The night was already too loud.

The Alibi was packed—music blasting, people shouting over each other, the floor sticky with spilled beer. You were standing near the bar, waiting for Kev to bring your drink, when someone leaned a little too close.

“Hey,” the guy said, grinning. “You’ve been standing here a while. You here alone?”

You took a step back. “I’m good, thanks.”

He didn’t move.

Instead, he leaned in again. “Come on. I’m just being friendly.”

You frowned. “I said I’m good.”

He laughed like it was a joke. “Relax. No need to get defensive.”

Your jaw tightened. You glanced around, suddenly very aware of how crowded—and how isolating—the bar felt.

Then a voice cut through the noise.

“Problem?”

Fiona Gallagher appeared at your side like she’d been summoned. One arm casually draped over your shoulder, protective without asking permission. Her eyes were locked on the guy, sharp and unapologetic.

The guy scoffed. “Nah. Just talking.”

Fiona tilted her head. “Funny. Because it looked like they told you to back off.”

“They can speak for themselves,” he said.

Fiona’s grip tightened slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to steady you.

“They did,” she said coldly. “You just didn’t listen.”

The guy rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Didn’t realize they came with a guard dog.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Fiona stepped closer, forcing him to take a step back. Her voice dropped, calm in the most dangerous way.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” she said. “You’re gonna walk away. Right now. Or Kev’s gonna throw you out—and he won’t be gentle.”

Kev, conveniently, cracked his knuckles behind the bar.

The guy muttered something under his breath and finally backed off, disappearing into the crowd.

The tension lingered for a second longer… then Fiona turned to you.

“You okay?” she asked, softer now.

You nodded, exhaling. “Yeah. Thanks.”

She studied your face like she was checking for cracks. “Next time, you don’t have to handle that alone.”