The club pulsed like a living thing.
Music thumped from the walls. Laughter and glass clinks filled the air. But Elara couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
She stood behind the bar with Tali, wiping down glasses for the third time just to keep her hands busy. Her thoughts kept drifting—Damien's unreadable stare from last night, Bianca's venom-laced warning, and Lucy's half-sincere smirk that promised trouble.
Oasis of Joy was glitter on the outside, but something ugly always simmered underneath.
Tonight, it boiled.
Tali leaned in. "Heads up. We've got company."
Elara looked up. A group of men had walked in—three, all in black, wearing expressions that screamed don't fck with us.*
"New clients?" Elara asked.
Tali's lips tightened. "Not the good kind."
The tallest of the three locked eyes with her. Not in a flirty way. In a you're being measured for something way.
And Elara's stomach dropped.
Damien wasn't on the floor tonight. That meant Rafe was in charge, and right on cue, he materialized from the back, gaze laser-focused on the new arrivals.
Tali leaned over, whispered, "That's Andrei's crew. Eastern side. They've been poking around for weeks. Damien's been ignoring them, but they clearly didn't get the hint."
Elara's skin prickled.
"Why are they here?"
"Testing boundaries." Tali's jaw was tight. "Or looking to break them."
One of the men approached the bar.
"I'll take a bourbon," he said to Elara, his voice rough with a slight accent. He didn't smile. Didn't blink. Just watched her.
She nodded, reaching for the bottle.
"You're new," he added, eyes scanning her like she was a blueprint. "Pretty face. What's your name?"
Elara didn't answer.
Tali jumped in. "We don't give out names. House rules."
The man smiled, slow and sharp. "That so?"
He looked over his shoulder at his crew. One of them laughed. The other just stared.
This wasn't a drink order. It was bait.
Rafe stepped in like a storm cloud. "Is there a problem?"
The man turned. "Not at all. Just admiring the new hire. Damien always did have good taste."
Rafe's jaw tightened. "Finish your drink. Then leave."
The tension in the room surged. The man smirked, tipped his glass toward Elara, and walked away.
For now.
An hour passed, but the unease never did. Elara couldn't stop glancing toward the corners. Her hands were steady, but her nerves were on edge.
Then it happened.
Glass shattered.
Screams.
A single, deafening bang.
Gunshot.
Elara ducked instinctively as chaos exploded around her. The bottle display behind the bar shattered, sending shards flying. Tali pulled her down behind the counter, her arm a steel grip around Elara's wrist.
"Stay down!" Tali barked.
People were screaming, running. Two of the men from earlier had pulled weapons. One fired again into the ceiling.
This wasn't a robbery.
It was a message.
Rafe's voice thundered across the room. "EVERYONE OUT!"
Security rushed in. Chaos churned. One of the shooters disappeared into the crowd, the other backed toward the exit, covering his partner. But it wasn't fast enough.
Because Damien had arrived.
He stepped in through the front entrance like a goddamn storm.
Gun in hand. Eyes like hellfire.
Someone tried to stop him. Big mistake. Damien dropped the guy with a single blow to the throat, never slowing down.
He was heading for Elara.
She was still crouched behind the bar, trying not to hyperventilate, when he reached her.
"Elara."
His voice cut through everything.
She looked up — glass in her hair, hands trembling.
And he knelt beside her, grabbing her face with both hands like he was making sure she was real.
"Are you hurt?" he demanded, eyes scanning for blood.
"I—I'm fine," she managed.
His gaze locked on hers.
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not—just… shaken."
He exhaled sharply and turned to Rafe. "Lock it down. No one leaves until we know who the hell sent them."
Later, back in his office, she sat on the leather couch, still shaking. Damien poured her a drink—not whiskey this time. Just water.
She sipped it with trembling fingers.
"You shouldn't have been there," he muttered, pacing. "I told Rafe to keep you off the floor this week."
"I was behind the bar. With Tali."
"I don't care." His voice was low. Dangerous. "That wasn't just a random incident."
"I figured," she said quietly.
He stopped pacing. Turned to her. "They knew your name."
She blinked. "What?"
"Before the shots. One of them asked for you. By name."
Her stomach dropped.
Damien crossed the room in two strides, crouched in front of her again. "Someone is targeting you. Through me."
"Why?"
"Because they know what you mean to me."
That stopped her.
Elara stared. "And what do I mean to you, Damien?"
He didn't answer.
Not with words.
Instead, he stood, walked to the door, and locked it.
When he turned back, his expression was something else entirely. Not cold. Not composed.
Possessive.
"I don't let people close," he said, his voice quieter now. "Because the moment I do, they become leverage."
"You think I'm leverage?"
"No. I think you're the goddamn weak spot I can't afford."
The room felt hotter. He took a step toward her.
"I didn't ask for this," he said. "I didn't ask for you."
Elara stood, meeting him halfway. "Then why did you hire me?"
"Because I wanted control."
"Then control me," she whispered, daring him.
But he didn't touch her.
Didn't move.
Just stared.
"I already lost control the moment you walked in."