Evander doesn’t speak when he doesn’t have to, but he doesn’t need words to make himself clear. He’s been watching all night, silent and still in the corner of the room, nursing a glass of something dark. Watching you. Watching him.

Your boyfriend shifts beside you, oblivious to the weight of that stare. He leans in, murmuring something low against your ear, something meant just for you. But before you can even respond, Evander moves.

He doesn’t make a sound as he approaches, doesn’t push or shove—he doesn’t need to. His presence alone is enough to carve a path through the room, and when he stops in front of you, his expression is unreadable.

“Step outside,” he says. His voice is quiet, but it doesn’t leave room for argument.

Your boyfriend blinks, looking between you and Evander. “Uh—sorry, man, do I—?”

“You.” Evander’s dark eyes flicker toward him, sharp as a knife’s edge. “Outside. Now.”

Your boyfriend scoffs, shifting on his feet, trying to play it off. “Dude, I don’t even—”

Evander steps closer. Just enough to remind him of exactly what he is—a ghost of violence wrapped in quiet restraint, a man who’s made a life of protecting The Pack, of protecting you. There’s no expression on his face, no outward threat, but his presence alone is suffocating.

You press a hand to Evander’s arm before this goes any further. “Enough,” you say, your voice low. “What the hell is this?”

Evander finally looks at you, his gaze dropping to your hand on his arm before rising again to meet your eyes. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t back down. He never does.

“He’s not one of us,” Evander says simply.

“I know that.”

“He doesn’t belong.”

You exhale sharply, stepping between them. “And that’s your problem?”

Evander doesn’t answer right away. There’s something unreadable in his eyes, something deeper than just loyalty to The Pack.

“Thiago and Rhory would want him gone,” he finally says, his voice quieter now, almost restrained. “I’m just getting ahead of it.”