Chapter Six

Danielle POV

I swear I can feel eyes on me, even if no one’s actually staring. Maybe it’s just in my head, or maybe not. I did cause a scene at the gate, after all. Stormed up like I had something to prove, like I had a right to be here in this strange place that smells like smoke, leather, and something dangerously alive beneath the surface.

Truth is, I wasn’t thinking. I was pissed. At Sam, at his smug tone, at the way he dismissed me like I was nothing but dead weight he’d been dragging for too long. He said I wouldn’t leave the house. He bet on me staying in, too scared to move.

Well, here I am.

That defiant little spark is still burning low in my chest, but it’s not nearly enough to drown out the anxiety creeping in behind it.

“So,” Knox says from beside me, his voice rough but not unkind. “What’re you looking for tonight?”

I shrug, shoulders tight. “Honestly? Just being out… that’s the point. I needed to show him he was wrong.”

Across the bar, Hex hears me, of course she does, and she throws her voice loud enough to make sure half the damn room hears it too.

“She wants a good fuck!” she shouts, laughing as she lifts her glass.

I groan and duck my head, cheeks burning hot enough to light a damn fire. “I did not say that,” I mutter, trying to vanish into the seat.

“You didn’t have to, honey,” she says with a grin that’s far too knowing. “Your man’s out doing God knows what with someone else. You’re here dressed to kill. You don’t want to go home empty-handed. You want to walk back in, throw those heels on the floor, and let him know you got yours too.”

“Oh my god,” I whisper, barely able to look up.

Hex leans in, eyes dancing with mischief. “I mean, I’ve never ridden Knox, but from what I hear? He hits every spot and then some.”

I nearly choke on my drink. My face is so hot I wouldn’t be surprised if my eyebrows singe off. If embarrassment could kill, I’d be six feet under already, buried in this stupid red dress and my own humiliation.

From the other side of the room, a voice calls out, gruff, sharp, and commanding.

“Knox! Need you.”

It’s Echo. And the way Knox responds, just a casual wink tossed my way like a match onto gasoline, makes it so much worse.

“Be good,” he says as he turns and walks off, slow and steady like nothing rattles him. Of course it doesn’t. He probably deals with louder women and messier problems every day. I’m just a small ripple in a much bigger pool.

Hex waves after him and calls out, “It’s cool, Knox! I’ll keep her busy. Might even get Blaze to dance for her, help her loosen up.”

I blink. “Dance?” I laugh under my breath. “I can’t picture any of these guys dancing. Not unless it involves throwing someone through a table.”

Hex chuckles and slides her drink toward me. “You’d be surprised. Blaze often strips. Pretty sure he can still move when he wants to, but we don't see it.”

I shake my head, still laughing softly, but my eyes drift back to Knox before I can stop them.

He’s talking to Echo now, posture relaxed but alert. There’s something about the way he carries himself, like he’s always halfway to a fight, but too damn confident to think he’ll lose.

His arms are inked from wrist to bicep, thick and corded with muscle that speaks of hard labor, not gym mirrors. He’s got that rough kind of handsome, the kind that doesn’t fade when the lights come on.

I let myself watch him for a second too long. The way his jeans hang low on his hips, how his shirt pulls across his back as he leans slightly forward, how even standing still he feels like a loaded gun with the safety off.

What the hell am I doing here?

Because the answer’s becoming clearer with every beat of the heavy music, with every sip of sweet alcohol warming my chest.

I didn’t just come here to prove something to Sam. I came to remember what it feels like to want, and be wanted back.

I don’t know how long I watch him, but it’s too long. Long enough that when he turns, when his eyes catch mine from across the room like he already knew I’d be looking, my stomach flips so hard I nearly double over.

I drop my gaze fast, heart thudding. Jesus. What am I doing?

“I should probably go soon,” I mutter, more to myself than to Hex, but she hears it.

Her eyes cut to me, sharp but not unkind. “You’re not going anywhere, not yet. You’ve barely started to thaw.”

“I didn’t come here for—” I stop, biting my lip. “I don’t even know what I came here for.”

She just smirks, like she knows I’m lying. And maybe I am. Because that burn in my chest? That aching, awful thing that drove me out tonight, it isn’t satisfied. Not yet. But I don’t know if that means I should stay, or if I should run before I do something I can’t take back.

Then I hear the boots. Heavy steps and measured. I don’t need to look to know who it is. My spine straightens on instinct.

Knox, he’s back.

Before I can even brace myself, he’s beside me again, his presence big enough to eclipse everything else.

“All done talking,” he says simply.

I blink up at him, confused for a half-second, until I see the intent written across his face.

“Wait, done talking with—”

I don’t get to finish.

He scoops me up like I weigh nothing. One strong arm under my legs, the other curling around my back. My breath whooshes out in a startled gasp as my bag falls from my shoulder and hits the floor behind me.

“Knox!” I squeak, grabbing onto him automatically, more out of panic than anything else. “Put me down, I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he says without slowing, his voice deep and calm, like this is the most ordinary thing in the world. “And I’m seriously not listening.”

He moves through the bar like he owns every floorboard and brick, and maybe he does. The crowd parts around us with a mix of curiosity and knowing glances, but no one stops him. No one dares.

My heart is beating so fast I feel dizzy.

This isn’t happening... no this is happening.