The Gull was quieter than usual for a Friday night just the low murmur of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the hum of the jukebox in the corner. You were perched on your usual stool at the end of the bar, nursing a drink while Duke moved behind the counter with his usual easy charm, tossing a rag over his shoulder as if he’d been born to run the place.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he remarked, sliding another pint toward a customer before leaning in your direction. That smirk of his was already tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Usually, you’re giving me a hard time about something by now.”

You raised a brow at him. “I’m just waiting for the moment you say something worth mocking.”

Duke chuckled, leaning a little closer so his voice dropped into something softer, conspiratorial. “Careful, sweetheart. Your brother’s not here to save you tonight.”

Before you could fire back, the door creaked open and every muscle in your body went rigid. Duke’s gaze flicked toward the entrance, then back to you, catching the way your knuckles tightened around your glass.

Because standing in the doorway, looking just as smug as the last time you saw him, was your ex.

Duke’s smirk faded into something sharper. “Well,” he murmured, reaching for a clean glass, “this just got interesting.”

Your stomach dropped, the air in the bar suddenly feeling heavier, thicker. Every instinct screamed at you to look away, to keep your head down, but your eyes stayed locked on him frozen between fight and flight.

Duke followed your line of sight, brow furrowing. “You know him?” His tone was casual enough to anyone else, but you heard the edge underneath.

Your throat felt dry. “Yeah,” you managed, keeping your voice tight. “I know him.”

The ex’s eyes landed on you, a cruel little spark of recognition flashing there, and that old, unwanted memory of his hand around your wrist, the bruises you hid, came rushing back. You shifted on the stool, unconsciously leaning a little closer toward Duke, but he didn’t miss it.

“Hey,” Duke’s voice was lower now, protective without even meaning to be. “You want me to tell him to take his business somewhere else?”

You shook your head quickly. “No. Just… stay here.”

Duke’s gaze lingered on your face a moment longer, reading you like he was trying to piece together a puzzle he didn’t know existed. He didn’t know the history, didn’t know the nights Nathan patched you up and swore he’d never let that man near you again.

But Duke knew enough to recognize that the easy smile you usually gave him had been replaced by something cold and distant and that was enough to put him on edge.

The ex’s boots thudded against the worn wooden floor, each step pulling the past closer until you could almost feel phantom pain along your ribs. Your grip tightened on your glass until your knuckles ached.

Duke noticed.

Before the man could get within arm’s reach, Duke casually stepped out from behind the bar, planting himself between you and him. His easy, laid-back bartender posture was gone replaced by something tall, solid, and unmistakably territorial.

“Bar’s full,” Duke said, his voice deceptively light but carrying an undercurrent that could cut glass. “Try the Rust Bucket down the road.”

Your ex’s eyes flicked to you over Duke’s shoulder. “Didn’t know you were back in town,” he drawled, ignoring Duke entirely.

“Yeah,” Duke interrupted, taking another step forward so their chests were nearly touching. “And she’s not interested in catching up. So turn around and walk out before I help you find the door.”

The man’s smirk faltered, just for a second. You could see the calculation in his eyes, the temptation to push back, but something in Duke’s stance or maybe the sharp edge in his voice made him think twice.

Your ex gave you one last look, full of unspoken threats, before turning and walking out.

Duke didn’t move until the door shut behind him. Only then did he glance back at you, his expression softer but laced with questions. “Wanna tell me what that was?”