𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧' 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 ─────⋆⋅★𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘺

𝟓𝟓. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞

The air outside the diner was sharp and electric, carrying the hum of a city that never really sleeps. Drew and Suki stepped out together, the faint buzz of their conversation melting into the din of streetlights and passing cars. She clutched her iced americano, her free hand brushing against the sleeve of his jacket as they walked side by side.

But the moment their figures emerged from the glow of the diner's neon sign, chaos erupted.

Cameras flashed like lightning strikes, blinding them as a wave of paparazzi surged forward, surrounding them like a pack of wolves closing in. Voices shouted over one another, each question more invasive than the last.

"Suki, are you still with Marcello?"
"Drew, are you two back together?"
"Tallulah, what does your mother think about your speech?"
"Is this the reconciliation we've all been waiting for?"

Suki froze, her breath catching in her throat as the sound and fury of their presence closed in around them. But Drew was already moving. He stepped in front of her, his broad frame shielding her from the mob as if it was second nature, his protective instincts snapping into place. His voice cut through the cacophony like a whip.

"Who the fuck does it look like she's with?" he growled, his tone daring them to push further. The declaration hung in the air, sharp and unyielding, and Suki's eyes widened at his sudden claim. It was raw, possessive, and left no room for ambiguity.

One of the paparazzi laughed nervously, taking another step closer. "Drew, what's it like to be back with Tallulah Rose after everything? You worried about her past catching up to her?"

His jaw tightened, his entire body coiled with tension as the words pierced through the chaotic din of flashing cameras and shouted questions. The pap's snide comment lingered in the air like a spark threatening to ignite, and Drew's restraint, already frayed, snapped.

Without hesitation, Drew surged forward, his movements quick and precise, born out of pure instinct. His hand shot out, grabbing the man by the collar in a tight, unrelenting grip. The photographer barely had time to gasp before Drew shoved him backward, his strength unchecked. The man stumbled, tripping over his own feet as he landed hard on the pavement, his camera clattering beside him, the sound sharp and jarring against the cacophony of voices.

Drew loomed over him, his presence towering, a storm barely contained. His voice, low and venomous, cut through the stunned silence that followed. "Say one more thing about her," he snarled, his tone a dangerous growl that left no room for negotiation, "and you'll fucking regret it."

The photographer's eyes widened in shock, his bravado crumbling under Drew's glare. Around them, the rest of the paparazzi froze, their cameras momentarily forgotten, as if they too had been caught in the gravity of Drew's rage. The streetlights above cast long, fractured shadows across the scene, highlighting the tension that crackled like electricity in the air.

For a moment, it felt as though time itself had stilled, the world holding its breath. Drew's broad shoulders heaved as he stood over the pap, his fists clenched, the veins in his arms taut with restrained fury. His protective instincts were in full force, the fierce need to shield Suki from the barrage of disrespect and cruelty overriding every other thought.

Behind him, Suki's breath hitched, the scene unfolding before her both shocking and... something else entirely. She had seen Drew protect her before, but not like this—not with such raw, visceral intensity. It wasn't just anger fueling him; it was something deeper, something primal, an unyielding love that refused to let her be diminished.

"Drew," she called softly, her voice trembling, though she wasn't sure if it was from fear or something else. Her hand reached out, brushing his arm lightly. "It's okay. Let's just go."