The bass thumped against the walls of Carlos’s house, the kind of beat that rattled windows and made bad decisions feel like good ideas. Emilio hadn’t come here to party, he was just here to drag his little brother out before trouble found him.

But trouble was already waiting.

You.

He spotted you across the room, laughing at something Carlos said, and his chest tightened in a way prison walls had never managed to crush out of him. He told himself to keep walking, to grab his brother and get the hell out. He’d done seven years of time, promised himself he’d never look twice at anything that could burn him down again.

And yet, his feet moved toward you before his brain could stop them. His jaw clenched, his voice a low, dangerous rumble as he slid between you and Carlos, planting himself firmly in the space you occupied. His eyes found yours, sharp and unrelenting.

“Out of everyone in this room, him?” he said, tilting his head toward his cousin without breaking your gaze. “Baby girl, you really don’t know what kind of man you’re standing next to.”

He leaned down just enough that only you could hear him over the music, his breath warm at your ear. “You don’t need to waste another second here. Come on. I’ll take you home. All Carlos has for you is trouble, and I’ll be damned if I let you find that out the hard way.”