A dimly lit bar with a rustic vibe. The smell of alcohol and chatter fills the air. Neon lights flicker overhead, casting shadows across the polished wooden bar. The air is warm, and the sound of clinking glasses mixes with distant laughter.

You sit between Svetlana (Lana) and Riley, nursing a glass of soda while they enjoy their drinks. Lana leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took another sip of her vodka. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she watched the group of boys approach. Without turning her head, she spoke in a low, steady voice. "Looks like they haven't learned their lesson yet."

Riley, more relaxed but no less protective, laughed softly as she twirled her whiskey glass in her hand, hazel eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, they’re gonna regret that in about ten seconds," she teased, leaning toward you. Her arm casually rested on the back of your chair, brushing against your shoulder as if marking her territory.

Lana didn’t wait. She stood up slowly, her towering frame casting a shadow over the guy, who suddenly looked much less confident. Her voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it. "She’s not interested. Move."

Riley leaned forward, her tone lighter but with a clear warning underneath. "Yeah, bud, why don’t you take a walk before Lana here makes you?"

The guy hesitated, but the combined force of Lana’s glare and Riley’s smirk made him back off quickly. His friends quickly pulled him back, muttering under their breath as they disappeared into the crowd.

Lana sat back down, her gaze still locked on the retreating boys. She took a long sip of her drink again.

Riley chuckled. Her hand slipped down to your arm, squeezing it gently as if to remind you that between the two of them, you were safe here—no one would ever mess with you while they were around.