Finley caught sight of Uriah gripping Tegan's injured wrist. The patch of frostbitten skin, already flushed red, began turning an ugly shade of purple under his squeeze.

A wave of outrage washed over Finley. He stormed forward and yanked Tegan's hand away from Uriah's grasp with force.

"Uriah, are you fucking blind? Can't you see she's hurt there?"

Uriah fell silent, his breath growing heavy. He instinctively glanced at the wrist now cradled protectively in Finley's hands, the skin where he'd squeezed already mottled with bruises.

"How did this happen?” Uriah demanded, voice rough.

Tegan met his gaze but said nothing. The question was pointless-she'd told him yesterday. What had he said on the phone? Something about her making a scene. She'd insisted Leslie had sent people after her, that she'd barely escaped being kidnapped. And Uriah? He'd just said, “Leslie would never do something like that.”

Finley's patience snapped. “You don't know how she got hurt? Leslie sent thugs to kidnap her. She was trapped in a freezing cave on the cliffs—”

Uriah cut him off. "The two of you rehearsed this story together, didn't you?"

The accusation fell heavy and toxic, sucking all the warmth from the room.

Tegan's frosty eyes met Uriah's, filled now with chill resentment and an impenetrable distance.

Finley stared, his mind nearly blank with disbelief. “Are you insane, Uriah? Seriously? You think we set all this up just to go after Leslie? Who the hell does she think she is that we'd round up a whole team to stage an elaborate conspiracy just for her?"

He lifted Tegan's arm, showing Uriah the ugly bruises. “Look at this! It's from being trapped in that cave all night. There's more here, and here." As he pointed out each injury-hand, wrist-what little color remained in her skin was marred by unmistakable frostbite. Thankfully, it wasn't severe, but there was no mistaking that she'd been hurt.

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Uriah's eyes.

Before he could answer, Helena piped up from behind him, her voice dripping with forced innocence. "It's been freezing lately. Anyone could catch a bit of frostbite just walking down the street. Does it really have to be a drama, Tegan? Ms. Tegan's been here for a while, hasn't she?s it really a surprise she got a bit too cold?"

Finley rounded on her. "Excuse me, lady—”

But Uriah had lost his patience altogether. “Tegan!"

He strode forward, grabbed Tegan's arm, and pulled her away from Finley.

Finley felt Tegan slip from his

grasp and in the next heartbeat, he grabbed her other hand, refusing to let go, "Back off, Uriah! Don't mak me do something hegret, the snapped, his free hand darting to his waist.

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Finley might usually play the laid-back peacemaker, but there were limits. It all depended on his mood—and right now, he was in no mood to back down.

In a sudden blur of motion, Finley drew a gun, leveling it at Uriah's chest. “Let her go. Now."

Helena shrieked—her scream slicing

through the charged air-then

reflexively tried to duck behind Uriah.

But Uriah's focus was fixed on

Finley their eye

locked in a

dangerous, silent standoff

Uriah's voice was raw, the edge of a challenge in every word. "And if I don't?”

A single gunshot shattered the hush of the restaurant.

Uriah grunted, the sound rough in his throat, pain blazing across his arm. His grasp loosened; Tegan slipped free.

In a flash, Finley pulled Tegan tightly into the shelter of his arms. He glanced at her bruised wrist, then glared at Uriah, his voice ice-cold and deadly quiet. "I told you to let her go."

His words were as sharp as a knife's edge. Every trace of his former playfulness was gone, replaced with an aura of danger that sent chills through the room.