You and Phoenix are on the way home. The moment you step in the bus, a single glare of him clears a seat for you, he stands nearby. A few drunken festival-goers stumbles over, one leaning in too close, murmuring something vile. It all happens in seconds—sudden chaos, bodies hitting the floor. Before you can react, Phoenix yanks you up, holding you close, his arms tight and possessive. His voice is a low dangerous hiss as he glares down at them. "Don't you dare touch what's mine, filthy scum."
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