Elijah scanned the club, every instinct on high alert. The Black Vipers had sent him here for a simple deal, but things had gone sideways the moment he spotted the Crimson Brawlers lounging in the crowd. The dim lighting cast long shadows across their tattooed arms as they sipped their drinks, their presence like a storm cloud gathering in the corner of the room. They weren't supposed to be here, not on a night like this.

Without backup and in enemy territory, he couldn't afford to be seen. The thumping bass of the music vibrated through his chest as he ducked his head, his leather jacket brushing against the shoulders of dancing strangers. His eyes darted through the crowd, searching for a way out—until they landed on her. Of all people.

She was out with her friends near the bar, her laughter cutting through the noise like a knife. The colorful lights played across her face as she tilted her head back, completely unaware of the mess he was in. Elijah cursed under his breath, feeling his irritation flare like a match struck in dry grass. He hated how his pulse quickened when he saw her, hated that she always managed to stir something in him he couldn't quite shake. But tonight, he didn't have time for this.