14. Cian

The crowd partslike we’re Moses at the bloody Red Sea, their eager faces thirsty for violence or fearing being caught in the crossfire. Doesn’t matter to me which it is. I’m here for one thing tonight, and that’s to fuck some faces up.

The blade in my hand is an extension of my will, glinting under the strobe lights as I close in on the first prick who dared touch her. He doesn’t even see it coming; he’s too busy gawking at Victoria’s curves like she’s a piece of meat, so I’ll carve him up like one, too.

Throwing Bonnie to Tory, she grins and swings it wildly, hitting the guy with his hands practically on her tits, away from her with a maniacal laugh that thrills the devil inside me. I drive my knife into this fucker’s gut, pulling him closer. He goes down without much fight.

I grab another by the collar and drag him close until our foreheads almost touch. “You think you can just fucking touch what’s mine?” I ask. There is no need to add menace when I’ve already got it seeping out of every pore, my eyes locked onto his wide, terror-filled ones. The smell of sweat and fear is potent between us.

He tries to stammer out an apology, but I’m not in the mood for his fucking words. My head snaps forward, and I hear the crunch as my forehead connects with his nose—a satisfying break—and blood spurts across my face as he screams.

I toss him aside, already reaching for another dick who thought touching her was a good idea.

How wrong they all were.

The bloodlust in the air is contagious, and I can’t get enough of it. Luke moves through the crowd like a fucking ghost, his moves deadly precise. He’s at my back, covering me as I plunge deeper into the swarm of bodies.

I catch a glimpse of Victoria—wild, feral, and achingly beautiful as she fights her demons brought to life by these guys flocked around her. She’s got fire in her bones and ice in her heart when it comes to protecting what’s hers. She isn’t just any girl; she’s a queen who knows how to keep her king in check.

Her eyes flicker to Luke for a mere second, acknowledging his presence, before she lashes out at another idiot who tried his luck. He doesn’t stand a chance; with one swift movement, she kicks him hard in the groin and then drives the heel of her shoe into his chest when he doubles over.

I’m drawn back into my fight as some bastard lands a punch across my cheek. It doesn’t faze me; instead, it pumps more adrenaline through my veins. I retaliate with a gut punch that has him doubling over before I grab his head and knee him right in the face.

The music is still blaring, but all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears and the cries of the wounded. We’re demons unleashed upon sinners tonight.

Gianluca takes down anyone who tries to get near Victoria. It’s not that she needs the assistance, but it’s appreciated—by me, anyway.

My fist connects with another face, the satisfying crunch of cartilage breaking under my knuckles. Blood coats my hand, warm and sticky, and I feel alive. This is the world we live in, where power is king, and mercy is for the weak.

I turn just in time to catch someone’s punch mid-air, twisting their arm back until something snaps. The guy screams, but the sound is lost in the roar of the crowd.

Looking up, I get to witness the pure arousal of my girl with a feral smile as she takes a beer bottle from the bar and smashes it over some prick’s head. The guy crumples without a sound, and she spins to find her next target.

My senses are stinging with the sight, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her, not even as someone tries to jump me from behind. But Luke’s got it. His arm wraps around the fucker’s neck, dragging him back into the shadows. He’s silent but deadly, a shadow.

Part of me wonders how deep his feelings for her run. Enough to break his loyalty to me? Time will tell.

I’m back in it then, as a twat grabs me from behind. He didn’t get the memo that we’re not to be fucked with. I respond by elbowing him hard in the ribs, hearing them crack beneath the force of my blow. He gasps and doubles over, leaving himself vulnerable. With little effort, I bring my knee up into his face before I plunge Clyde into the side of his neck.

Blood is everywhere—splattered on the floor, staining my clothes, mixing with spilt drinks and broken glass. It’s suffocating but exhilarating all at once.

Then it’s over almost as quickly as it started. The bouncers finally grow a pair and start moving in—but they’re late to the party.

“Time to move,” G rasps, not even pausing to catch his breath as he sweeps towards the back entrance, keeping his eyes peeled for any new threats that might pop up. He’s right. I’ve done what I needed to do.

I drag my sleeve across my face, smearing the blood more than cleaning it off. A wildness in my chest hasn’t quite been tamed yet, but it’ll have to wait. Victoria’s beside me, her face streaked with red, but her smirk is pure satisfaction.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I snarl, and she nods enthusiastically, the chaos of tonight igniting something dangerous and hungry in her gaze.

The darkness outside is welcome after the blaze of lights and violence we just walked out on. It’s like a slap of cold sobering me up just enough to remember that I’m now head of the Gannon family shitshow. My father’s death still hammers at my chest, rage and irritation warring for dominance.

We’re all dripping blood and sweat as we catch our breaths. Victoria leans against the wall, her chest heaving, her hair dishevelled—looking every bit the warrior queen who has just walked through fire unscathed.

I reach out and run my thumb across her jawline, smearing blood that isn’t hers. “You were fucking magnificent,” I murmur.

“Demon’s exorcised?” she pants.

“For now,” I mutter and turn from her. She grabs my hand, and we walk away from the bar and back to the Jeep. G swings his leg over his motorbike, which catches Victoria’s eye. I watch her reaction as he shoves his helmet on and bolts off like a bat out of hell. What is she thinking?

What the fuck are any of us thinking?

“Stay the night?”

She shakes her head.

“That’s twice you’ve sacked me off. Got something better to do?” I growl.

“Sleep,” she says. “Got a problem with that?”

Grimacing at her, the magic of the fight and the glory of it vanishes and we’re back to me being a dick and her being a bitch because of it.

One day, we might play a different game, but for now. This is us.

Wrecked. Ravaged. Fucked in the head.