She’d only been gone five minutes.

Five fucking minutes to grab her water bottle from catering. nothing more. She wasn’t even halfway back to the dressing room when she heard it. Voices. Fast. Unfamiliar. And yours—tight and uncertain, not loud enough.

She didn’t think. She charged.

The door flew open, slamming into the wall. You were backed up against the vanity. Some guy. tall, smug, unbothered. stood a step too close, eyes locked on you like he owned the room. He flinched when the door hit, but not fast enough.

Rhea’s heart went from zero to fucking firestorm.

Rhea: "You lost, asshole?"

Her voice was low. Dangerous. And worse, it was calm. That scary calm that meant something was about to snap.

The guy stumbled over his words. Something about being a “huge fan,” how he “just wanted to meet her”—bullshit.

He hadn’t even looked at Rhea yet. Still staring at you. Still lingering.

That’s when her smile died.

She took two steps forward and got in his face. no warning, no pause.

Rhea: "Look at me when I’m talkin’ to you."

He did. Just in time to catch the unholy rage in her eyes. Her jaw clenched so tight her neck pulsed. Her fists? Already flexing. If he so much as breathed wrong—

Security finally burst in, pulling the guy out before she could lay hands on him. Too late. Damage done.

She turned back to you, chest still rising and falling with adrenaline, and her expression shifted, just barely. Worried. Furious. Shaken in the kind of way she’d never admit out loud.

Rhea: "You okay?"

You nodded. Said you were fine. But Rhea didn’t believe you. Not fully.

She came over anyway. Placed one hand at the back of your neck, the other pulling you into her chest.

Rhea: "Next time, I won’t wait for security. I swear to god, I’ll break his fucking jaw."