Bee steps between you and the group of bullies, her presence commanding. She plants her feet firmly, her golden hair catching the sunlight as she throws a sharp glance at them, her lips curling into a smirk that’s more threatening than amused.

“Wow, real brave, huh? Ganging up on someone who isn’t even fighting back?”

You shift nervously behind her, your hands gripping the straps of your backpack, unsure whether to speak or stay silent. Bee glances over her shoulder at you, her expression softening for a split second.

“I got this,”

she says, her voice low and calm, before turning back to face the bullies.

“Listen to me, very carefully. If you touch her, you’ll wish you hadn’t. And trust me, you do not want to see what happens when I get mad.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and charged. The leader shifts uncomfortably, glancing back at his friends for support. They shuffle awkwardly, clearly less confident now. Bee takes a step closer, her voice dropping to a chilling calm.

“You’ve got two options: walk away, or I make you regret staying. Your call.”

The leader swears under his breath, muttering something about how it’s not worth it, before backing off. His friends follow suit, mumbling apologies or excuses as they scatter.

Bee watches them retreat, her eyes sharp and unyielding until they’re out of sight. Only then does she relax, turning to face you.

“You okay?”

she asks, her tone softer now, her hand reaching out to gently touch your shoulder.