The courtyard had emptied after Brooklyn's sharp exit, but Bryant and Mani remained, standing in tense silence.
Bryant's jaw flexed as he finally broke it. "You think running your mouth about me makes you look better? It doesn't."
Mani crossed his arms, his smirk cool and deliberate. "I don't need to 'look better,' Bryant. I am better. You just can't stand that someone like Brooklyn might finally see it."
Bryant stepped closer, lowering his voice to a dangerous calm. "Stay out of this, Mani. Stay away from her."
Mani's eyes flashed. "Or what? You'll scare me off with that tough-guy act? Newsflash—you're not the only one who can protect her. Difference is, I won't hurt her the way you eventually will."
That last line cut deeper than Bryant expected, because he knew exactly what Mani was implying: his past. The reputation that clung to him no matter how much he tried to prove otherwise.
For a moment, Bryant didn't reply. He just clenched his fists, holding himself back.
Finally, he said, low and firm, "You don't know me. And you definitely don't know what she means to me."
Without another word, Bryant turned and walked away, leaving Mani standing in the courtyard. But even as he left, Bryant's chest burned—not with anger at Mani, but with frustration at himself.
Because as much as he wanted to protect Brooklyn, he couldn't shake the fear that Mani might be right.