Chapter 1
“All I’m saying is,” Steph leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering her voice even though the café was nearly empty, “that man is the literal definition of a morally grey character.”
“Would you be quiet!” I hissed, stomping on her foot under the table.
“Ow!”
My lips tugged upward in satisfaction as my heel found its target. Steph groaned, doubling over slightly as I sidestepped her. The metal tray weighed heavy in my hand as I made my way toward the man in question, heart beating just a little faster with every step.
Stormy.Caged.Mysterious.
My heart did a stupid little flip.
Damn it. Why did bad boys have to be so... hot?
Because there was no other word to describe the six-foot-four, leather-clad, tattooed man stretched across one of the orange vinyl booths like he owned the place. He looked older than us—late twenties, maybe early thirties. Not in a tired way. In a lived-in way. Like someone who’d seen things and learned to keep them tucked behind his eyes.
Those eyes followed me as I approached, dark and sharp, tracking every movement. Not hungry. Not leering. Just... aware.
“Here’s your coffee.” I set the steaming mug in front of him, careful not to spill it. My fingers brushed porcelain, then retreated as I hugged the now-empty tray to my chest. “Can I get you anything else?”
His gaze lifted fully to my face.
“No, thank you.”
Oh. Snap.
That voice—low, smooth, rough around the edges—scraped straight down my spine in a way that should’ve been criminal.
“Okay,” I said quickly, already turning away before my face could betray me.
I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away.
Steph was wiping the counter with a rag that had definitely lived a full life before today. She wagged her eyebrows and flashed me a shit-eating grin the moment I reached her.
“Not. A. Word,” I warned, placing the tray down.
“Girl,” she whispered loudly, “if a man looked at me the way he looks at you, I’d climb him like a damn tree. I’m telling you—that man walked straight out of a BookTok girl’s wet dream. He’s Xaden and Rhysand’s lovechild. He’s Zade in a Lana Del Rey music video. He’s—”
“Not my type.”
I cut her off flatly.
Steph’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh my God. Is that why you’re blushing like you spent too long in the sun?”
Before I could respond, her eyes flicked past me.
“Oh my God,” she hissed. “He’s looking over here again!”
“Steph.”
“Throw the man a bone already!”
I rolled my eyes, grabbed a notepad, and escaped to the other side of the café before she could embarrass me further.
“That’ll be five dollars.”
I stood in front of him again an hour later, heart oddly aware of his presence even though I’d spent most of the evening pretending not to notice him.
He stood slowly, unfolding himself from the booth. His leather jacket was gone now, draped casually beside him. A plain white T-shirt clung to his broad shoulders and biceps like a sin. His muscles flexed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill.
“Keep the change.”
There it was again. That voice.
“Thanks,” I said, quieter than I meant to be.
He slung the jacket over his shoulder and walked toward the door, passing Steph—who looked like she’d just seen God and forgotten how breathing worked.
I watched him leave.
The café settled into silence once the door shut behind him. Closing time. I grabbed a broom and lobbed it gently—but accurately—at Steph.
The handle smacked her forehead.
“Ouch!” she yelped, rubbing the spot. “What was that for?”
“Your prince is gone. Back to work, Cinderella.”
“At least let me watch him drive away,” she whined, plastering herself to the front window.
Outside, a tall, leather-clad shadow strode down the street.
“Ahhh,” she sighed dreamily. “To ride that thing...”
I snorted. “Steph.”
“The bike doesn’t look bad either.”
I laughed despite myself. “If you’re that obsessed, why don’t you ask him out?”
She shook her head immediately. “Nope. He only has eyes for you. Plus, he’s... too perfect. I’d be scared to fart in front of a guy like that.”
“Okay. Horrifying mental image.”
“Shh!” she hissed. “He’s getting on!”
Sure enough, biker hottie—because that’s what we’d dubbed him—stopped beside a mean-looking machine. He swung a leg over the bike, keys sliding into the ignition when—
Chime.
The bells above the café door jingled.
“Sorry, we’re closed—”
The words died in my throat.
A man rushed in, face hidden behind a black ski mask, eyes wild.
“Where’s the money?” he shouted, gun raised. “I ain’t playing. Give me the money!”
My chest tightened instantly. Sweat broke out along my collarbone, heart slamming against my ribs.
“Both of you,” he barked, waving the gun. “Register. Now.”
Steph scrambled to my side, fingers clutching my arm.
“Okay—okay,” she sobbed, dragging me forward. “We’ll give you the cash. Please don’t hurt us.”
My thoughts slowed, thick and sticky.
The gun.
I couldn’t see anything else.
The silver gleam under the dull lights yanked something open in my mind—something I’d buried deep and nailed shut years ago.
My hands started to shake.
“You!” the man snapped, gun swinging toward me. “Don’t move or I’ll blow your head off!”
Steph shot me a terrified look as she opened the register, bills spilling out.
I whimpered, pressing closer to her—
Crash!
The café door slammed open.
Biker hottie strode in like a force of nature.
“Stay back!” Ski Mask barely got the words out before biker hottie moved.
I didn’t even see it happen. One second he was across the room, the next he had the gun twisted out of Ski Mask’s grip with brutal precision.
“On your knees.”
The command was calm. Deadly.
For half a second, I thought the robber would comply.
Then he lunged.
Biker hottie caught him mid-air and slammed him to the floor with a sickening crunch. The sound echoed—bone on tile, flesh on concrete—and my stomach rolled.
The robber groaned as biker hottie rolled him over, knee pressed hard into his spine.
“Get off me!” he snarled.
Biker hottie grabbed his head and slammed it into the floor.
Once.
Twice.
The sound sent my vision blurring.
“Call the cops!”
The words reached me, but they tangled in my head. My pulse roared in my ears. My body wouldn’t move.
I felt myself tipping.
The last thing I saw was his eyes snapping to mine—sharp, alarmed—as he realized something was very wrong.
Then everything went dark.
