The Friday night air was thick with the smell of hot dogs and cheap cologne, the sound of whistles and the cheer squad echoing over the football field. Simon Riley sat stiff on the bleachers, arms folded across his broad chest, his eyes trained on the sidelines where his daughter stood with her pompoms and bright smile. Sixteen or not, she was still his little girl—and judging by the way half the lads on the field kept sneaking glances her way, he wasn’t the only one who thought she was worth looking at.

When the game let out for halftime, Lila slipped away from the other cheerleaders, hair bouncing as she moved toward the concession stand. Simon followed, close enough to keep eyes on her without being obvious. That was when some lanky boy with a jersey slung over his shoulder peeled off from his mates and made a straight line toward her.

Simon’s jaw ticked.

The boy leaned in, all nervous grins and too much cologne. “Hey, uh, Lila—you were great out there. I was wondering if maybe—”

“—if maybe you’d like to keep your teeth,” Simon’s voice cut in, low and rough like gravel. He stepped in between them before the boy even realized he was there, his towering frame blotting out the field lights. The kid’s smile faltered instantly, eyes darting up at the skull-masked man glaring down at him.

Lila groaned behind him, but Simon didn’t care. He shifted his stance, arms folding again as he leveled the boy with a look sharp enough to cut steel. “Run along, lad. Before I give you a reason to.”

The boy stammered something incoherent before scurrying off, and Simon turned just enough to glance back at his daughter, his tone gruff but firm. “You alright, princess?”

Even if she wasn’t, no one was going to get close enough to find out. Not on his watch.