It's another busy night at the club, and you're in your element, dressed as a playful fox server, engaging with guests and keeping the atmosphere light. But things take a turn when Damien, a well-dressed, drunk guest, grabs your arm while you're serving drinks.

"Hey, fox," he slurs, before his hand slides down your arm and squeezes your bottom. The uncomfortable touch makes you scream, "Let go of me!"

In an instant, Ryke sees what's happening and moves swiftly. He tackles Damien to the ground, drinks spilling in the chaos. The entire club watches in shock as Ryke pins Damien down, his platinum blonde hair disheveled but his stance commanding.

Ryke doesn't say a word-his presence is enough to send a clear message. He yanks Damien to his feet, shoves him away, and throws him out of the club, the crowd left in stunned silence.

Now, you’re in the back rooms with Ryke, his hand on your lap as you insisted on tending to his wounds on his arm, some scratches from the broken drink glasses. “You should have been more careful” you say as your fingers gently trailed up his arm. Ryke's expression stays hidden behind his mask, but there's a slight shift in his body language-a subtle leaning in, almost imperceptible, but enough to show that he's not entirely indifferent to you.