Page 23 of Web of Lies

"Come on," he croons, stepping even closer.

"For old times' sake." Before I can stop him, he slips his arm around my waist. He leans closer, his breath reeking of alcohol and triggering a wave of nausea climbing up my throat.

His other hand slides up my exposed thigh, his fingers creeping toward the hem of my skirt.

I slap my hand over his, grip his wrist tightly, and pull his hand away before he can move another inch.

"Don't," I warn, my voice low and sharp like a hiss.

But he doesn't listen. Instead, he grins and hooks his fingers into the threads of my fishnet stockings, brushing his fingertips against my bare skin. "You know I've always loved how stubborn you are, " he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.

Ronan leans closer, his hot breath fanning over my ear. But suddenly, he's yanked away from me. The force of the pull drags me along, and I fall off the barstool, barely landing on my feet.

My eyes widen in terror as I witness Kyle grab Ronan by the collar, effortlessly haul him across the room as if he weighs nothing, and violently shove him toward the wall with the dartboards. The bar falls completely silent around us. Everyone's attention is now on the three of us.

"She said stop, you asshole," he snarls.

"Kyle," I breathe out, my heart hammering against my chest. I rush to his side, grab his arm, and wrap my fingers around his biceps, trying to pull him back.

"It's okay." But he doesn't budge. He's locked in.

His bloodshot eyes are fixed on Ronan. The veins in his neck pulse with fury, and there's something feral in his eyes that I've never seen before.

Ronan lifts both his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Relax, man. I was just trying to help. She looked as if she needed saving. You've been ignoring her all night." He smiles, smug. And that is a big mistake.

The switch in Kyle flips. In a blur, he twists his fist into the fabric of Ronan's shirt and slams him back against the wall so hard the impact rattles the frames. Ronan's skull cracks against the wood, and his groan dies in his throat.

"She's mine," Kyle snarls, the words vibrating like a predator's growl. His grip tightens, cutting off Ronan's breath, whose face swiftly turns a shade of red. "She's with me. If I catch you near her again, I'll break every bone in your body. One by one, before I ultimately kill you. Got it?"

Every shade of color drains from Ronan's face, his hand flying to Kyle's wrist in a desperate attempt to pry him off. But Kyle's arm is iron, the muscles flexed and locked in place. Ronan wheezes, panic flickering in his eyes as he realizes how powerless he is against him.

"Kyle." I raise my voice, digging my fingers into the solid mass of his arm.

"Let him go. He's not worth it." For a moment, he doesn't move.

His chest heaves, and his jaw is locked tight.

The rage in his eyes is wild and feral. After what feels like an eternity, his eyes flick to mine, his pupils softening, and he pulls his hand away from Ronan's shirt.

"Get out of here before I change my mind," Kyle spits, his voice rough.

Ronan doesn't need to be told twice. He stumbles forward, nearly tripping over his own feet, and shoves past us. He heads straight for the door, where his friends wait with nervous glances darting between him and us. Within seconds, they're gone.

The bar remains eerily quiet for a beat until the noise of the music and chatter picks up again as if nothing ever happened. Without a second thought, everyone goes back to their activities as if what just happened was simply another regular occurrence, like a typical bar fight.

My gaze shifts to Kyle, who is taking a deep breath and lifting a hand to rake it through the loose strands of his hair as if trying to erase the tension from his body.

He wraps an arm around my waist and leads me back to our table. He grabs his beer, takes a large gulp, and slams the bottle back onto the table with a thud. I lean into him, brushing my thigh against his, reach for the drink he got me, and take a sip.

"Let's finish our drinks and get out of here," Kyle says, his voice calm.

"That sounds wonderful," I say, shooting him a small smile. "While I love how you protected me, this was way past acceptable."

"I got carried away." He sighs and tilts his head. I look up and meet his gaze. His usually sharp and attentive brown eyes are clouded with a hint of guilt.

"You really did," I say, studying his face, which remains without a shift in expression. "Are you sure everything is okay?"

"Yes." He leans closer and presses a soft kiss on my temple. "I'm just having a bad day with my temper." His lips brush against my skin as he speaks.

"I can tell," I murmur, resting my head on his shoulder. I bring my drink to my lips again and take a sip. Closing my eyes, I savor the rum burning down my throat.

My heart drums in my chest, and a flock of butterflies buzzes in my stomach.

I'm not sure if the sensation is from the adrenaline or from the way Kyle looked at Ronan.

Even though I've never liked seeing violence up close, the way he reacted—so jealous and possessive—stirs something deep inside my chest. Maybe I'm not wrong.

Maybe I'm not fooling myself. The flicker of hope I've been trying to ignore claws at the back of my mind, and for tonight, I will allow myself to dream that he feels the same way as I do.

After finishing our drinks, we say goodbye to the bartender and step out onto the street.

Despite it being summer, the late-night air feels cool against my skin in sharp contrast to the warmth pulsing through my limbs.

We walk down the sidewalk toward the parking lot.

The pavement is a fuzzy blur beneath my feet.

I cling to Kyle, my steps a little too slow and unsteady, my fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket for support.

The second drink is hitting me a lot harder than I expected.

My muscles are like jelly, and if Kyle weren't holding me up, my legs would give out beneath me.

Everything around me starts to bleed together: the neon signs and car lights melting with every blink.

"Is my place okay, Baby?" Kyle murmurs, his breath warm and comforting against my skin. The low rumble of his voice vibrates in my ears, rattling through my chest and down my spine.

"Yes." I nod, struggling to stay alert.

Kyle lets out a chuckle. The sound is equal parts comforting and dangerous as he pulls me closer. "You good?"

"Yes," I slur, the words tumbling off my lips.

As we step into the parking lot, the car's lights flash to life with a soft beep.

Kyle pulls open the passenger side door and helps me into the seat, carefully guiding me down like I might break.

He pulls the seatbelt across me and clicks it into place, brushing a strand of hair from my face with his knuckles.

"You gonna be good for me tonight?" he asks, crouching down beside me. "Do you want me to take care of you?" I turn my head to the side and meet his gaze, his face a muddled image.

"Yes," I breathe out. "Please."

"Is anything off-limits?" he asks again, this time quieter.

"No," I whisper.

"That's what I like to hear." His hand lands on my thigh, and his fingers thread through the mesh of my tights, brushing against my bare skin.

My breath catches, and heat pools low in my abdomen.

He leans in, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth.

"We'll be home soon, Baby. Just sit back and let me handle everything. "

He shuts the door, and I watch through drooping eyelids as he circles around the car and climbs into the driver's seat. He starts the engine, and the car rolls backward as he backs out of the parking lot.

I lean my head back against the seat. My limbs grow heavy, and the car’s gentle rocking and the soft hum of the engine lull me deeper into the pull of exhaustion until I fully surrender to the darkness.