Ispot him the second he walks in.
There’s no need for a second glance or any other confirmation. Some rot announces itself the moment it enters a room.
Daniel.
He brings in the same stench of desperation, masking it as smug composure, but he can’t hide his predatory posture. That belief is still there, the one that says the world owes him access to Eris.
He doesn’t see me.
Most people don’t.
I’m anchored at the bar, almost completely swallowed by shadows and blocked by the mass of patrons ordering fancycocktails on the side of the dance floor. This isn’t the type of vibe I pictured when Roo said she owns a bar, but seeing her and Eris inside is all I need to make it make sense.
They just fit here, seen but left alone.
Until the dipshit gets to them.
My bottle of beer sits untouched because this isn’t about appetite or drink preference.
It’s about timing.
Eris is laughing when Daniel reaches the bar and orders expensive bourbon. It’s that candid laugh she gives Roo when the world isn’t clawing at her throat, the one that draws in a crowd of people too scared to speak to her. Glitter dusts her eyelids, leaving glistening specks on her cheeks.
For one unguarded second, I forget everything except the way the corners of her eyes lift when she smiles.
Then he looks at her with delusional conviction, as if she’ll still be his if he just reaches for her.
And I feel hell light fire to my veins.
Daniel starts moving.
So do we.
Across the room, Jace peels off the wall near the DJ booth, squaring his shoulders in a way that makes him look nearly double his size. He shows no hesitation as he positions himself between Eris and the flow of bodies, as if he’s done this a thousand times.
Kieran moves from above, down the stairs two at a time. He’s already mapping exits and calculating camera angles as he meets Jace in the crowd.
I stay where I am.
Because I don’t rush violence.
I let it come to me.
My hand slides into my jacket, fingers curling around the switchblade I absolutely should not have brought. The weight ofit settles something in my chest, familiar and comforting. I pull away from it and white-knuckle my beer bottle instead.
Daniel is maybe twelve steps away from Eris now, close enough to speak and attempt touch.
Close enough to die.
I don’t need to hear what he says to know it’s wrong. Eris straightens as if an electric fence has zapped her. Roo’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits, one hand dipping into her clutch like she’s deciding between blades.
Daniel reaches out.
Eris smacks his hand away.
I move.
The crowd parts without understanding why, bodies shifting instinctively away from the malevolent certainty rolling off me. Self-preservation recognizes violence. Even drunk strangers feel it.
