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Leo wedged his foot in the gap. “I don’t have time for this.” His voice dropped. “She called me because she trusts me. Now let me in, or I let myself in. Your choice.”

Landon’s face hardened. “Wrong move.”

Landon struck first—a tight hook to Leo’s solar plexus. Leo twisted, absorbing it on his ribs.

His response was instant. Leo drove forward, shoulder-first, blasting the door wide as Landon backpedaled. They crashed into the narrow hallway, the front door slamming shut behind them.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Leo growled, blocking a second strike with his forearm. The impact stung.

“Feeling’s not mutual.” Landon grinned. He feinted left, then snapped a knee toward Leo’s thigh.

Leo deflected the blow, his patience evaporating.What the fuck? I’m here to help.

He lunged forward, breaking inside Landon’s guard, slamming him against the wall. His forearm pressed hard against the other man’s throat, pinning him in place.

A framed photograph crashed to the floor, glass shattering across the hardwood.

“She reached out to me,” Leo hissed, their faces inches apart.

Landon drove his forehead forward—hard.

Leo staggered, the world graying. The copper tang of blood snapped his focus back.

Fuck. Son of a bitch was good.

“Last chance.” Leo wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “I’m here to protect your sister, not fight you.”

“Go to hell,” Landon snarled, and hammered a series of blows into Leo’s side.

Leo reeled, pain spearing his ribcage, fighting to stay upright as Landon drove him back. His calf clipped a low table, throwing off his balance. A lamp crashed to the floor, its ceramic base exploding.

Landon came in again, but Leo caught his wrist mid-strike. He pivoted, using the momentum to spin Landon into a submission hold—except Landon twisted free, faster than expected.

What the?—

Leo barely had time to reset before Landon lunged. They collided, grappling for control.

The rug skidded under their weight. Leo crashed against a bookcase, pain flaring down his arm in electric bursts.

This—he blocked another rib shot—is getting ridiculous.

He rammed a fist into Landon’s gut.

The other man folded. Leo seized the opening, twisting behind him and locking in a chokehold.

Landon bucked, clawing at Leo’s forearm, nails digging deep as he fought to break free.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

The voice cut through the struggle, followed by the unmistakable click of a pistol’s safety disengaging.

Leo looked up.

There she was—at the end of the hall, SIG in hand, eyes blazing.

And she waspissed.

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