For a moment, I forget the flashing lights, the sweat, the smell—I almost forget the tension of the club entirely.
Then it happens. A hand brushes past me, sliding down the curve of my ass. My breath catches, but before I can react, Elijah’s already there.
He grabs the guy by the shirt and yanks him off balance. The punch comes fast, bone crunching under his fist. Blood spills from the man’s mouth as he collapses onto the floor.
The music doesn’t even stop. The bass keeps pounding, strobe lights flashing. But the crowd knows better.
Elijah doesn’t back off. He looms over the man, chest heaving, ready to go again.
Enzo reappears at his side in seconds, clamping a hand around Elijah’s arm and yanking him back. “Outside,” he barks.
Elijah resists, jaw clenched, but Enzo doesn’t let him choose. He shoves him toward the exit.
Gen stumbles after them, eyes wide, face pale in the neon lights. “What the fuck was that?” she bites out, heels clicking hard against the floor. “Are you insane? You can’t just—” She cuts herself off, throwing her hands up. “Ugh.”
I glance once at the blood streaking the floor, pulse still racing. My stomach knots, a mix of fear, adrenaline, and excitement.
I know I’m a secret, and I know Elijah and Enzo’s priority is keeping my identity unknown, but—I take a deep breath, then push past the crowd to catch up with them.
Is it stupid to like the protection I get for being their secret? To enjoy that I’m someone worth defending?
Outside, the cold air is pinching my skin. Gen rounds on Elijah before the door even closes. “You can’t do that,” she hisses, shoving his shoulder.
“He put his hands on her,” Elijah snaps back, still wound tight.
Enzo hits back. “You think that matters? You think we want a scene right now, this close to the border? You’re going to start something we can’t walk away from.”
Elijah cracks his neck and glares at Enzo. “Then let them come.”
Gen steps in before it gets worse. “There’s another club a block away,” she says quickly, glancing between them. “It’s a mixed group. No one will care about any of whatever you’re worried about.”
Enzo nods once, already moving. We walk down the street to Enzo’s car, the four of us, tension simmering but controlled.
* * *
The car ride is a bit awkward.
Enzo’s mad at Elijah because he was putting us in danger. Gen is mad at Elijah because we had to leave the club she wanted to go to. Elijah is mad at me, judging by the dirty looks he keeps giving back here. And I’m not mad at anyone. Just excited that Elijah seems jealous. Maybe he feels more for me than just a duty to my family.
The second club, Confine, sits right on the edge of Italian territory, practically kissing the Vostralya border. The kind of place Enzo swore we shouldn’t set foot in. Which is exactly why I’m surprised he brought us here.
Pulling up to the tall back building, Enzo pushes ahead—faster this time—his jaw tight, scanning every person at the door. He mutters something about checking the inside, about making sure the crowd isn’t crawling with Russians. Then he disappears through the entrance, leaving Gen and me standing awkwardly with Elijah.
The line of people waiting to get in pushes forward, and I find myself shoulder to shoulder with the guy I’m trying not to want. He doesn’t move. If anything, he leans just close enough that the heat off his body sinks into mine.
Before I can ask what the hell that means, Enzo reappears at the door, waving us forward. “Clear enough. Stay alert.” His eyes cut to Elijah. “Watch them properly.”
“Always do,” Elijah answers, his gaze still on me when he says it.
My stomach flips, and my heart rate quickens. I can’t help how I feel when I have his attention.
The bass inside is heavier than the first club, the kind that shakes the floor beneath your boots. Lights cut through the dark in crisp flashes, shades of purple that make it hard to tell who’s watching.
Gen’s already halfway to the bar, waving down the bartender, owning the place already. Enzo’s gone again, doing his paranoid-scouting thing, which leaves me standing with Elijah.
But being here, I can’t help but be consumed by my father’s warnings, the problems with crowded spaces. The need for control. I need to know how I could protect myself.
“You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.” Elijah grabs my attention, eyes dragging over me in a way that’s not even subtle.
