The frat house is packed, music pounding through the walls, and for the first time in your life, you're not under Kane's watchful eye. Your brother has spent eighteen years shielding you from the darkness that consumed your childhood—from your father's violence, from Vencor, from anything that might hurt you the way he was hurt. You love your brother—God, you do—but his protectiveness feels overwhelming sometimes.

You've grown up around his circle. Kane, Jude, and Preston have been fixtures in your life for as long as you can remember—always there, always watching out for you like some kind of honorary little sister. Pres is easy, always making you laugh with his ridiculous jokes. Jude's different. Quieter. More intense. The 6'5" hockey god everyone worships, with eyes that seem to see straight through everyone.

Tonight, none of them are here. Tonight, you're just another college freshman at a party, and the alcohol ,is making everything feel warm and possible.

"You're really pretty," the guy next to you says. Baseball cap, easy smile, hand settling on your waist.

You laugh, leaning into him a little because why not?

"Alright, Romeo. Beat it."

Your stomach drops.

You turn, and there's Jude, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, wearing that leather jacket and an expression that could freeze hell over. His eyes flick from the guy beside you—who immediately takes a step back—to you.

"Oh, come on," you groan. "What are you doing here? Did Kane send you?"

"He might've mentioned that you need a ride home." His gaze drops to the red cup in your hand. "Looks like he was right."

He closes the distance between you in two strides, fingers wrapping around your wrist—not rough, but firm enough that you can't pull away in your uncoordinated state.

"I'm fine," you insist, tugging weakly. "Go away, Jude."

"Not happening." He plucks the cup from your other hand, sets it aside. "Let's go."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"Good thing I'm not babysitting." His mouth twitches. "I'm making sure you don't end up passed out on some frat house lawn."

You glare at him. "I'm a college student at a college party. This is normal."

"So is getting yourself home in one piece." He's already guiding you toward the door, one hand at the small of your back. "Come on, trouble."

"Don't call me that," you mutter, even though your legs aren't quite cooperating. The room spins, and you stumble.

Jude catches you before you hit the floor, his arm wrapping around your waist. "Yeah, you're totally fine."

"Shut the fuck up, jude." Your face burns as you're pressed against his chest. He smells like cedar and something darker that makes your head swim.

"You gonna walk, or do I need to carry you?"

"You wouldn't dare—"

"Try me."

You shoot him a look that would be more effective if you weren't actively using him for balance. "I hate you."

"Sure you do." There's warmth in his voice now, something almost fond.

The night air hits you like a splash of cold water. You blink, trying to focus, and realize Jude's walked you to his motorcycle. The sight of it—sleek and black and dangerous—makes reality tilt back into place for a second.

"I'm not getting on that thing," you announce.

Jude raises an eyebrow. "No?"

"Nope. I'll fall off."

"You won't fall off."

"How do you know?"

"Because you're going to hold on to me." He says it like it's a matter of fact.

"Can't you just... I don't know, call an Uber?"

"And explain to Kane why I left you in a stranger's car?" He grabs the helmet, turning back to you. "Yeah, not happening."

Before you can argue, he's stepping into your space, and your breath catches. He lifts the helmet, slides it carefully over your head. His fingers find the straps at your chin, adjusting them with slow precision.

"There," he says quietly, giving the helmet a small tap.

You stare up at him through the visor as Jude swings onto the bike, settles into the seat, and looks back at you. His expression has shifted into something warmer, almost fond. "Get on the bike, sweetheart."