Mark’s face goes red, jaw tightening, pride bruised and bleeding out in real time. His eyes flick between us, pissed now, humiliated, desperate to grab back some control.
He steps forward and reaches for her arm.
That’s fucking it.
I move the second he does, but Kade’s already there. His hand clamps down on Mark’s arm, iron-hard, shoving him back a step before he can even process what he’s done.
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. This is where you walk away,” Kade says flatly.
Mark jerks against the hold. “Get the fuck off me?—”
“Walk. Away,” Kade repeats, voice calm in that way that means this is the last warning he’s ever going to get.
Aeri just laughs.
Not nervous. Not forced. A short, smug little sound like Mark just said the dumbest thing imaginable.
“You should listen, Mark,” she says coolly, eyes dragging over him like he’s already beneath notice. “They’re not the kind of guys you want to mouth off to, and you lost the right to touch me the second you stuck your micro dick in half the city.”
That one lands.
She tilts her head, smiling like she’s enjoying how badly it hits. “You don’t get to act territorial now. That ship didn’t just sail—it sank, burned, and took your dignity with it.”
Mark opens his mouth, scrambling for something to say, but she steamrolls right over him.
“And honestly?” she adds, rolling her eyes. “You’re killing my fucking high.”
She flicks a glance at me, amused, then at Kade, then back to Mark like he’s already a waste of oxygen.
“Congrats,” she laughs. “You managed to make me regret you and disappoint me retroactively.” Her eyes rake over him. “Hmm. Didn’t think that was possible, but here we are.”
Then she laughs again, turns on her heel, and disappears back into the crowd like this was just a pit stop. The red of her outfit flashes once before she melts into the music, already moving, already dancing like nothing touched her.
I watch her go, pulse still buzzing, smirking behind the mask.
God. She’s a goddamn menace, and my cock fucking loves it.
Mark’s still standing there, stunned, ego bleeding out in real time.
I don’t even look at him.
My eyes are already tracking red through the chaos to the dance floor.
Because I know she’s not done, and neither am I.
4
KADE
This night should’ve been over already.
That’s my fucking problem.
It should’ve ended the way the good ones do—clean, fast, and quiet. No noise. No scene. We should’ve already been back on our fucking bikes, headed back to the house, getting ready to spend another day blending into society like we actually belong there. Like we don’t spend our nights hunting and killing girls who grab our attention.
It should've been easy.
I like the easy kills.
