Page 2 of The Scout

His gaze flicked past me, out toward the hedge-lined path that disappeared into the dark beyond the garden.

“You never know who’s watching.”

I swallowed, suddenly aware of how isolated the patio felt. The party inside was a wall of glass away, but standing out here under his scrutiny made it feel farther.

Returning inside would have been the logical choice.

Yet, I didn’t move.

Maybe it was curiosity—or maybe it was the way he stood between me and the dark like he had no intention of letting anything past him.

Ryker Dane was exactly the kind of man I avoided. A former special ops soldier turned billionaire contractor, the antithesis of everything I believed in. The men I dated were soft-spoken, humanitarian types who worked in clean offices and donated to global relief funds.

Ryker built weapons. Ryker played with warlords. Ryker ran in darkness where I preferred to dance in the light.

And yet, standing there with him watching me like I was the only thing worth paying attention to, I couldn’t ignore the pull.

“Relax,” I said, brushing my hair over one shoulder. “I can handle myself.”

His eyes narrowed, just enough to remind me of the stories Will told—the ones about how Ryker never let anyone walk away from a fight if they started it.

“I know,” he said quietly.

Something in his voice made the air between us shift.

I wasn’t sure if it was a warning or an invitation.

Either way, I didn’t look away.

And neither did he.

Ryker finally stepped out of the shadow of thecolumn, his figure illuminated by the soft, golden light of the lanterns. He wore a tailored black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing the sinewy strength of his forearms. Dark jeans sat low on his hips, the casual cut contrasting with the sharpness of his presence. Every movement he made was deliberate, as if the world existed to accommodate him.

I had to force myself to breathe normally. The sheer presence of him—six feet four inches of lean muscle and unapologetic authority—was enough to make anyone feel small. His hair was dark and perfectly cut, but it was his eyes that held me hostage: icy and unwavering, like he was dissecting every word I hadn’t said yet.

And there I was, in my deep purple cocktail dress that felt too tight around the chest and too short at the hem under his gaze. The strappy heels I’d borrowed from my roommate weren’t doing much for my balance either, especially not now that my knees felt like they might give out. I tugged at the hem of my dress instinctively, though it didn’t stop his eyes from flickering downward for the briefest of seconds. When they returned to mine, there was a glint there, dangerous and magnetic.

“Will’s my best friend,” Ryker said, his tone calm but unrelenting, like a challenge. “He’d never forgive me if something happened to you.”

“And you’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen?” I arched an eyebrow, a slight edge of defiance in my voice, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince—him or myself.

“Something like that,” he murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I let my fingers trace the rim of my empty glass,trying to find a distraction. “Will’s a little overprotective. I’m not his problem anymore.”

“You’re not,” Ryker agreed, and for a moment I thought he’d stop there. Then his gaze locked on mine, sharper this time. “You’re mine.”

The words hung between us, heavy and unshakable.

A flicker of heat rose up my neck, but I refused to let it show. “Bold of you to assume I need protection.”

“It’s not about what you need,” Ryker said, stepping closer. “It’s about what I can’t ignore.”

The distance between us shrank to an arm’s length. His voice was still calm, but the undercurrent of intensity was impossible to miss. His proximity should have been suffocating, but instead, it was electrifying. I felt more alive standing in front of him than I had all night.

“You really think I’m in danger?” I asked, my voice quieter now, the sarcasm I’d clung to slipping away.

Ryker’s gaze shifted past me again, scanning the hedge-lined garden as though there was something—or someone—he expected to emerge from the shadows. His jaw tightened briefly before he looked back at me.

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