Noah had been waiting.

  He had sensed the other presence long before leading Vivian into Orchid Alley. The shadow had been careful, but not careful enough. His movements were too controlled, his pace too measured, the kind of calculated restraint that came from someone trained to move unseen.

  This wasn’t some bystander.

  This was someone who had been watching her for a while.

  So Noah had done what he did best.

  He had disappeared.

  He had let her believe she had lost him, let her slow down, let her take that first step into realizing she was completely alone.

  And then he had waited.

  To see if the other man would act.

  To see if Vivian would survive the lesson she had been walking toward since the moment she started following him.

  And then the older man appeared.

  The approach was familiar, inevitable, pathetic.

  Noah had seen men like this before, men who wandered through places like this because they knew they could, because they had enough money to erase the weight of their actions, because they believed entitlement was just another currency.

  And now, Vivian was standing in front of one.

  She still thought she could talk her way out of it.

  She still thought she had control.

  But Noah knew better.

  From the moment she hesitated, from the moment her shoulders went tight, from the moment the older man’s fingers wrapped around her wrist—

  She had already lost.

  Noah stood in the shadows, relaxed, unreadable, watching.

  And he did nothing.

  Not yet.

  “How much?”

  Noah’s fingers twitched.

  The words came out too smooth, too confident, the way men like this always spoke when they had never been told no before.

  Not a question.

  A transaction.

  Noah’s jaw tightened.

  His pulse slowed, his mind already calculating how he would do it.

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  There were ways to break men like this.

  He could start with the wrist, pressing his thumb just under the base where the tendons were weak, snapping the bones before the man even realized he was in pain.

  Or he could take his time, pressing his foot to the man’s throat, watching him choke as he finally understood he had made a mistake.

  That would be satisfying.

  To hear the crack of cartilage.

  To watch the realization creep into his eyes.

  To feel the moment he knew he was about to die.

  But that wasn’t why he was standing here, was it?

  That wasn’t why he had let it get this far.

  Because this wasn’t about the older man.

  It was about the other one.

  The one who had been following her before she even knew she was being watched.

  Would he act?

  Would he care?

  Would he let this happen?

  Noah exhaled slowly, waiting, watching.

  Vivian was still resisting.

  Her pulse was visible in her throat, her breath coming too fast, too uneven, but her strength wasn’t enough.

  She was still trying, still clawing at the illusion of control, but the older man was gaining confidence.

  Then—his hand slid lower.

  Fingers curling around the soft fabric of her blouse, pressing into her waist, claiming something that was never his to touch.

  Noah inhaled, slow and deep.

  A sharp, violent shudder curled through him, twisted and wrong, possessive and enraged, hot enough to make his vision blur at the edges.

  He had planned to wait.

  He had planned to let the unknown man take care of this.

  But now, his body didn’t want to stay still anymore.

  A sick heat slithered through his spine, coiling in his gut, a dark, perverse thrill at the sight of her unraveling—the way her body twisted beneath the weight of someone else’s touch, the way she writhed, the way she tried and failed.

  He liked seeing her like this.

  Not with this pathetic excuse of a man.

  But the moment itself.

  The loss of control.

  The moment she realized she wasn’t untouchable.

  And he hated it.

  Because this man had no right.

  This wasn’t his.

  This wasn’t for him.

  It had never been for anyone else.

  Noah clenched his jaw, fingers digging into his palms, the sharp sting grounding him in the present.

  He had saved her before without thinking.

  Maybe that had just been familiarity, maybe he had been acting on instinct, on muscle memory, on the quiet annoyance of watching someone he recognized get dragged into a world she wasn’t prepared for.

  But taking her to the motel—

  Making her clean up—

  Stripping her of every trace of what had happened before he threw her back into the world—

  That had been something else.

  Because he had seen it.

  He had seen the way she swung that hammer.

  He had seen the way her eyes darkened, her hands steady, her movements cold and deliberate as she had beaten a man to death.

  And in that moment, he had already decided she was his.

  He just hadn’t realized it until now.

  Vivian screamed.

  The older man chuckled, amused.

  Noah felt something snap inside him.

  This man was touching what wasn’t his to touch.

  This man was breathing near what wasn’t his to breathe in.

  His muscles coiled, his body already half a second away from stepping forward, but then—

  The fabric of her blouse tore.

  Noah inhaled sharply.

  He was going to move.

  But then—

  The unknown man moved first.

  The impact was immediate—the force of it sent the older man crashing back, his body slamming into the brick wall, then to the ground.

  Noah exhaled slowly, releasing the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  So, this was his limit.

  That was useful information.

  Now he knew where the line was drawn.

  His gaze flicked to Vivian, watching the way her fingers clutched the torn fabric against her chest, the way her breath was still too fast, too uneven.

  She was looking at him.

  Not at Noah.

  At the other man.

  And then, barely above a breath, she spoke his name.

  “You’re Lucas.”

  Noah felt his lips curl.

  Ah.

  So she has a guard dog.

  He turned away before either of them could sense him, before Lucas could even begin to suspect that someone else had been there this entire time.

  His footsteps were soundless as he slipped deeper into the alley, his body moving before either of them could begin to realize what they were missing.

  Vivian had been his from the moment she had swung that hammer.

  And no one else had the right to touch her.

  Not unless he allowed it.