The man leaned in, saying something Clyde couldn't hear. But he saw the look—the kind that made his blood run hot.
Oliver tried to keep space between them, stepping in just enough.
But the man didn't back off.
He didn't get the message, or worse, deliberately ignored it.
Clyde's grip on the handlebar tightened, knuckles pale beneath the leather glove.
He hadn't come here to witness this.
He hadn't come here to let someone else stand where only he belonged.
If this stranger didn't learn his place soon…
Clyde dismounted his bike in silence, the storm in his chest brewing with every step he took.
His helmet stayed on, shielding the fire in his eyes. Another helmet hung in his grip—meant for one person only.
But his gaze was locked on the stranger beside Ryley.
Too close. Too familiar. Too bold.
Clyde's boots hit the pavement like thunder, each stride pulsing with restrained violence.
The fury in his chest clawed at the edge of control, hot and blinding.
