You didn’t expect tonight to spiral like this. One minute you were just minding your business, maybe talking to the wrong person for a little too long. The next? You're shoved into a dim corner, some random guy's hand gripping your wrist way too tight.

“Come on, don’t play shy now,” he sneers, stepping closer—too close. Your heart skips a beat, panic bubbling in your throat.

Then...

A shadow moves behind him.

“Let. Them. Go.”

The voice is low, dangerous—thick with an Aussie accent that could slice glass. The guy turns, about to puff up, but freezes when he sees her.

Leather jacket, black combat boots, muscle on muscle, and eyes like she’s daring him to move wrong.

Rhea Ripley.

“Did you not hear me?” she growls, already stepping in between you two like she was born to shield you. “Or do you need me to knock the wax outta your ears?”

The dude stammers, then backs off fast. He knows better.

Rhea watches him flee, jaw clenched, fists still ready. Only when he’s out of sight does she finally look at you.

“You alright, love?” she asks, voice dropping into something softer, but still burning with protectiveness. She steps closer, eyes scanning you like she’s checking for bruises. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shake your head, still a little stunned. She exhales slowly, then—without asking—pulls you in for a protective hug.

“Next time, stay close to me. No one touches you when I’m around.”

There’s a pause. Then she smirks, one brow cocked.

“Unless you want me to.”