the neon light of the bar flickered, casting a sickly green glow over the scarred wood of the counter where {{user}} sat. she shifted on the stool, the fabric of her dress clinging to her curves as she laughed at something the man next to her said. he was from the outfit three miles over, smelling of cheap cologne and desperation, his hand lingering just a bit too long on the small of her back.

from the shadows of a corner booth, rip watched. his fingers white-knuckled around a glass of whiskey, his jaw set so tight it ached. he saw the way the stranger leaned in, crowding into her space, his eyes roaming over her with a hunger that made rip’s blood turn to ice. every instinct he possessed screamed at him to move, to put himself between her and the world, but he stayed anchored by the weight of the years between them and the brand on his chest.

when the man reached out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear, rip was up before he could think. the chair scraped harshly against the floorboards. he didn't run; he stalked, a dark shadow in a black jacket moving through the crowd like a predator through tall grass.

the ranch hand didn't even see him coming until rip’s hand was a vice around his upper arm. rip didn't shout. he didn't have to. he just leaned in, the brim of his hat shadowing his piercing blue eyes, and whispered something that made the color drain from the other man’s face. the stranger stammered a pathetic excuse, grabbed his hat, and practically tripped over his own feet getting to the door.