Chapter 2 Teeth in the Dark
Zuri kept her back straight at the bar, forcing herself to sip water like she belonged. The glass was slick in her hand, her reflection warped by the ice cubes inside. She told herself to keep calm, to stay invisible, but she already knew it wasn’t working.
Eyes tracked her from every corner of the room.
A chair scraped behind her. Heavy boots crossed the floor. The smell of beer and smoke hit her a second before a man slid onto the stool beside her. His cut bore the same wolf-head patch as the others, but his eyes were bloodshot, his grin too wide.
“Well, well,” he drawled, leaning close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in a place like this?”
Zuri shifted an inch, not enough to be obvious, but the man noticed. His grin widened.
“Aw, don’t be shy. We don’t bite.” His breath was thick with whiskey. “Not unless you want us to.”
Laughter from his buddies carried over the music. They were watching, egging him on.
Zuri tightened her grip on the glass. She’d dealt with worse before. Men like this thought the world owed them obedience. Back in her family’s world, it was suits and silk ties. Here it was leather and patches, but the hunger in their eyes was the same.
“I’m just having a drink,” she said evenly.
“That so?” His hand landed on her knee, heavy and claiming. “How ‘bout I buy you somethin’ stronger, huh? Then we see what else you’re thirsty for.”
Her pulse kicked. She pulled her leg back, voice firmer now. “Move your hand.”
The man chuckled, leaning closer, his beard scratching her cheek. “I like a girl with bite. Don’t play hard to get, sweetheart. We all know why you walked in here.”
Heat flushed her face, anger more than fear. She wanted to shove him off the stool, but she knew how that would go. One against all of them wasn’t a fight she could win.
The hand on her knee slid higher.
And then it was gone.
The biker let out a grunt, his arm twisted behind his back before he realized what happened. His stool screeched across the floor as he was wrenched off it.
Amani stood behind him, one hand gripping his wrist, the other planted firm against the back of his neck. The Enforcer’s face was calm, almost bored, but his eyes were dark fire.
“What did I tell you about touching what isn’t yours?” Amani’s voice carried like thunder through the bar.
The man stammered, “I. I didn’t.”
Amani shoved him forward, sending him crashing into a table. Beer spilled, cards scattered, curses filled the air. The biker scrambled up, fists clenched, but froze when Amani took a single step toward him.
The whole room had gone quiet now. Every set of eyes flicked between the two men.
Amani didn’t raise his voice, didn’t need to. “Sit your ass down before I break it.”
The biker’s jaw worked, but he backed off, muttering curses under his breath. His buddies laughed at him, and the sound made his face burn red. Still, he didn’t dare push back. Not against the Enforcer.
Amani turned then. Slowly. Deliberately. His gaze landed on Zuri.
The air in her lungs vanished.
Up close, he was even more dangerous. His presence filled the space, a wall of heat and power. But there was something else in his eyes now—something sharp, like he was seeing deeper than he should.
“You alright?” His tone was steady, but it wasn’t a question so much as a demand for the truth.
Zuri swallowed, forcing herself not to look away. “I can handle myself.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Didn’t look that way to me.”
Before she could answer, he turned, facing the room. His voice rolled out, low but cutting through the noise.
“She’s mine.”
The words echoed, heavy and final.
A ripple went through the crowd—some smirks, some curses, some surprised looks. But no one laughed. No one challenged him.
Zuri froze, her heart thudding.
His.
She wanted to deny it, to say she didn’t belong to anyone. But the weight of the bar pressed in on her. Every man there had just seen what happened. They’d seen him step in. They’d heard the claim.
If she denied it now, she’d paint a target on her back. If she accepted it, she’d step straight into his shadow.
Either way, the choice wasn’t hers anymore.
Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
Amani leaned down, his lips close enough that only she could hear. “You want to survive in here? You let ‘em believe it.”
The hair on her arms rose.
He straightened again, eyes sweeping the room like a predator daring anyone to argue. None did.
Then, as if the matter was settled, he picked up her glass of water and drained it in one swallow. He set it back on the bar with a solid clink.
Zuri’s pulse thundered.
The bartender hurried to pour him another drink, sliding the glass over with shaking hands. Amani didn’t look at him. His gaze stayed locked on her.
For one dizzy second, she couldn’t tell if she’d just been saved… or sentenced.
