Page 32 of Declan

Lena.

Her name slams into my brain before I even process the rest. Her eyes lock with mine from across the floor, and it’s like everything around us drops away, the noise, the light, the sound, all gone in a heartbeat.

My body tenses, every nerve snapping to attention.

Anger.

Confusion.

Need.

Her jeans are tight enough to make my mouth dry, hugging her curves like a second skin. The top she’s wearing dips low enough to tease a glimpse of cleavage, just enough skin showing to wreck my already frayed self-control.

She looks like sin wrapped in silk. Like trouble in heels.

Like mine.

I grip the edge of the bar hard enough to make my knuckles crack. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like this, not after what I just walked out of. Not when every time I look at her, I see the war between what I want and what I shouldn’t have.

But fuck…

I don’t know how I’m going to handle it tonight.

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 tensionin 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.

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