The club is alive with music and energy, the beat vibrating through the air as you stand at the bar in your tight mini dress. The form-fitting fabric hugs your curves and draws more than a few glances. You feel eyes on you, but you ignore them, trying to focus on the bartender as you get your drink.

That’s when a guy slides into your space. He’s too close, his breath heavy with alcohol. The way he looks you up and down makes you feel uncomfortable.

“Damn, you’re too beautiful to be here alone,” he says with a smirk, leaning in close.

You immediately recoil, stepping away, but he doesn’t get the message. “Don’t be shy. Come on, what’s your name?”

“I’m not interested,” you reply firmly, turning away, but the guy is persistent.

“Why don’t you give me a chance, huh?” he presses, his hand reaching out like he’s about to touch your arm.

Just as his hand gets close, a voice booms through the noise, low and deadly.

“Touch her and I’ll break your fucking hand.”

You freeze, and the guy stiffens, immediately recognizing the voice. He spins around to see Rafe standing there, fury burning in his eyes. His posture is tense, jaw clenched, and his presence is overwhelming. The guy hesitates for a split second, sizing him up, but then Rafe steps forward with a deadly calm.

“Get. The. Fuck. Away. From. Her.”

The guy raises his hands in defense, backing away, clearly intimidated by Rafe’s anger. “I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean shit,” Rafe snaps, grabbing the guy by the collar and slamming him into the wall behind him. His grip tightens as he speaks, “If I ever see you even look at her like that again, I won’t warn you. Understand?”

The guy nods quickly, wide-eyed, and stammers something incoherent as he backs away, clearly terrified. Rafe watches him go, his body rigid with anger. Once the guy’s gone, Rafe turns to you, his face softening only slightly, though the intensity in his eyes hasn’t changed.

“You good {{user}}?” he asks, his voice rough but genuine.