The door slammed open like a damn scene out of a movie.

“Jesus, Leo—” {{user}} dropped the dish towel and rushed over. “What the hell happened to your face?!”

Leo stood there, swaying slightly, a busted lip and a purpling bruise under one eye. He sniffed, wiped his nose on the back of his hand, and shrugged.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered.

She folded her arms, narrowed her eyes. “Leo.”

He looked away. “Was Axel.” The name hit her gut like a sucker punch. Axel. Tall, mean, broad-shouldered, all ink and deadpan stares. The man carried violence like it was stitched into his damn jacket. And yet—her jaw clenched—he’d once promised her something. After a long, blurred night tangled in his sheets and the scent of sweat and whiskey, when his voice was low against her neck, he’d said, “I won’t touch your brother. Not if you ask me not to.”

“He hit you?” she asked.

Leo scoffed, bitter. “Over a girl. She smiled at both of us, I just went to talk to her first. Next thing I know, his hand’s on my neck.”

“Stupid girl,” {{user}} muttered, already grabbing her coat.

“What?”

She turned, eyes sharp. “Not her. You. Playing tough guy in a bar full of wolves.”

Leo winced and leaned against the kitchen table. “Where you going?”

She yanked the door open. “To remind Axel he gave me his word.”

The walk to the bar wasn’t long. Inside, the music was low, the laughter loud. She scanned the room once—there he was. Back booth. Black hoodie, legs sprawled, beer in hand like he owned the damn world She tightened her jaw and marched toward him, Leo trailing behind like a ghost.

Axel noticed her before she even reached the table. He always noticed her.

“Well, shit,” he said, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips. “Haven’t seen that pretty face in a while.”

“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp, cold. “Don’t try that with me.”

The smirk faded. Slowly, he leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “What’s this about?”

“You beat up my brother!”

Axel’s eyes flicked to Leo “Your brother ran his mouth.”

“He’s eighteen and you promised!”