Maverick returns just in time to intercept Cami’s path, his expression sharpening on Cami for a heartbeat before smoothing again. Violet senses it immediately and narrows her eyes—she’s too observant.
“And what exactly are you getting her into?” he asks, voice lazy, but there’s an edge beneath it. Something almost territorial.
Cami smirks. “Relax, Mav. I’m having fun. You should try it before you die of being boring.”
The tension between them hums. Challenge threaded with something darker—playful, dangerous.Interesting.
But then Cami drags Violet toward a cluster of men outside the VIP section.
Her first mistake.
“Gentlemen,” she purrs. “This is my friend. She’s new.”
One man turns, eyes sharpening with interest the way a predator assesses an opening. Older. Polished. Power hanging on him like tailored silk.
I recognize him immediately.Emilio Santoro.A member of The Order.
Violet has no idea who he is. She hasn’t quite grasped the game she just walked into.
And Cami, in her drunken unaware state, doesn’t realize that she just pushed her friend into dangerous territory.
Emilio smiles, his eyes lingering on Violet’s face before sliding lower. “Pleasure,” he murmurs, extending a hand. “We don’t get a lot of fresh faces at these things.”
Violet hesitates before shaking his hand, she is polite but wary. "I’m just… observing."
His smile widens. “The first step toward—”
I move in before the words finish leaving his mouth.
“Careful, Emilio.” My voice is quiet. Cold. “We wouldn’t want to overwhelm her.”
The second Violet hears my voice, her head swivels toward mine, her features impossible to read. But there’s a flash of something—relief? Annoyance?Maybe both.
Emilio chuckles, but his eyes flicker with calculation. “Of course.”
I don’t have to raise my voice. I only look. A shift in expression. A flicker of displeasure.
Enough.
The men around him tense. Conversations die mid-breath. They back away in perfectly choreographed fear. Emilio holds my gaze a second longer—then steps back.
Good boy.
This is my world.
And everyone here remembers why.
Maverick slips in, wraps an arm around Cami’s waist, and murmurs something dark against her ear. She pouts, then lets him pull her away, tossing Violet a final mischievous look before disappearing.
Leaving the two of us alone.
I face her fully, letting silence settle over us like a velvet curtain.
“Now,” I say, voice low. “Where were we?”
There it is—that spark she carries in her eyes. Sharp. Curious. A little heated.
“See anything you like?” I murmur.
