8. Chapter 8 #2
I go to drop him, my shoulder tensing to drive him into the wall, but my phone vibrates in my pocket. The sudden, frantic buzz against my thigh is a jarring reminder of a world that has no business being in this corridor, and in that split second when my focus wanes, Morrow gets the upper hand.
He lunges at me with the heavy force of a man who’s never been told no, swinging the heavy crystal tumbler he’s been clutching like a weapon.
The glass shatters against the side of my head before I can even register the swing.
It’s a cold, sharp explosion of agony. The jagged rim of the crystal tears through the cartilage of my ear and down the line of my jaw in one swift, wet motion.
The sound it makes is a sickening, internal crunch that vibrates through my skull.
The heat hits my neck a second later—a hot, heavy pulse of crimson that immediately soaks into the fabric off my black shirt.
Fury fuels my movements as I seize Morrow by his thick throat and slam him into the brass lift doors with enough force to make the metal groan.
I squeeze, watching his eyes bulge, watching the wealthy, untouchable mask shatter into pure, pathetic terror as my blood drips onto his expensive lapel.
I want to rip the life out of him for thinking he could touch anything in this club.
I want to crush him for being just one more thing I can’t control tonight.
Who the fuck does this prick think he is to come into Maddox's club and start shit?
"Rylen! Stop!" Nathyn shouts, his hands pulling at my shoulders, his voice sounding like it's coming from underwater. "Colson’s got him. Drop him, Ry. He’s done."
I reluctantly let go, watching Morrow slump to the floor in a heap of charcoal wool and gasping breaths.
I reach up, my fingers grazing the side of my head, and they come back drenched, the blood hot and rhythmic as it pours down my skin.
I am the deterrent. I am the reason people fear this place.
And I just let a piece of shit like Arthur Morrow mark me because I couldn't keep my head in the game.
"Are you all blind, you worthless fucks?" I grind out. My voice is low, strained, and dangerously quiet—the kind that makes all of the men flinch. "You let a client slip into my club like a goddamn cockroach?"
I stop directly in front of Nathyn, who atleast has the decency to look remorseful, his face pale beneath the bruise from where he's clearly taken a hit during the scuffle.
"Rylen, I swear, the area was clean when we did the initial sweep. Must have been hiding or—"
"I don't care what fucking excuse you have," I roar, throwing my hands up and starting to pace again, I rub the aching side of my head along my temple.
"Your job is to make sure every entry point is an absolute dead end for anyone without a clearance.
I don't station a man at that door because I trusted this team to be the eyes of this building, yet someone in this room took a check to look the other way while a ghost looped the feeds and walked right into my blind spot.
And look at this shit!" I rip my hand away from my ear, holding up my bloodied palm.
"He was able to get close enough to cut me up.
Do you know what that looks like? It looks weak.
" I stop pacing and slam my fist into the nearby concrete wall, ignoring the resulting sting.
An all consuming rage courses through my veins at a sickening rate, my entire nervous system is vibrating, and spots begin to dance over my vision.
Fuck, no—not now, I can't be blacking out.
I haven't, not since— I shake the memory away before it can take hold, and turn back to face the men.
"It looks like you're all getting sloppy.
It looks like you're soft. Like I'm fucking soft!
" My breathing hitches, coming out fast and shallow.
"You make the club look weak. And if the club looks weak, Maddox looks weak, and that is unacceptable.
" My words faltering at the end. Even the thought of Maddox being in danger because of these dipshit's selfish actions have me wanting to tear them limb from limb.
I lean in close to Philzy, my teeth gritted, but he refuses to meet my gaze.
" We are the barrier. W e are the deterrent.
We are the reason every piece of shit in this city knows to behave at Velvet, or they get flattened.
And if one arrogant piece of shit has the nerve to fight back, it means you haven't been doing your goddamn job," I state, motioning toward the rest of the team, my voice dripping with venom.
"Clean up this mess. Every single one of you is doubling up on search duty for the next month.
And if I see so much as a cigarette lighter get past you, you're out on your ass.
" I turn away before anyone can answer, storming out of the office with the dull, throbbing ache in my ear beating like a promise of far worse things to come.
I hear the men sniping at each other before the door swings closed behind me.
"You know he's talking 'bout you right? You look like the type to forget to lock a door," Colson chides, his voice heavy with judgement.
"Oh fuck off dickface, atleast I don't look like the type to say I’m not looking for anything serious while still inside a girl," Philzy's voice snaps back, followed by the muffled sound of Nathyn's laughter.
Fucking unserious wankers. They don’t get it. They don’t see the way the foundation is cracking. Things are tense at the club. The floor is thinner than it was last month, the high-rollers are staying away, and the rumors about the safety of our patrons are starting to circulate like a virus.
One of my staff betrayed Maddox, and when I find out which one it was, they won’t ever have the privilege of breathing his air again.
I pull up to Maddox’s office just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation.
It’s that guy from the club—the one who spends each night following Felicia around like a lovesick puppy.
He’s leaning over the desk, practically pleading, but Maddox is wearing that look that says he isn't entertaining a single word of it.
The guy sighs when he hears me come in, realizing he’s hit a brick wall. He starts backing toward the door, giving Maddox one last earnest look. “The offer doesn’t expire,” he says, sounding way too sincere for this room. “So just—think about it.”
I watch him disappear down the hall before I turn to Maddox. “What was that about?”
Maddox doesn't bother to look up when he hears my voice, just shuffles some papers around before tucking them into the top draw of his desk with more force than seems necessary. His jaw set in that stubborn, prideful line I’ve seen a thousand times.
He brushes the encounter off with a flick of his wrist. “Nothing important. Just a rich kid who thinks he can throw money around and get his way.”
I want to laugh because since when does Maddox Bakker turn down money?
—but the tension from earlier is still clawing at my throat, and I have a much bigger disaster to drop in his lap.
“Maddox,” I start, my voice hard enough to finally make him look at me.
“We have a problem. We need to hire more security detail. Someone tampered with the feeds.”
Maddox starts to say something about the breach, but the words die the second his eyes lock onto the side of my head.
He watches the blood spill down my neck, a slow, dark trail soaking into my collar, and his entire vibe shifts.
The air in the room turns heavy, charged with a sudden, violent heat.
"Who the fuck did that?" he demands. His voice grips out of his chest in the form of a low, dangerous growl.
Before I can even blink, he strides across the space between us and his hand hooks around my chin, fingers digging in deep as he forces my head to the side.
He’s right in my face, breath hitting my skin as he assesses the damage to my ear and jawline, his eyes darken with a fury that makes my pulse spike.
"It’s no big deal," I manage to say, my voice sounding breathy even to my own ears. I try to pull back, try to redirect him. "Maddox, the feeds—"
"I don't give a shit about the feeds right now," he snaps, his thumb pressing firmly against my chin to keep me still. He lets go of my face just long enough to turn on his heel and riffle through his desk drawers with frantic desperation. He’s tossing aside papers and pens until he finds a medical kit and yanks it out, the plastic case hits the desk with a heavy thud.
Before I can even think about what he’s doing, he’s back on me, his hands landing on my shoulders and shoving me until my ass hits the seat of his leather office chair.
"Sit," he commands, his voice vibrating with a quiet fury.
I relinquish control of the situation, knowing that even if I fought it, Maddox would still get his way in the end.
He steps deep into my space, his thighs brushing against my knees as he leans over me, trapping me against the back of the chair.
Maddox dips his head, his blonde locks brushing against my nose.
He smells of tobacco and aftershave, and I fucking hate that it's my favorite scent; one that makes my head swim even more than the blood loss. His hands are steady, his touch borderline possessive as he cleans the wound and begins to suture the skin. I’m pinned under him, trapped by his proximity and the focused intensity in his gaze as he stitches me back together.
When he finally pulls away, a cold chill prickles the skin where his warm touch lingers.
I almost miss the heat, but it’s quickly replaced by a slow, heavy burn building low in my gut at the sight of Maddox smiling as he takes in his handiwork.
It’s a full-mouthed smile, one that shows off those boyish dimples I rarely get to see anymore, and my heart does a slow, painful roll in my chest. Fuck me, I’m so completely gone for him .
The air between us is thick with a tension so heavy I’d swear the room was burning. It’s stifling, and with him standing this close, his breath on my mouth makes it impossible to think. My soul yearns to snag his bottom lip between my teeth and never let go.
“I want to kiss you,” I whisper, the words slip out so softly that I'm half convinced they might have stayed inside my head .
“What?" Maddox’s startled voice cracks through the haze like a gunshot, snapping me back to reality. In a panic, I seize his forearms—gripping the hard, protruding veins beneath his skin as I shove him back, putting distance between us before I lose my mind completely.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, I pull it out to see Bry's name lighting up over multiple messages. Shit, the date—with everything that went down tonight it was the furthest thing from my mind. I look from the screen back to Maddox, who’s still standing there with his hands half-raised, and the guilt starts to settle in like cement bricks dragging me to the ocean floor, snapping the tether between us.
I can’t be here. I can’t look at those dimples or feel that heat while my real life is blowing up in my hand. This tension between us is a fantasy; Bry is what’s real, not this.
"I have to go," I blurt out, my voice sounding ragged and completely wrong.
I don’t wait for an answer, scrambling out of the chair, my boots tangling as I pivot around him. I’m halfway to the door before Maddox can find his voice, the silence of the room finally shattering. "Wait—Ry!"
Except I don't stop. I can't. I’m already halfway to freedom, my boots echoing against the floor as I move toward the exit.
"What did you say?" Maddox yells out, his voice sounding genuinely confused, like he’s still standing there trying to piece the last thirty seconds together. "What just happened? Rylen, wait!"
I shove through the heavy doors, race down the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time until I’m pushing through the front door of Velvet. The cool night air hits my face, stinging the fresh stitches at my ear. I don't look back to see if I’m being followed.
If I look back, I’m never leaving—and right now, I have to find a way to be the man Bry expects me to be.