Chapter 4

Over the next few months, David and Brielle became inseparable.

Their names were spoken in pairs—David and Brielle. Brielle and David. Like they’d always belonged to each other. When they weren’t together, they were texting, calling, orbiting each other in a kind of gravitational pull that neither seemed able—or willing—to break.

Talia was thrilled. Now fully in her own little bubble with the soft-spoken artist Owen, she was just happy to see Brielle smile again. Even Xander, their wild-card friend, had finally stopped pining after Brielle and started seeing someone new.

Allegedly.

Still, David couldn’t stand the way Xander Williams hovered near Brielle. Said it was brotherly. Friendly. Harmless. But David had known men like Xander his whole life. Hell, he’d been men like Xander—always lurking, always waiting for the moment a girl like Brielle got vulnerable.

And tonight, they were all going to Blackout together—David, Brielle, Talia, Owen… and Xander, who insisted they meet his new girlfriend.

David’s arm draped lazily, possessively over Brielle’s shoulders as they lounged at a back table. Talia was already in Owen’s lap, murmuring into his ear as he ran his fingers absentmindedly through her hair. The bass throbbed beneath their feet. The room pulsed with red and violet light.

Then the door opened—and in walked Xander, cocky as ever, hand-in-hand with a girl in heels and red lipstick.

David sat up straighter. He knew that walk.

No.

“Hey, guys,” Xander grinned. “This is Celia.”

David’s spine locked.

Celia.

She saw him immediately. Her smile faltered—but only for a split second. Her eyes flicked to his, and in that moment, he made himself perfectly clear:

Not. One. Fucking. Word.

Celia’s smile sharpened into something hollow. Defensive. Polished. “Hi,” she said brightly, her voice too high, too sweet. “Nice to meet you all.”

Xander launched into introductions like nothing was wrong. “This is Talia and her boyfriend Owen. That’s Brielle. And her boyfriend, David.”

Celia’s eyes darted to Brielle, then back. A flicker of something crossed her face—pity? Jealousy? It was gone too fast to pin down.

“Nice to meet you,” she said again. Then to Xander, too quickly, “Let’s dance.”

David didn’t exhale until they were gone. He tracked her like a sniper, every movement on that dance floor burned into his vision. She hadn’t changed. She still danced like she didn’t care who was watching. Like she wanted them to watch.

She stayed longer than everyone else. Her stamina hadn’t changed either.

Xander eventually wandered off with Owen to show him his new sound system, disappearing out the back door. Celia made a beeline for the restrooms—alone.

David saw his opening.

“I’m grabbing drinks,” he said suddenly, already on his feet.

Brielle smiled up at him, eyes glowing. “Cherry Coke, please.”

He nodded once, didn’t wait for Talia’s answer, and slipped through the crowd like a shadow. Around the edge. Past the DJ booth. Down the back hallway where the music faded and the air went still.

Celia stepped out of the restroom just as he arrived.

Her body jolted.

“David—”

He grabbed her and shoved her back against the wall. From afar, they looked like lovers. Up close, her fear made it clear they weren’t.

His hand locked around her throat—not tight enough to choke, just enough to remind her who he was.

“Hello, Celia,” he said, voice silken and cold.

“Please,” she whispered. “Just leave me alone.”

His fingers pressed harder. “Say one word about our past, and I swear, no one will recognize you when I’m done.”

She froze. Tears welled—but didn’t fall. Not yet.

“I won’t,” she whispered. “I swear. Just... don’t hurt her. She seems sweet. Not like me.”

David’s jaw ticked.

“Exactly. She’s not like you.”

He leaned closer, lips grazing the shell of her ear. “She’s mine. And you will not fuck that up.”

Celia’s voice cracked. “You broke me.”

His expression stayed neutral. “You were already broken. I just stopped pretending otherwise.”

He let go, smoothing the front of her blouse like nothing had happened. “Enjoy the night,” he said, stepping back, composed, terrifying.

Celia sagged against the wall, breath ragged. She knew better than to cry. Knew better than to run.

She knew what happened when you ran from a monster like David.

By the time he returned to the table, David was all charm again—cool and polished, three cherry Cokes in hand. Brielle was giggling with Talia, her head tipped back, light dancing in her eyes. She took her drink with a soft “thank you,” her fingers brushing his.

Xander and Owen returned a moment later, mid-laugh.

“Where’s Celia?” Xander asked.

“She went to the bathroom,” Brielle offered.

“I’ll check on her,” Brielle said, already standing before David could object.

His fingers tightened around the glass. He almost told her no. Almost reached out and stopped her. But no.

He’d made himself very clear.

Celia wouldn’t dare.

…Would she?