Page 5

Tessa

The bell above the door chimes, and my heart does that stupid thing again.

Skips. Flutters. Flips.

Like it doesn’t know how to behave when Torrent walks in.

He moves through the diner with a confidence that only he has, every bit of muscle and menace wrapped in leather and tattoos. Dark eyes scanning, jaw tight, that low buzz of power always trailing in his wake.

I wipe my hands on my apron and make my way over, already trying to calm the storm inside me.

“Hey.”

“You shouldn’t be out walking alone at night.”

The words stop me cold. My smile falters.

He doesn’t even let me speak first.

“What?” I ask, blinking. “What are you talking about?”

“Friday night.” His gaze sharpens. “You were walking in the dark. Alone. No one around. What the hell were you thinking?”

Wait, he saw me? When? How?

My pulse kicks up for a whole new reason now. I cross my arms and tilt my head, trying not to let him see how much he rattles me.

“Are you stalking me now? That’s kind of creepy,” I joke, flashing a teasing grin.

He doesn’t smile.

Not even a twitch.

Just that stare. Unblinking. Waiting.

I shift my weight and look away, suddenly flustered. “I walk everywhere. It’s not a big deal.”

“Why?”

I hesitate. Because if I tell him the truth, that I sold my car just to afford the first month’s rent and a tiny security deposit, then he’ll see too much.

“I just don’t have a car anymore. Decided to simplify things.”

He leans forward slightly, voice low and serious. “It’s too dangerous, Tessa. You know that, right?”

I bristle. “I’m not a child.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You’re acting like it.”

He holds my gaze, and there’s this quiet, building tension between us. Not anger. Not exactly.

Worry.

Real, raw, unexpected.

I don’t know how to deal with that.

No one’s worried about me in a long time.

And now here he is, all brooding fury and protective heat, making my stomach twist and my skin hum.

“I’ll be careful,” I say, softer now.

He doesn’t look convinced.

So, I shift gears because I need the air to change between us.

I lean in just a little, eyes locking with his. “Besides, if I get into trouble, I’ll just scream your name. Big bad biker might come running to save me.”

His mouth twitches.

A low chuckle escapes him, rich and unexpected.

“You’re good at that,” he says.

“At what?”

“Making me forget what I was mad about.”

I grin. “It’s a gift.”

The tension eases between us, like a stretched rubber band finally let go.

I pull my notepad from my apron and tap it with my pen. “So, what’ll it be today? Eggs? Coffee? Maybe something that won’t kill you?”

He leans back in the stool. “You hear about that new gun shop that opened in town?”

My brows rise. “Yeah, actually. Savage Steel, right? Heard the guys that run it are kinda intense.”

He nods. “You been?”

“Not yet. But it looks badass. I’ve always wanted to learn to shoot. Just never had the chance.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes my skin prickle.

“I own it,” he says.

My breath catches. “Wait. You? What?”

“It’s mine. The shop. The name. The setup. All of it.”

I blink, stunned. “That’s kind of hot, actually.”

He smirks. “Come check it out sometime. I’ll show you around.”

My heart stumbles again, but I force a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

Because saying yes feels like stepping off a cliff.

And saying no feels impossible.

He nods like he gets it. Like he knows I’m scared and isn’t going to push me.

And that? That’s what makes it even harder to resist him.

Because under all that danger and dominance, Torrent is real. And I think he sees me, even the parts I try to keep hidden.

And maybe that’s the scariest part of all.

I bring him his food a few minutes later. Bacon, eggs, toast, and a tall cup of black coffee. He takes it with a nod, and I notice how his fingers brush mine for just a second longer than they need to.

“I’ll come check out the shop,” I say casually, like I haven’t been obsessing over it since he mentioned it.

His head lifts, eyes locking with mine, and that slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. That smile is dangerous. It makes my body react in ways it shouldn’t.

“Yeah?” he says. “When?”

“My only night off is Friday.”

He nods like it’s already set in stone. “Come by Friday night, then. I’ll be there. After we close, there’s a party, too. You should stick around. Have some fun.”

My lips part, and I swear my heart slams into my chest. A party. With him. With all of them. The Royal Bastards.

Trouble wrapped in a sexy leather package.

I shrug like it’s no big deal. “I’ll see.”

He gives me a look, like he sees right through me, past the cool-girl front and into the storm inside.

“Looking forward to it,” he says, low and rough, and then goes back to his food like he didn’t just send my entire body into overdrive.

I get home late, lock the door behind me, and kick off my shoes. The apartment is quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that sinks in your bones and makes you ache in places you didn’t know were empty.

I open the fridge, pull out a bottle of cheap vodka, and twist the cap off.

Just one drink.

Okay, maybe two.

I flop down onto my saggy couch, feet tucked under me, and take a long sip. The burn feels good. Grounding.

I stare at the ceiling, replaying the way Torrent looked at me. The way his voice dropped when he said ‘have some fun.’ The way my body reacted, like it already knew something was coming, something I might not be ready for.

A party with him. With all his brothers.

The thought alone makes me squirm, makes something tighten low in my belly, and something else clench in my chest.

I shouldn’t go.

I should stay far away from that world.

From him.

I know better.

But I look around my tiny apartment. Peeling paint. Cracked tiles. Silence louder than any party could ever be.

I’ve been lonely for a long time. Longer than I want to admit.

Maybe just one night of letting my hair down wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Maybe I need it more than I think.

Maybe trouble’s not always a bad thing.

I lift the bottle to my lips again and whisper to the empty room. “I’m probably going to regret this.”

But deep down, a little voice answers back. “You won’t.”