When the room emptied he fixed me with a stare that had weight to it. “You good?” Devil asked.
“Fine,” I said too fast, too soft.
“Bullshit.” He leaned back in his chair, studyin’ me. “You haven’t been by my office in days. Your head’s somewhere else.”
My jaw worked. “I’m watchin’ her. That’s all.”
“That’s not all,” Devil said quietly. “And I’m not telling you to stop. Lark needs someone like you. She trusts you. But I need you focused right now. Something bad is moving our way.”
I felt that truth settle deep—like footsteps behind me in the dark.
“You think whoever Lark saw was real?”
Devil didn’t answer at first. Then he replied, “I think danger’s looking our way,” he said. “And the woman distracting you might be right in the center of it.”
A deep burn lit in my gut. Danger close. Lark too exposed. And the cult’s not a ghost after all. I nodded once. “I’ll handle it.”
“Good,” Devil said. “Because my gut’s never wrong. And this time, the trouble feels personal.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
THE CLUBHOUSE THUMPEDwith music, bass rollingthrough the floorboards, and for once, the night belonged to me.
Lucy grabbed my wrist before I could even decide what to do with that freedom. “Come on,” she said, dragging me toward the dance floor. Zeynep followed, laughing in soft bursts, and Fiona watched us with an amused shake of her head before stepping in too.
The room pulsed with noise, boots stomping, laughter. Alive. The air smelled like whiskey, heat, and the kind of promise that letting yourself enjoy the moment could make.
I moved without thinking, letting the music loosen each tight place in me. Lucy spun wild, Zeynep swayed shy but smiling, Fiona rolled her eyes but still matched the beat. And me? I laughed—high and real—and the sound felt strange in my own throat, like something I was learning I could do.
Then a shiver crawled up my spine.
Not cold. Aware.
I lifted my gaze and found him.
Chain sat across the room, half in shadow, bottle in hand but forgotten. He wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t talking. His stare was fixed on me alone—unwavering, dark, intent in a way that felt like a touch.
The air thinned. The music faded at the edges. Heat slid over my skin like his eyes were mapping every place he wanted to put his hands. I turned away, but the pull was instant, electric. My body knew he was still watching. Knew the exact direction of him. Knew the way his attention tightened the space between us.
Lucy nudged me. “You keep moving like that, he’s gonna burn holes through the wall.”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not when the heat between us was already tightening like a wire.
I let my hips catch the beat, slow and deliberate. My fingers brushed down my sides. My chin lifted. Every movement felt like a silent dare aimed straight at the man who hadn’t blinked since he noticed me.
Chain leaned back in his chair, jaw working once, then went still—too still.
My pulse kicked.
I should’ve looked away. Instead, I met his stare head-on.
The air snapped.
Something in his expression darkened—not anger, not hunger, something deeper, something claiming. Something that made my breath come shorter and my skin feel too tight.
That was when a shadow slid beside me.
“Didn’t know you could dance like that,” a voice said.
