lando went to nightclubs regularly. even long before he was famous, the nightlife had always been part of his rhythm.

he liked to dj in clubs whenever he had time, so going out was nothing unusual for him.

but tonight was different. the destination was a well-known and popular club in monaco.

max was with him, along with pietra, ria, martin, and a few other friends, all staying at his apartment in monaco.

and also you, holly, max’s little sister.

he got along well with you; you were rather discreet, yet you had a quirky side that always made him laugh. you were the type to scream with joy and jump when excitement got the better of her.

with people you trusted, you were comfortable.

and since he had grown up with both you and max, you are part of his world, someone he naturally looked after.

you were only 19, but you had insisted on coming, and max had eventually given in.

he didn’t mind—he knew you were safe with them.

the evening started well; they drank a little, danced, and most importantly, they djed. that part was always the highlight for him.

you only had one drink, spending most of your time dancing with pietra and ria near the mixing desk where martin and he were playing.

at one point, you mentioned you were heading to the bathroom and would be back soon.

he hadn’t thought much of it at the time, too caught up in the music and the crowd. but when ten minutes passed and you still hadn’t returned, panic set in.

a flood of scenarios rushed through his mind.

he knew men. and he knew drunk, malicious men even better.

where was little max?

he pushed through the crowd, eyes scanning for her small figure.

when he reached the restrooms, his heart clenched.

a guy had you by the waist. your eyes said it all—you didn’t want this.

you shook your head, hands pressed against the man’s chest, trying to push him back, trying to keep some distance.

his blood boiled before he had time to think.

you’re not touching holly. not tonight. not ever.

he stormed forward, shoving the man away and pulling you tightly against him.

“dude, get lost! she said no!” lando barked, arms tightening protectively around you.

the drunk swayed, unsteady from both alcohol and the shove.

“dude, calm down… i… i just wanted to talk to her,” the man slurred, his bleary eyes giving away his state.

“dude, i swear, get out of here if you don’t want me to hit you.” his voice was low, controlled, but the fury behind it was barely contained. he wanted nothing more than to slam the man into the wall.

“lan…” your soft whisper broke through his anger. he glanced down, meeting your eyes as you spoke quietly. “… don’t do that… y… you have to… stay cool… for your image.”

his chest tightened. you were right, but it tore at him.

you were worried about him, about his reputation—even now—when you were the one who needed protecting.

you were killing him.

“hey… who cares about my image…” lando murmured, running a hand gently through your hair. “are you okay? did he do something? did he touch you?” his voice softened, filled with worry as he searched her face for answers.