A young man in a crisp chauffeur’s uniform stepped out, his cap pulled low. He stood beside the open door, looking across the roof at Maya pressed against his vehicle.
His jaw set once. His hand came up and removed his driver’s cap with careful precision.
Military-short hair caught the string lights. He set the cap on the limo’s roof and stepped around the front of the car.
“That’s my sister.” His voice was quiet, flat, completely controlled.
Tyler spun around, his laughter dying. The crowd fell silent.
The young man stood between Tyler and Maya, hands relaxed at his sides. No anger in his eyes—something far more dangerous.
“I… I didn’t know,” Tyler stammered, suddenly recognizing the uniform, the haircut, the way the man held himself.
“Walk away.” The driver’s voice dropped even quieter. “Right now. Before I remember I’m not overseas anymore.”
Tyler’s friends were already backing toward the hotel entrance. One grabbed Tyler’s arm.
“Dude, let’s go. Now.”
But Tyler’s pride wouldn’t let him retreat in front of the cameras. “You think that uniform scares me? This is America, not some desert.”
Maya reached up and touched her brother’s arm—not pulling him back, just touching it. “Jake, don’t.”
Jake Chen didn’t move, didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed locked on Tyler.
“Last chance,” Jake said. “I’ve been driving limos for three months since I got back. Trying to readjust. Trying to be normal.”
He took one small step forward.
“But you just hit my little sister in front of a crowd. So normal just went out the window.”
