13. Luke

It is takingeverything I have not to keep looking at Victoria. She is practically naked, and after our little dalliance earlier, I’m dying over here.

But I have to keep it together. Cian’s eyes are on me, I can feel it—I know it. My loyalty to him is unrelenting. But fuck, this woman is a test I didn’t expect.

The booze burns down my throat like liquid fire, but right now, I need it. The base of the music matches the pounding in my head, and for a moment, everything else fades away. Victoria comes over after our third round, leaving a panting trail of low-class assholes in her wake. Her skin is flushed from dancing, and her eyes are wild with that same darkness Cian harbours. It’s like they were made to churn up chaos together, dangerous and beautiful.

She laughs at something Gianluca says, leaning in closer than necessary. My hands clench into fists. She’s doing it on purpose—the little glances she throws my way are a fucking tease.

We get another round, move through the club, and end up at a booth in the corner with four not-small men crammed into it.

“Get out,” Cian states.

“Fuck you, mate,” one of the growls, already drawing his weapon, a wicked-looking blade, but I’ve seen ones ten times more evil. Cian owns one of them, and so do I. Whatever the fuck we’re doing here, rumbling is part of it. I get it. Cian has been shoved into a position of power, and, at the moment, he probably feels like he’s in over his head. But he doesn’t remember he was born and bred for this. It’s his, and he will kick ass when he gets his shit together.

The guy with the blade barely has time to register the mistake he’s made. Cian’s on him like a fucking animal, all fists and fury. There’s a brutal beauty in the violence, the kind that gets your blood pumping and your heart racing.

I grab another by the collar and throw him out of the booth with a thud that echoes over the music. “He said, get out,” I say to the other two, who move without protest.

Cian slides into the booth first, carefully placing Victoria’s bat down. I follow, facing the crowd as Victoria smirks and downs her shot before heading back to be… bait, I think.

“Talk to me about the second box,” Cian demands.

“Not as gross. More elegance this time. Blood-spattered white rose with a note that read: A gift for Beauty from the Beast.”

He glares at me with a sneer. “Who the fuck does this cunt think he is?”

“Didn’t get to see. He was covered head to toe with a mask in place, but the way he moves, definitely not some average joe. He can fight.”

“He won’t be moving anything once I’m through with him,” Cian growls and downs his shot. That’s four, and he’s buzzing.

“What are we doing here?” G asks, his eyes on Victoria. “She looks like bait.”

“She is,” Cian says, sitting back and watching his woman as these fuckers crawl all over her.

The edge to Cian’s voice is like a loaded gun, heavy and dangerous. He is pissed Victoria is a willing lure in this fucked-up game of cat and mouse. But she knows what she’s doing; it’s part of why he loves the shit out of her—her fearlessness.

He watches her dance, watches the men who circle her like sharks drawn to blood. She’s untouchable, though. Not because they can’t reach her but because she’s fucking lethal. She’s BlackBriar’s Queen through and through, and even here, in this cesspit of humanity, she rules.

“Need to blow off some steam,” Cian states, turning to me. “My girl’s idea.” His eyes bore into mine as if he is trying to read my soul.

I remain as casual as I can, giving him a simple nod but not backing away from those impenetrable eyes.

The booth makes sense now. It gives us a strategic advantage point, perfect for what Cian has in mind. He doesn’t want just any kind of retribution; he wants something that’ll shake up our enemies to their core—something that screams Gannon and spills as much blood as possible.

“When do we move?” I ask as G turns in his seat to look back at Victoria.

A man makes the mistake of grabbing Victoria’s ass. I half rise, ready to rumble, but Cian grips my arms and shakes his head. “Not yet.”

My stare is fixed on Victoria, on the way her jaw clenches. She hated it when I grabbed her arm, so this is a violation of everything that burns inside her dark soul. But she doesn’t strike back. She’s drawing them in, giving Cian the perfect excuse to kick their fucking heads in, and when he does, it’s going to be a blood bath.

“She fucking loves you,” I murmur, sitting back down. “You’re fucking lucky to have a woman like her.”

He slowly draws his gaze away from her to me, and I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. “She is my pitch-Black Beauty.”

I nod, unable to disagree even a little bit. Hot and vicious blood pulses under my skin. Cian’s words cut through the noise of the club—a promise as dark as it is sincere. Victoria is a force to be reckoned with, and now I’m caught in the gravitational pull of their warped universe.

We sit in silence for a moment, watching the scene play out in front of us. It’s like watching a live wire spark—mesmerising and lethal. The man who touched her is still close, ignorant of the fact that he’s just signed his own death warrant.

“He’s inviting trouble,” Gianluca mutters, his eyes darting around the club, ever watchful.

I smirk. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“Too fucking right,” Cian agrees, finally letting go of my arm. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he knows what happened earlier. But Victoria wouldn’t have told him, so he can’t. This is a game for her. It is a power play where she has all the control, and she knows it. She isn’t about to give that up for anything.

Then she looks back at us—the briefest flicker and everything falls into sharper focus. Her eyes flash a silent signal, and I know it’s time.

Cian’s up first, swift as a striking snake. He grabs Bonnie and leaps up on the table, jumping down, stealthy like a cat, already drawing his blade. We follow his lead without hesitation. We wade into the sea of flesh and sweat, zeroing in on the bastards who got too close to what’s ours—fuck… to what’s his.

There’s no elegance to it; it’s sheer fucking brutality as I shove aside anyone dumb enough to step into my path. We have our targets, and these bystanders will only get their ass kicked if they interfere. This is what I was born to do. Born to raise hell.