That presence.
Eric doesn’t notice.
But I do.
And for a split second—I don’t feel scared.
I feel certain.
Then he opens his mouth and his words land like a crack of thunder.
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
For half a second, I don’t move.
I don’t breathe.
I don’t even blink.
Because that voice?
Low. Controlled. Furious.
It can only be David. And everything in me is completely attuned to him.
Eric’s grip tightens reflexively before he realizes someone else is in the room. He turns, annoyance flashing across his face—and then confusion.
Because David isn’t just standing there.
He’s stalking forward.
Slow.
Deliberate.
The air in the shop feels charged, like right before a summer storm splits the sky open.
“Excuse me?” Eric scoffs, trying to puff up his chest.
David doesn’t answer him.
He looks at me.
Not at Eric’s grip on my elbow.
Not at the scene.
At me.
And something in his expression makes my pulse kick up hard.
“You okay, linda?” he asks.
His voice is still rough, still edged, but it’s different now.
Focused.
On me.