“What the fuck was that?” he demands, voice low enough to shake the air.
I laugh again.
Slurred.
Dangerous.
Alive.
“You wanted me relaxed, didn’t you?”
His grip tightens on my waist, dragging me closer.
“That’s not relaxed,” he growls. “That’s self-destruction.”
“Well,” I whisper against his cheek, “maybe I’m good at that.”
He flinches.
Barely.
But I see it.
Noah cups the back of my neck, fingers pressing into my skin, not hurting, but controlling.
“We’re leaving,” he says through gritted teeth. “Now.”
“Make me.”
He lifts me.
Literally lifts me—one arm under my thighs, the other at my back—and carries me out of the club while I laugh into hisshoulder and the crowd stares like we’re a storm tearing through the night.
Outside, the cold air hits me like a slap.
Noah shoves me into the car gently but firmly, hands shaking with anger and something darker.
He leans in close, breath hot, voice shaking with restrained fury.
“You’re going to tell me what’s going on. All of it. No more lies.”
I smile up at him, mascara smudged, hair wild, heart still pounding with Kai’s voice in my head like a second pulse.
“I don’t owe you the truth,” I whisper.
The door slams and Noah stalks around the front of the car, shoulders tight, jaw carved out of stone. The street outside the club is still vibrating with music spilling out of its doors—bass thumping through the pavement, laughter rising in sharp bursts, cold night air spinning cigarette smoke into thin silver ribbons.
Everything feels too bright.
Too loud.
Too alive.
I’m slumped in the leather seat, head tipped back, breath warm with alcohol that’s pulsing through my bloodstream like wildfire.
The car door opens.
Noah drops into the driver’s seat with the kind of controlled fury that makes the entire vehicle feel smaller, hotter, more dangerous.
