Chapter 1
-Hailey-
Heat rose in my chest, and my fingers tightened around the glass of whiskey in front of me. The bar was dim and crowded, and the hum of conversations blended into a dull roar. But it was Matt’s voice that cut through everything.
“You’re always so damn defensive, Hailey,” he said with a smile.
To anyone else it might’ve sounded playful, but I knew the bite underneath. His dark eyes drilled into me, and I could see his jaw clenching and unclenching. The telltale sign that he was just getting started.
“I’m defensive because you’re always picking a fight,” I shot back. My voice was steadier than I felt. “Why can’t you just let it go for once?”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Baby, I’m just trying to talk to you. Why do you always make me out to be the bad guy?”
I focused on my glass of whiskey, taking another swig.
“Yeah… I’ll let it go,” he continued after a beat.
His smile vanished, and his hand came down hard on the bar. I jumped as the sound rattled through the room. A bunch of heads turned, but I was used to it. My pride was already in shreds, and the whiskey burning in my chest wasn’t doing much to calm my nerves.
“Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he murmured a second later, running his fingers down my arm. Soft now, almost tender. “You know I don’t like it when we fight.”
The shift made my skin crawl. He always did this. Twisted the knife, then acted like he was the one holding me together.
“You act like you’re so perfect. Like I’m the problem.” He kept going, his voice rising. “Maybe if you weren’t so fuckin cold all the time, we wouldn’t have to fight.”
“Cold…” I laughed, but it came out dry. “You’re the one who’s always twisting everything, Matt. You’re the one who—”
I stopped mid-sentence, my gaze moving past him to the far end of the bar. Two bikers sat there, the patches on their vests catching the glow of the neon signs above them.
They were watching us. Their expressions were casual, but their attention was undeniable. One of them leaned back with his arms crossed, while the other rested an elbow on the bar, his eyes locked on mine.
I felt a shiver crawl up my spine, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the intensity of their stares or the way Matt’s hand suddenly gripped my arm, pulling my attention back to him.
“Don’t look away when I’m talking to you,” he hissed, his fingers digging into my skin.
I jerked my arm free, my pulse racing. “Stop it, Matt,” I said, my voice colder now. “You’re hurting me.”
His eyes narrowed, and for a second, I thought he might lash out again. But then he leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you’re always the victim, aren’t you, Hailey?” he muttered, finishing off his whiskey.
I didn’t answer. My gaze drifted back to the two at the end of the bar, and this time, one of them — the one with the piercing eyes — nodded at me, ever so slightly. I didn’t know who they were or why they were watching us, but something about their attention made the air feel heavier.
Something about the way they held themselves felt… dangerous.
Matt followed my gaze, scoffing when he noticed them. “Who the hell are they?” He gave me another tight smile. “See? You love this, don’t you? Getting other guys to look at you.”
“I don’t know who they are, Matt. But I’m done,” I said quietly, sliding off my stool. My legs felt shaky, but I forced myself to stand up straight. “I’m not doing this with you. Not here.”
His jaw dropped, and for a second, he looked stunned. Like he hadn’t expected me to push back. Then his face darkened, and he stepped closer, crowding me against the bar.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he hissed. “I’m not done.”
I froze, my blood running cold, and out of the corner of my eye I saw one of the bikers shift in his seat. He stubbed out his cigarette and stood up, his movements slow and measured.
Matt didn’t notice. His hand was gripping my arm again, and I knew I’d have a fresh bruise there tomorrow. But before I could say anything, before I could even think, the biker was there. He stepped up beside us with a calm, intimidating presence that made Matt’s hand drop instantly.
“Problem here?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth. His eyes were locked on Matt.
Matt hesitated.
The biker moved like a shadow, his body slipping into the space between Matt and me. Matt’s eyes narrowed, his face twisting into a snarl.
“How about you mind your own fuckin business,” he spat, his voice rising. He took a step back and swung without warning, his fist aimed straight for the biker’s jaw.
The guy ducked it, like he’d been expecting it. The punch whistled past his head, and in one fluid motion he grabbed Matt’s arm, twisting it behind his back. Matt let out a grunt of pain, his face contorted with fury.
“You don’t wanna do this, bud,” the biker said calmly, but there was an edge to his voice that sent goosebumps up my arms. The other biker was on his feet now, striding over with a lazy smirk.
“We got a problem here, Logan?” the second one drawled, cracking his knuckles.
Logan… He did look like a Logan.
Matt struggled against Logan’s grip, but it was useless. His strength was effortless, and he looked like he was carved out of stone. Like some kind of heavily tattooed Greek god.
“Get your hands off me, asshole!” Matt hissed, his face turning red.
Logan glanced at me for a split second, his green eyes unreadable. Then he nodded to his friend. “Let’s take this little party outside, shall we?”
The next thing I knew, they were dragging Matt toward the door, and his curses were echoing through the bar.
I stood frozen, my heart thudding against my ribs. Part of me wanted to stop them, to scream at them to let him go. But a deeper, darker part… felt something like relief.
The door swung shut behind them, muffling the sounds of the fight that broke out almost immediately. I could hear the dull thuds of fists connecting with flesh.
My legs felt like they might give out, but I forced myself to follow, pushing through the crowd that was gathering to watch through the windows.
Outside, the cool night air sobered me up immediately. Matt was on the ground now, covered in blood, with the bikers standing over him like predators circling their prey. Logan’s fist was bloody, his posture relaxed, but his eyes were blazing.
His friend was lighting a cigarette. He almost looked bored.
“Tough guy, huh?” Logan said, his voice calm but carrying across the parking lot. “You think it’s okay to put your hands on a woman?”
Matt coughed, spitting blood onto the pavement. “She’s MY fiancée,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “You don’t know shit about us.”
Logan’s jaw flexed, and he crouched down, grabbing Matt by the hair. “She’s not your property. Unless she wants to be…” He looked up at me then, like he was waiting for me to respond.
I felt a lump rise in my throat. I didn’t know what to say… what to do. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go. But Matt had pushed too far. Again. And these guys weren’t like anyone I’d ever met.
“Um,” I murmured, pausing for a second to steady my voice. I should’ve been worried about Matt bleeding at my feet. Instead, all I could think about were those green eyes, piercing straight through me.
“Let’s… uh… go home and get you cleaned up, Matt…” I avoided the bikers’ stares, embarrassed to look at either of them. “Give me the keys.”
“Really,” Logan said, his tone incredulous. He stood, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his vest. “Alright… Your choice.”
He lit one, exchanging a look with his friend. Then they turned and headed back into the bar, leaving me to help Matt stumble to his car.
