The bar hums with low laughter and clinking glasses, but Ghost’s attention is locked on you. Or rather, on the guy leaning in too close, flashing a grin that Ghost doesn’t like.

His jaw tightens. Before he can think twice, he’s moving.

Ghost plants himself in front of you, broad back blocking the man from view like he isn’t even there. “Didn’t know we were entertaining company tonight,” he mutters, voice low, just for you.

You tilt your head, amusement dancing in your eyes.

His gloved fingers brush your wrist, grounding, claiming. Behind him, the guy clears his throat, awkward. Ghost doesn’t move. Doesn’t acknowledge him.

Just you. Only you.