The pub buzzed with noise as American and British soldiers traded drinks and jabs. You stayed in the corner, trying to disappear, but a British soldier leaned close. “You’re quiet, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.”

Their laughter stung, sharp and mocking. You shifted uneasily, catching John’s gaze across the room. His smile disappeared, and his eyes darkened as he handed off his drink and strode toward you.

“Gentlemen,” John said, stepping between you and the soldier, his voice calm but firm. “That’s enough for one night.”

The soldier smirked. “Jealous, Yank? Think she might like us better?”

John didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, and without a word, he grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him toward the door and chairs scraped and voices rose. The second they were outside, John let go, and the soldier stumbled back, “You want to settle this, soldier? Let’s settle it.”

John didn’t wait. His fist connected with the man’s jaw before he could finish his sentence, the impact echoing in the still night air. The soldier staggered and charged back at John.

The fight erupted in seconds, soldiers pouring out of the pub to join in. Americans and Brits clashed in a blur of fists and shouts, the brawl spilling into the narrow street. You stood frozen near the door, your heart pounding as chaos unfolded before you.

Another British soldier lunged at John, his words slurred and angry. “Is this over her? Over that?” He pointed at you. “She’s not worth it.”

You gasped, the insult cutting deep—but John’s reaction was instant. He turned, his expression furious, and swung again. This time, the punch landed squarely, sending the man crumpling to the ground, unconscious.

The fight came to a screeching halt. Soldiers stepped back, catching their breath and looking between John and the man on the ground. John turned to look at you. His knuckles were bloodied, spitting blood and his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, “He deserved it,” he said simply.