Sheila’s POV
The night outside the club feels heavier than before.
Maybe it’s the way the air smells sharp with smoke and gasoline or the way Brendan’s shoulders tense when the door shuts behind us.
He doesn’t say anything as we walk toward the car. The men at the entrance nod again, but this time I catch the subtle shift in their posture, the silent acknowledgement that he isn’t just another man coming out of a bar. He’s their man.
And I’m the stranger beside him.
He opens my door but pauses before I can get in. “Don’t look at them too long,” he says softly. “They’ll take it the wrong way.”
His tone isn’t scolding. It’s protective the kind that feels like a warning wrapped in care. I nod, sliding into the seat, heartbeat too loud in my ears.
Once the car starts moving, the city lig
