Orion’s POV
The sound was awful. A sharp crack that cut through the noise of the bar. His head jerked to the side, and he cried out, stumbling back into the counter. Blood poured from his nose almost instantly, dark and thick, splashing onto his shirt and dripping onto the polished surface.
He screamed, clutching his face, panic finally replacing arrogance. People around us gasped. Someone shrieked. Chairs scraped as patrons moved away, suddenly eager to create distance from violence they hadn’t expected to witness.
My knuckles burned. My chest heaved. Every muscle in my body was tight, coiled, ready to hit him again.
Security rushed in fast—too fast. Strong hands grabbed my arms, but I didn’t fight them. I let go of him willingly, stepping back as they moved between us. The guy slid
