”
Cobra’s jaw ticks at the nickname, but he doesn’t move.
I nod, throat tight. “Thank you.”
Blaze steps around him carefully, then pauses in the doorway. “For the record,” he says, because apparently survival instinct only goes so far, “you punch like an emotionally constipated freight train.”
Cobra turns his head slowly.
Blaze lifts both hands. “Leaving.” He leaves. The door closes behind him.
For one second, neither of us moves.
Then Cobra moves to the door and locks it. The click is soft. Final. He turns back to me.
My pulse jumps.
His eyes are still dark, still burning, but the rage is different now. Lower. More contained. More dangerous somehow because it’s not looking for Blaze anymore. It’s looking at me.
I swallow. “You didn’t have to hit him.”
“Yes.”
“No. You didn’t.”
“He touched you.”
“I hugged him.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “Yeah.”
“He was being nice.”
“I know.” That stops me. Because it isn’t denial. It isn’t jealousy dressed as logic. He knows. And he still did it.
My voice softens without meaning to. “Then why?”