Chapter 11
Lena
The music is so loud I can feel it in my chest, but it doesn’t drown out the noise in my head.
I shouldn’t have come here.
I knew there was a chance I’d see him. Hell, part of me wanted to see him. But now that I have, I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, and one wrong move, I’ll fall straight into him again.
Declan.
His name pulses through me like a heartbeat.
He’s leaning against the bar like he owns the place, a beer in one hand, the other clenched around the edge of the counter like he's trying to keep himself grounded.
His dark shirt clings to his chest, sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal veins and tension in his forearms. His jaw is tight, lips in a hard line.
And his eyes, those stormy, haunted eyes, are locked on me.
I want to look away. I should look away.
But I can’t.
Something’s off. He’s not just his usual brooding self tonight. He’s wrecked. And then I see it just beneath the low lighting, the way it shadows his face.
A bruise.
Purple and angry along his jawline. There’s a cut on his cheekbone, too. Small, but fresh. His knuckles are red and scraped. My stomach twists.
What the hell happened?
I start moving before I even realize it, weaving through the crowd like I’m in a trance. Every part of me is screaming not to do this, not to get pulled back in. But I don’t care.
He hasn’t taken his eyes off me, and I know he’s watching every step I take.
I stop in front of him, close enough to smell the tequila on his breath and something else underneath, something darker. Metallic. Like blood.
“Declan…” My voice is barely above the music, but he hears me.
His jaw ticks.
“Don’t,” he says, voice rough. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you care.”
I flinch. He sees it. His eyes flick over my face, down to my lips, back to my eyes. There’s heat in them. Pain. Something else I can’t name.
“What happened to your face?” I ask, reaching out instinctively, but he catches my wrist before I can touch him.
The grip isn’t hard, but it’s enough to stop me.
“I’m fine,” he says.
“You don’t look fine.”
He lets go of me, turns slightly, and takes another sip of his beer like the conversation is over. But it’s not. Not for me.
“You got in a fight, didn’t you?” I press, stepping closer. “Was it Jason?”
His eyes flash, and I know I’m right. A flicker of guilt and satisfaction plays across his face. He doesn’t deny it.
“What did you do, Declan?” I whisper.
“What needed to be done, and it wasn’t me.”
I shake my head, my chest tight. “You did something, and besides, I can handle myself.”
He finally looks at me again, and there’s something raw in his expression now. “I know you can. Doesn’t mean I’ll let someone lay a hand on you and get away with it.”
My heart stutters in my chest.
“You can’t keep doing this,” I say, softer now. “You can’t protect me and push me away at the same time.”
He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me like he wants to say a thousand things, and none of them are safe.
I take a shaky breath. “You’re bleeding, Declan.”
“I’ve bled worse.”
“That’s not the point.”
He leans in then, his voice low and dangerous in my ear. “The point is, he touched you. And now he won’t ever touch anyone again.”
I shiver.
Not from fear.
But from the storm he’s always been. The storm I’m still drawn to, no matter how much I fight it.
We stand there, silent for a long beat, surrounded by the thump of the bass and laughter of strangers.
And somehow, I’ve never felt more exposed.
Our eyes are locked, not a single word spoken between us.
But there’s no need for words.
The tension is thick, almost tangible, stretching between us like a live wire. It coils around us, buzzing with everything unsaid, anger, desire, regret. A bubble of heat and intensity that keeps us frozen in place. Neither of us moves. Neither of us can.
His jaw flexes, like he’s fighting something, himself, maybe. And God, I wish I didn’t feel it too. That same war. That same fire.
Then.
“Lee Lee, there you are.”
Pop .
Just like that, the bubble bursts.
Wesley.
Declan’s gaze drops instantly. He brings his beer to his lips, the movement smooth, practiced like he needs the taste of it to swallow down whatever just passed between us. He doesn’t take a step back, but the space between us feels like an abyss now. Cold and empty.
Wesley pulls me into a hug without hesitation, and even though he shattered the moment, a genuine smile tugs at my lips as I wrap my arms around him.
My brother.
I didn’t realize how much I needed this until now. The familiar comfort of my brother.
“Hey, Wesley,” I say, my voice softer than it’s been all night.
He pulls back, gripping my shoulders as he studies my face. His smile is bright and real, but there’s something protective in his eyes, too. Like he’s scanning me, making sure I’m whole. Safe.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” he says, giving me a little shake like he can’t believe I’m actually standing here.
“You invited her?” Declan’s voice cuts through, low and sharp.
I glance at him. His eyes meet mine for the briefest second, and then they’re on Wesley. Detached again.
“Of course,” Wesley replies, grabbing the beer the bartender slides across the counter like it was already waiting for him. “I wanted to make sure she was good for myself.”
He takes a long drink, then his brow dips.
“Why?” he adds, turning toward Declan.
There’s a pause. Tension thickens again, but it’s different now, less electric, more loaded.
Declan opens his mouth, but I beat him to it. “Oh, he had just asked if you knew I was here,” I say, trying to ease the shift. I can feel both of them watching me now, but for very different reasons.
“Yeah,” Declan says, agreeing.
Wesley raises an eyebrow, but shrugs. He turns to me, smirking a little. “Didn’t think you’d actually show.”
I glance at Declan, who runs a hand through his already messy hair. That small, frustrated movement says more than any words could. He’s unraveling, just like I am. We’re both trying to pretend we’re not standing in the middle of a storm.
“Needed to get out of my head,” I say honestly, looking back at Wesley. “Thought I’d dance. Drink. Forget.”
Wesley nods, understanding etched into his features. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Lee.”
“I know.” My voice catches, and I clear my throat.
Declan sets his beer down on the bar a little harder than necessary. The thud makes Wesley glance at him. Declan doesn't flinch under the scrutiny. He just leans on the bar, eyes flicking to the dance floor like he’s already somewhere else.
But I know he’s not.
He’s still here.
Still feeling this.
And so am I.
“I’m gonna hit the dance floor for a bit,” I say suddenly, my feet already moving.
I need to get away before I do something stupid like touch him again. Like, ask him to come with me.
“Be careful,” Wesley says behind me.
But I’m not careful.
Not when I know Declan’s eyes are burning into my back as I walk away.
The bass pulses through my chest, vibrating up my legs as I weave through the crowd. Lights strobe above, casting everything in this almost calming glow. It’s loud, bodies moving in rhythm all around me, and still, I feel him behind me.
I haven’t looked back. I won’t.
But I can feel his eyes on me, like heat licking up my spine.
“Lee!” Jeanne’s arms wrap around me, pulling me into her orbit on the dance floor. Her smile is wide, eyes sparkling like she has already had two too many shots. “I didn’t think you were coming back!”
“Didn’t think I was either.”
She moves effortlessly, all hips and carefree energy, and I follow suit, forcing my body to surrender to the rhythm.
Just dance, I tell myself. Forget everything for a second. Forget him.
But that’s the problem. I can’t.
His face is burned into my mind. The bruises. The cut on his cheek. The tension in his jaw when he saw me. That look in his eyes like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. Or wouldn’t.
Jeanne nudges me, her lips near my ear as she shouts over the music, “You okay? You’ve got that ‘I just saw the devil and I wanted to kiss him’ look again.”
I laugh, a short, breathless sound, but it dies quick. “Something like that.”
Her eyes narrow, playful but probing. “Let me guess. Tall, dark, dangerous, and standing at the bar brooding?”
I glance over my shoulder before I can stop myself.
And there he is.
He hasn’t moved. Still leaning against the bar, nursing that beer like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. He’s watching me, eyes shadowed and unreadable. And yet, it’s all there.
The want.
The guilt.
The storm.
“I should hate him,” I say, more to myself than her.
“But you don’t,” Jeanne says, not missing a beat. “And maybe that’s what pisses you off the most.”
I press my lips together, trying not to admit she’s right.
“He looks like he walked through hell tonight,” she adds softly.
“He did.” My voice is low, bitter. “And he brought some of it with him.”
Jeanne watches me for a moment, then pulls me closer, our hands linked as we sway to the music again.
“You’re allowed to be mad and still want him. You’re allowed to feel both, Lee.”
I nod, throat tight. Because she’s right. I’ve been so tangled up in Declan, what he did, what he didn’t say, what he still makes me feel.
The beat drops, and we dance harder, hips rolling, hands in the air. I let the lights blur my vision, let the bass steal my heartbeat, let the alcohol Jeanne passes to me numb the edges.
But even here, in the center of chaos, surrounded by strangers and strobe lights, my eyes keep finding his.
And I don’t know if I can keep fighting this.
But Jeanne and I keep dancing.
And keep drinking.
I let the alcohol wash over me, let the music fill the space in my chest where my thoughts of Declan live. I pretend those thoughts aren't there. Pretend I’m not consumed by the one man I’ll never truly be free of. The one I’ll forever want, no matter how much he’s hurt me.
The night slips by in neon flashes and bass drops, laughter and warmth buzzing around me like static. When I finally glance toward the bar again, I see them. All the guys from Shattered Souls. Loud, rowdy, familiar. They’re throwing back shots, their laughter echoing even over the music.
All of them, except him.
He hasn’t moved. Still there, still watching me. His eyes haven’t left mine all night, like I’m the only thing anchoring him in the room. And maybe I am.
This isn’t how it usually goes.
When I’m here, he’s always distracted. Talking shit with the guys, tossing back drinks, entertaining the girls who flirt too easily, who press into him like he’s something to claim.
But tonight? It’s different.
He hasn’t smiled once. Hasn’t looked at another woman. He’s looking at me, and it’s setting fire to every nerve ending in my body.
“Lee,” Jeanne says, cutting into my thoughts as she sways toward me, flushed and grinning. “I’m gonna go talk to them.”
My stomach twists. “What?”
She’s already moving in that direction when she points, her meaning clear.
The club. His club.
“Oh no, Jeanne,” I say, reaching for her arm. “You’re drunk. That’s not a good idea.”
She laughs, ignoring my warning. “Come on, live a little.” Her fingers lace with mine and before I can stop her, she’s pulling me through the crowd.
Each step toward them makes my heart pound harder.
I feel him.
His chest rises and falls faster, his jaw tightening the closer we get. He doesn’t say anything, but his entire body is tense, like he’s bracing for impact.
“This is a bad idea,” I murmur.
“Hey boys,” Jeanne calls out, flashing her megawatt smile.
Kadan is the first to turn, his grin wide. “Well, it took you longer than usual to make your presence known.”
Jeanne smirks, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “And I can’t believe no one’s offered me a drink yet. I’m offended.”
They laugh, the conversation easy among them. Jeanne slides into their circle effortlessly, already talking, already charming.
But I stay back.
Declan hasn’t said a word. Hasn’t moved. But he’s watching me like I’m the only thing in the room, like I’ve cracked him wide open just by standing here.
His gaze moves over me, slow and deliberate.
It makes my skin burn.
Then he leans in, just enough that no one else notices. His voice is low, rough, intimate.
“Call an Uber. Have it take you to my place.”
And just like that, he walks away.
No glance back. No hesitation.
He just leaves.
I stand there, stunned, heart hammering in my chest. He didn’t ask. Didn’t beg. Didn’t try to convince me.
He just told me.
And I hate that it works.
Hate that I’m curious enough to pull my phone out with trembling fingers and order the ride.
Before I go, I find Wesley, tugging on his arm gently until he turns to me.
“I’m gonna head home,” I say, careful to keep my voice even. “Don’t worry, I called an Uber. Can you make sure Jeanne gets one too?”
He smiles, pulling me into a hug, warm and solid. “Don’t worry, Lee Lee. I’ll make sure she’s taken care of. Thanks for coming tonight. Let’s do dinner tomorrow, okay?”
“Sounds good.”
And with that, I’m walking away, heels clicking against the floor, heart thudding so loudly it’s all I can hear.
I have no idea what I’m walking into.
But I know exactly who I’m walking toward.