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I pull in a ragged breath, and with every last ounce of energy I have, I draw on it all as I open my mouth wide and scream Lawson’s name as loud as I can. The noise reverberates through my skull, making my head spin more, but I hope to God it was worth it and that he heard me.

I pull a picture of Lawson’s beautiful face into my mind, focusing on his molten silver gaze as he stares at me like I’m the most beautiful woman in the room. I keep going over every detail of him I can remember, making sure he’s the last thing I see as the darkness takes me.

By the time Harper finishes her third drink, the raw fury coursing through me feels almost uncontainable. I want nothing more than to storm over there, drag her out of here, and spank her so fucking hard for breaking the rules I set for her.

I know I wanted her to grow in confidence, and to find the version of Harper that’s been hidden away her whole life, but now is definitely not the time for this shit.

Each time that shit-stain, Nigel, leans in closer to her, or brushes his arm against hers, I want to slam his face into the bar, before peeling the skin off his bones, so he can’t ever touch her again.

I keep trying to remind myself that this was my plan…that I asked Harper to flirt with him to get the information we need, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it now it’s playing out in front of me.

Every so often, Bram catches my eye from where he’s standing on the opposite side of the room, and his gleeful, mischievous expression does absolutely nothing to ease the anxiety running through me. For some reason, he enjoys seeing me uncomfortable.

I’m so caught up watching Harper, I don’t even notice someone sitting down beside me; not until they nudge my arm with a glass. I look up to find none other than Rafe Kincaid, owner of Vulture’s Den, handing me a glass of whiskey.

“What brings you to my club, Lawson?” he asks, his piercing icy-blue eyes assessing me closely.

I accept the glass he offers me, swirling it around a little before taking a big gulp. The amber liquid burns in the best way as it slides down my throat, heating me as it goes. There’s a sweetness to it that suggests he’s given me the good stuff.

“I’m here for a drink,” I tell him, holding up the glass to emphasise my point.

Kincaid shakes his head, but I can see the amusement in his gaze. “So that’s not Bram standing by the edge of the dance floor, turning down every girl who approaches him—which is really fucking unusual. And over by the bar, that’s not your Prize and her friend talking to a first-year Crow Pledge?

“One might think you’re in the middle of an assignment. But that can’t be right…there’s no way you’re stupid enough to undertake an assignment in my club without me knowing.”

The temperature in the room seems to drop rapidly as Kincaid’s cold, icy-blue eyes bore into mine, the tone of his voice taking on a dangerous edge. It’s suddenly very easy to see why there are so many rumours floating around about him, and how he became the owner of Vulture’s Den, despite being one of the best-ranked Pledges ever.

My lips part and close, a silent struggle as words elude me. I don’t want to piss him off, but that doesn’t mean I can divulge Order secrets. “You know how assignments work. Silence is mandatory.”

Kincaid shakes his head again, but the hard edge to his jaw seems to ease just slightly, and I breathe a sigh of relief that he no longer looks like he’s about to gut me. “I don’t need to know the details, Law, but I expect to be informed if my club is being used for an assignment.”

I let out a huff, knowing he’s not going to drop this. “The Pledge my Prize is currently talking to is under suspicion. We’re gathering evidence.”

His brow furrows as he leans closer. “Under suspicion of what? I’ve seen him here before. In fact, he’s here a lot.”

“We have reason to believe he’s divulging Order secrets to get women into bed. He finds them here, wins them over with lies and bragging statements that relate to the Obsidian Order, and his position as a Crow Pledge. Once we have proof that this is what he’s doing, we can respond,” I explain, trying to keep my voice steady despite how angry I am that a fucking Pledge would risk the security of our Order, just because he has no other way of getting laid.

Kincaid looks even angrier than he did before, his hands curling into fists as he glares across the room at Nigel. “He’s been using my club to pick up women by disclosing our secrets?” he clarifies through gritted teeth.

I give him a small nod. “We’re almost certain. Harper and her friend, Wren, are with him now, seeing if he talks to them. We just need confirmation.”

As the words leave my lips, my eyes dart over to Harper, who is standing alone with Nigel. A jolt of adrenaline shoots through me, my heart thudding against my ribs. I scan the packed club, the air thick with a haze of smoke, searching for Wren, all whilst trying not to let my anxiety get the better of me.

I spot the feisty girl heading towards Bram, and a wave of relief washes over me as I locate her. Though I’m still pissed she left Harper by herself with Nigel.

Just as I’m turning to look for Harper again, all hell breaks loose around me. The group of guys standing next to my table start pushing and shoving at each other, and in the blink of an eye, an all-out brawl erupts. Several of the drunken men topple onto my table, sending everything flying as they throw punches at each other.

Both me and Kincaid spring to our feet, pushing away from the table just as it tips over under the weight of the brawling men. Kincaid is absolutely furious as he reaches into the swarm of men and begins lifting them off each other one at a time, as if they weigh nothing.

The first one he grabs turns to swing at him, but he quickly regrets it when Kincaid knocks him out with one swift punch to the face. He tosses his limp body to the side as he pulls out his phone and starts barking orders into it.

Within seconds, security guards are on top of us, pulling the men apart as they try to regain control of the situation. I’m covered in fucking booze, and my hands are twitching with the urge to hit at least one of these arseholes, but I know better than to get involved while Kincaid is standing right beside me.

I can just about make out his loud, booming voice over the pounding music as he yells instructions at his security staff. “Get these fuckers out of here, and take their pictures. Make it clear they’re banned for a month. In fact, I’m banning the wanker on the floor who swung at me for life. Understood?”

His security staff just nod as they work on getting the suddenly very apologetic men out of the club. Some are trying to stay behind, arguing that they weren’t really involved, that they were just caught up in the chaos. But Kincaid isn’t having any of it, and he dismisses them with a mere wave of his hand.

His stern expression is enough that nobody challenges him further, and even I take a small step back when his eyes blaze as he takes in the surrounding carnage. He steps over to me, putting me even more on edge, but I hold firm, not letting my body give away any of what I’m feeling.