Chapter 1
Evie
Ididn’t want to be here.
Which was ironic, considering Hellfire Bar was exactly my kind of place—loud, sweaty, full of reckless decisions waiting to be made. Normally, I’d be one of them.
Normally, I’d let the bass thrum through my bones, throw back a shot, and pretend my life wasn’t an absolute train wreck of bad decisions wrapped in sarcasm.
But tonight? It all felt grating.
The neon lights flickered too bright, the music pulsed like an irritating mosquito in my skull, and every drunken laugh around me felt like sandpaper against my nerves. Even my drink was wrong—just water, cold and tasteless, reminding me I was a fraud among the truly unhinged.
I leaned against the sticky bar, sipping my water and forcing a smile. People bumped into me, shouting and laughing, throwing back shots like their livers didn’t exist. I was supposed to be one of them. Evie Emberson—the fun one, the wild one. The one who never cared.
Beside me, my boyfriend—or whatever he was about to be—shifted closer. “You’re quiet tonight.” His voice cut through the music, warm and close enough to send his tequila-laced breathstraight into my ear. “Starting to feel like I’ve got a different girl here with me.”
I plastered on a sarcastic smile. “Sorry to disappoint. Maybe call your ex? I assume she can fake it better than I can.”
He shrugged, a grin twitching like he had a winning comeback. “No need to drag her into this. She at least knew how to have fun.”
Any other night, I might have let his comment get under my skin.
But not tonight.
I took a long sip of my drink, the cool water doing nothing to settle the gnawing restlessness under my skin. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe I wasn’t faking it as well as I thought. My gaze drifted past him to the pool tables in the far corner.
Or maybe I was already too distracted.
He was all sharp edges and quiet menace—six-foot-four of muscle carved lean, broad shoulders filling the doorway. Ink climbed his arms in deliberate patterns, each line thought out, a story written in skin. His dark-blond hair brushed his temple as he bent forward.
Trouble—beautiful, reckless trouble.
Aiden.
He made a shot and stood, unfurling until he towered over the crowd around him, cue in one hand, his other tucked in his pocket. Watching. His blue eyes scanned the room, sharp and predatory, before locking on to mine.
I hated the way he watched me—like he cared. Like he gave a fuck when I knew he didn’t. Not in the way I wanted.
Aiden was my brother’s best friend. Off-limits. Untouchable. The one I couldn’t have, which only made me want him more.
I dragged my attention back to my boyfriend, his voice blending into the noise, something about fantasy football. I didn’t care if a man had a hobby. Build a birdhouse, collect stamps, role-play as a medieval knight—fine. But forcing me to memorize the rules of fantasy-fucking-football? That was where I drew the line. I had my own hobbies—I didn’t need to add his to the list.
My gaze flicked back to Aiden. Only for a second. Through the crowd, I caught a glimpse—he was leaning in, a girl laughing beside him. They’d been playing pool for more than an hour now, and he hadn’t left her side. She flipped her hair and he smirked. The kind that had no right being on his face while he was with someone else.
Heat crept over my skin.
“Evie,” my boyfriend demanded, setting down his drink. “Are you even listening to me?”
I sighed, cocking my head. “No? I’ve told you, I don’t care.”
His eye roll made me more annoyed. “Do you know how rude that is? You should care about your boyfriend’s hobbies. I care about yours.”
“First,” I paused, taking another sip of my drink, “you do not give two fucks about my hobbies. Do you remember the last time I showed you my computer and you wouldn’t stop checking your phone? Or when I Bedazzled the knife handle? You couldn’t have cared less. Second, there’s a difference between respecting your hobbies and being forced to participate.”
“Oh, so it’s a problem if I do it, but Aiden makes you ride around on his damn motorcycle, and that’s fine?”
“Riding on the back of a bike isn’t a hobby. If Aiden drones on about the endless upgrades he does to his bike, I will literally shut his mouth for him. Maybe even with the Bedazzled knife.”
