He watched her walk back into the club—shoulders tense, eyes wide, pretending she wasn't afraid.
But he saw it.
He always saw it.
Ayla wasn't just some girl anymore.
She was his problem now.
And someone had just made the mistake of touching what he hadn't even claimed yet.
⸻
"Find out who was outside Eden tonight," Leon said, voice sharp as a blade.
Nico raised an eyebrow. "You think it's random?"
Leon's jaw flexed. "Nothing about this city is random."
⸻
Within an hour, the footage came in.
Blurry shots of a man in a dark coat, lingering near the club's entrance two nights in a row.
Always leaving when Ayla stepped out.
Coward.
"Pull facial recognition," Leon snapped. "I want a name."
⸻
The computer pinged fifteen minutes later.
Kian Devos.
Low-level enforcer for a rival syndicate. Recently returned from exile.
Dangerous. Reckless.
Obsessed with getting Leon's attention.
And now, he had it.
⸻
Leon stood, sliding on his coat.
Nico sighed. "You going to warn her?"
Leon shook his head.
"I'm going to warn him."
⸻
By midnight, Kian's crew was scattered.
Three in the hospital.
Two missing.
And Kian?
Tied to a chair in one of Leon's safehouses, blood on his collar and a swollen lip.
Leon crouched in front of him, calm, collected.
"You looked at her."
Kian spat. "She's just a girl."
Leon's voice dropped to a whisper.
"She's my girl."
Then he stood.
And Kian screamed.