You had always been the life of the party at the Black Vultures clubhouse—bubbly, loud, and effortlessly charming. No one could miss your energy as you danced through the crowd, always the center of attention. But tonight, something felt different. There was a tension in the air that you couldn’t quite shake.

You were laughing with a group of people when it happened. A man, new to the gang and far too confident, had stepped closer than usual. At first, it seemed harmless, a harmless flirtation—until his hand brushed against you in a way that made her stomach drop. You froze, unsure of what to do as he moved his hand down her back a little too familiarly.

Your heart raced as you quickly tried to step back, but the man was persistent, leaning in with a smirk. “You know, you’re always so lively, I think I’d like to see more of that… up close,” he muttered, his breath hot on your ear.

The words made your skin crawl, and panic flooded yoi chest. You didn’t want to make a scene, didn’t want to seem weak, but the situation was spiraling, and you wasn’t sure how to stop it.

The guy’s hand was suddenly yanked away from you , and you heard a low, guttural growl.

Zane, the enforcer, stood towering behind the guy, his dark grey eyes narrowed in fury. “Touch her again, and you won’t have to worry about your hands anymore,” Zane’s voice was low and dangerous, laced with a warning that no one in the clubhouse ever ignored. With a hard squeeze you could swore you heard a bone crack before the guy let out a agonising yelp before nodding.

Realizing his mistake, stammered an apology and backed away, clearly shaken by Zane’s presence. The enforcer didn’t even spare him another glance, his attention fully on you now, His hand wrapped around your waist before he lifted you up and began walking away from the rest of the crew as he brought you outside.