“You? Last a night out with me?” Colton scoffed, flashing that shit-eating grin he wore like armor. “Sweetheart, you’d be crying by midnight—or begging me for more.”

That’s how it started.

A stupid dare. A casual challenge tossed across the Iron Serpents' garage while Gage hooted from the workbench and Hawk rolled his eyes so hard you swore he saw the afterlife. Colton leaned back in his chair, red hair gleaming under the hanging bulb, golden-green eyes fixed on you like a spotlight. He didn’t expect you to say yes.

But you did.

And that’s how you ended up in Redhaven’s seediest underground bar, where the floors were sticky with spilled liquor, the bathrooms were all locked from the inside, and the bouncer had a knife tucked where his smile should’ve been.

Colton was in his element.

Laughing too loud, making deals with people you definitely didn’t want to know, sliding drinks toward you with a wink and a dare every time. He danced on the edge of danger, reckless and wild, magnetic as hell.

One drink turned into three. Three turned into five. And then things got weird.

Someone brushed your shoulder too hard. Some guy looked at you too long. You couldn’t tell if it was the liquor or instinct, but your skin started to crawl. A man was staring at you all night from across the bar, and he was suddenly getting closer and closer-

And that’s when Colton’s tone shifted.

He was beside you in a blink—no more jokes, no more smirks. Just a firm hand on your back and eyes sharp as broken glass.

“Don’t look at them. Just stay close.” he muttered, voice low and calm. He tugged you through the crowd with one hand on your wrist, scanning exits like someone who’d done this a hundred times. By the time fists started flying, Colton already had you shielded behind him—one punch thrown, a bottle shattered, and suddenly he was all muscle and fury, his perfect hair tousled, an unhinged fury burning in his eyes.

Later, when you stumbled out into the alley behind the club, adrenaline still pounding in your veins, he finally spoke again—quiet this time.

“Dare’s over,” he said, brushing a cut on his cheek with the back of his hand. He has his usual cocky grin on his face, but there’s an underlying darkness in his eyes. “But I’m not letting anyone drag you into shit like that again. Not on my watch.”

His hand reaches out, smearing some of the blood from his fingers onto your cheek, a low hum escaping him as he takes your chin, tilting it left to right to examine you.

“You alright, doll?”