Chapter 6 Rylie
Rylie
Trigger’s smile scared me more than Thomas’s charm ever had.
Because Thomas’s charm was fake. A mask. I knew that all along.
Trigger didn’t wear a mask.
Trigger was the storm.
Thomas’s footsteps stopped as he walked inside the tavern. Why was the front door unlocked?
“I’m sorry,” Thomas said, voice polite, like he’d bumped into a stranger at a fundraiser. “Who are you again?”
Trigger leaned one shoulder against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. Like his heart wasn’t a loaded gun.
“Eli Jennings,” he said. “But everyone calls me Trigger.”
“Cute,” Thomas said. “Now step aside. I’m here for my fiancée.”
My stomach lurched.
I moved without thinking, standing behind Trigger but close enough that I could feel the heat of his body.
His presence anchored me.
Trigger didn’t move. “She’s not going anywhere.”
Thomas chuckled softly. “Rylie, tell him.”
My throat closed.
Trigger didn’t look at me. He didn’t need to.
He could feel the way my hands shook.
Thomas’s voice sharpened, just a hair. “Rylie.”
I swallowed hard. “No.”
The word came out small.
But it was mine.
For a second, Thomas’s mask slipped.
His eyes went flat.
Then he smiled again, slow and cruel. “You’re upset. That’s okay. You’re under pressure. We all get emotional.”
Trigger’s jaw flexed.
Thomas continued, louder now, like he was making a case to a jury.
“She’s been overwhelmed lately. She’s been having panic attacks. She forgets appointments. She spirals.” He tilted his head. “She needs stability.”
Rage flared inside me.
I took a step forward, but Trigger’s arm slid back—subtle—blocking me.
Protecting me.
Thomas’s eyes flicked to Trigger’s arm like it offended him.
“Rylie,” Thomas said softly. “Do you want your father to lose his job?”
My breath caught.
Trigger went still in a way I recognized.
That frozen stillness before violence.
I grabbed his shirt, whispering, “Don’t.”
Trigger finally looked at me—just a glance, fast and intense.
It wasn’t a promise to be gentle.
It was a promise to be smart.
Then he looked back at Thomas.
“You should leave,” Trigger said calmly. “Before you make a mistake.”
Thomas laughed. “A mistake? Do you have any idea who I am?”
Trigger’s voice didn’t change. “No.”
Thomas’s smile tightened.
“Rylie is mine,” he said. “And you’re standing in my way.”
Trigger’s eyes went dead-cold.
“Rylie isn’t anyone’s property,” he said. “And you just threatened the Sheriff.”
Thomas blinked. “I didn’t threaten anyone.”
Trigger nodded slowly, like he was agreeing.
Then he said, “Saint.”
Saint stepped into view behind Trigger, holding up his phone.
On the screen, the recording timer was still running.
Thomas’s face shifted.
One second of panic.
One second was all it took.
Trigger’s voice dropped. “You want to say that again? Louder?”
Thomas’s nostrils flared. He recovered quickly, smoothing his expression.
He smiled at me like we were alone.
“Rylie,” he said, soft as silk. “Come downstairs. Let’s talk privately.”
I forced my voice to work. “No.”
Thomas’s eyes hardened.
“Then I’ll come up,” he said simply.
Havoc moved behind Thomas, appearing on the stairs like a wall of muscle. Thomas’s bodyguard turned—but Havoc’s gaze locked on him, and the man stopped.
Thomas’s smile didn’t reach his eyes now.
He looked at Trigger again, measuring.
Then he nodded once, slow.
“Fine,” he said. “You can have your moment.”
He lowered his voice. “But you’ll come back to me.”
My skin crawled.
Thomas turned and walked down the stairs like he owned the building.
His bodyguard followed.
The moment they were gone, my knees buckled.
Trigger turned fast, catching me.
His hands were gentle on my arms.
But his face…
His face was murder.
“You’re staying here,” he said, voice rough. “No windows. No lights. No leaving the tavern without one of us.”
I nodded, throat too tight to speak.
Trigger’s gaze swept my face like he was memorizing me.
Then he leaned closer, his voice dropping to something only I could hear.
“He put his hands on your throat.”
It wasn’t a question.
I started to shake again.
Trigger’s jaw tightened.
And then he said the words that made my eyes burn.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”