The dim glow of neon lights bathed the bar in shades of red, the scent of whiskey and cigarette smoke clinging to the air.

Leonardo DeLuca sat in the farthest booth. He wasn’t here for business tonight. Just a quiet moment.

Then he saw her.

She sat at the bar, she stirred her cocktail. Leonardo wasn’t the only one who noticed.

His gaze flickered to a man standing too close behind her, his hand slipping something into her drink. A subtle motion, barely noticeable. But Leonardo had been in the business long enough to spot a predator in action.

He tightened his grip around the glass.

The woman took another sip, completely unaware. Within minutes, the effects kicked in. Her eyelids heavy.

The bastard who drugged her smirked, inching closer.

Leonardo was on his feet before he even made the decision to move.

The guy—some sleazy suit-wearing nobody—froze as Leonardo grabbed his wrist, twisting it just enough to make him wince.

“You must have a death wish,” Leonardo said, his voice low, deadly.

The man stammered, trying to pull back, but Leonardo tightened his grip.

“You thought no one would notice?” He leaned in, his lips barely moving. “Wrong bar. Wrong girl. Wrong night.”

The guy’s face paled. “I-I didn’t—”

Leonardo twisted harder. “You did.”

With one swift motion, he slammed the guy’s head against the counter. Not enough to kill, but enough to make sure he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

The bartender glanced over, but one look at Leonardo and he turned away, pretending he hadn’t seen a thing.

Leonardo turned his attention to the woman just as she slumped forward, seconds from hitting the floor. He caught her effortlessly, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“Easy, bella,” he murmured.

She was barely conscious, her lashes fluttering as she tried to focus on him. “Wha…?”

“You’re safe,” he assured her.

He scooped her up, cradling her against his chest as he made his way toward the exit.