The music from The Den thumped in my chest before we even reached the door, the bass reverberating through the cracked sidewalk like a living heartbeat-something wild and primal that never really slept.
Even from the outside, the place pulsed with a kind of energy that wasn't fully explainable. Not overtly supernatural, but... off. A touch too alive. A bit too aware.
Magic wasn't common in Thornhollow-not anymore. Not openly. And yet as Ana and I neared the glowing red neon, something in the air prickled across my skin like a whispered dare.
The Den had always been Thornhollow's answer to chaos. A nightclub tucked between a defunct movie theater and a tattoo shop, it attracted students, locals, and thrill-seekers from miles away. On weekends, the line wrapped around the building, but tonight, the bouncer waved us through with little more than a once-over and a nod-either recognizing us or just sensing we didn't belong in line.
Ana's sequined top caught every flicker of passing headlights, throwing sparks of color across her black jeans. Her smoky eye makeup made her look like a conjured spell-dangerous, enchanting, untouchable. She walked like she owned the place, like anyone who stared at her too long might burn for it.
I'd gone for edge over subtlety. A black leather skirt that hugged tight at my waist, paired with a thin-strapped crop top that showed off just enough skin to challenge anyone watching. A serpent tattoo curled over my abdomen, barely visible beneath the strobe lights that spilled from the open doors. Hidden beneath my top, inked low along my spine, was something more ancient: a ward. A sigil passed down in blood and magic. A secret.
We looked like any two college girls ready to raise hell on a Friday night.
But beneath the shimmer and smoke, our blood whispered a different truth.
------
Inside, the club hit like a heatwave. The air was thick-humid with sweat and breath and spilled drinks. Bodies swayed in time with the beat, limbs flashing under strobe lights, the crowd a blur of hips and laughter and liquor. The scent of perfume mixed with beer and something harder to place, like ozone after a storm.
The Den wasn't supernatural-but it felt like it could be. Like if you looked too closely, the shadows might shift. Like something old and half-forgotten curled beneath the dance floor.
"I missed this," Ana said with a wicked smile, pulling me toward the bar.
The bartender-tall, and lean with unnaturally bright green eyes-caught our approach and grinned. I blinked. Was that a flicker of shimmer in his pupils? Maybe it was just the lighting, the strobe catching glassware behind him.
He didn't ask what we wanted. Two cherry whiskey sours slid down the bar toward us before we could speak. No magic. No glowing hands. Just an intuitive guess-or the kind of charm that came from watching enough tipsy college girls.
Still, Ana arched a brow and raised her glass.
"To surviving the week," she said.
"To hiding in plain sight," I replied.
We clinked glasses.
The drink was perfect-tart, sweet, and just strong enough to unwind the coil of nerves in my chest.
We didn't linger at the bar. The dance floor called.
⸻----
The music was a living thing, beating through the soles of my boots and into my bloodstream. I let it take me-let my hips sway, arms rise, eyes flutter closed. Ana moved nearby, spinning like wildfire in the dark, laughter spilling from her lips as the crowd pressed in.
We weren't performing. We weren't blending in.
We were reclaiming.
The part of me that had been hiding-the part that still itched with memories of rain and blood-loosened. Just a little.
Ana found a rhythm with a guy who towered over her. He looked like he played football or fought bears for a living-blond and broad, flashing a grin that could split the moon. He didn't seem supernatural. Just human. Harmless. And yet something in the way he watched Ana made me stay alert.
Zack stumbled into view next, clearly halfway through his third drink, arm slung around a red-haired girl in a glittery halter. His laughter was thunderous, his grin wide and wild.
Another girl joined them. Maybe Ava. Or Kayla? I couldn't remember. She tugged Zack into an exaggerated spin, both of them nearly colliding with a nearby table, dissolving into giggles.
The crowd pulsed. Sweat clung to skin. Someone shouted something over the music. The DJ dropped the tempo, and the lights dimmed to red and indigo.
That's when I felt him.
Brett.
He didn't announce his arrival-just appeared behind me like smoke.
One hand grazed my waist, fingers settling there with casual, practiced confidence. The other ghosted over my hip.
"Missed a step," he murmured, his voice too close to my ear. "Had to come fix that."
My body didn't jolt. Didn't freeze.
Instead, I leaned back-just slightly. Let him think I welcomed the heat.
"I don't need fixing," I said.
He chuckled, low and rough. "Didn't say you did. But I figured you might appreciate someone who speaks your language."
"And what language is that?"
He turned me slowly, hands never straying. "Chaos. Fire. Whatever you're bottling under that smile."
His eyes drifted lower. Toward the black ink beneath my shirt. The sigil he couldn't see-but somehow, almost sensed.
His thumb traced the skin near it, curious.
"You're full of secrets, Scarlet Everen."
"So are you."
His gaze sharpened, just for a second. "You have no idea."
The music slowed again. Darker. Deeper. Brett's grip tightened just enough to pull me flush to him. Our bodies aligned like puzzle pieces forged in the dark.
And for a moment, I let it happen.
I wasn't pretending anymore.
I was daring him to try.
The music slowed to a pulse, low and thick like the echo of thunder across wet earth. Brett's hands skimmed my sides, guiding the rhythm of our bodies. His fingers grazed the hem of my top again, dangerously close to the sigil inked beneath the fabric.
He didn't know what it meant.
But part of him felt it.
His eyes were locked on mine-searching, calculating. Almost reverent.
Like I was a myth he was trying to prove real.
And for a second, I let myself enjoy it.
Then everything shifted.
The air turned cold-not physically, but energetically. Like someone had cracked open the sky above us and let a storm spill through the rafters.
My breath hitched.
I didn't need to look to know who had just walked into the room.
Alec.
His presence slammed into mine across the club like a thunderclap-sharp, cold, unrelenting. Magic met magic in a collision that burned through my chest. I felt it ripple beneath my skin, a chain reaction igniting every nerve ending.
I turned slowly.
He was near the hearth at the back of the club, half-swathed in shadow. His black shirt hugged every muscle like it had been made for him, sleeves rolled just enough to show veins threaded with something molten.
And his eyes...
Crimson. Burning.
Locked on mine.
Then on Brett.
Then back again.
My spine straightened.
My lips parted into a slow, deliberate smile.
And I leaned back-just enough for Alec to see the way Brett's hands traced the bare skin of my waist. I let my hips roll into Brett's with a calculated grace, a silent watch me dancing in my posture.
Alec's jaw ticked. Just once.
The storm inside me howled.
Not because I wanted to hurt him-
But because I wanted him to feel something.
"Make him watch," a voice whispered inside me.
The voice that remembered what it felt like to be left burning in the dark.
Brett didn't speak. He didn't need to. He felt it too-the weight of the stare behind me, the shift in atmosphere. His fingers splayed wider against my back, anchoring me to him like a dare.
For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
Then-
Crack.
Glass shattered.
A snarl echoed from somewhere near the bar-low and inhuman.
The music faltered.
Chairs scraped. Someone screamed. Another crack-this time a pool cue splitting in two.
Chaos.
"Shit," Ana's voice broke through the noise. She'd pulled away from her dance partner and was scanning the crowd, hands half-lifted. Her eyes glinted lavender beneath the strobe, magic bristling just beneath her skin-but not erupting. Not yet.
It wasn't a full-blown supernatural brawl. Not yet. But it was close. Close enough that I could feel the tension tearing at the seams of the room.
A bartender shouted something. A glass flew past someone's head. One of the speakers blew out in a hiss of static.
And then-Alec.
His hand was suddenly on my wrist, fingers like iron.
"We need to go. Now."
I yanked back, fire flashing through my chest. "I can handle myself."
He didn't flinch. Just leaned in, voice low and blistering at my ear. "I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about what you'll do."
Before I could snap back, the world tore sideways.
⸻----
Wind. Trees. Cold air.
We stumbled into the woods just beyond Silverthorne Manor, the portal closing in a whoosh behind us. The sudden quiet was deafening. No music. No chaos.
Just the whisper of branches and the throb of leftover adrenaline.
I spun on him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snapped. "Dragging me out like that?"
"You think I was going to stand there while you rubbed up on him?" Alec's voice cracked with fury. "While half the club was about to turn into a battlefield?"
"So you kidnapped me?"
His eyes glowed faintly in the dark. "I pulled you out before you got hurt. Or before someone else did."
"I had it under control."
He stepped closer, heat rolling off him in waves. "You call that control?"
"I didn't shift. I didn't break anything. I didn't burn anything."
"Not yet," he growled. "But you would've. I saw it."
I didn't back down. "Say it. Say why you're really mad."
His lips parted. His jaw worked. Then-quietly, so quietly-he said,
"Because he had his hands on you. And I couldn't breathe."
My heart cracked open.
Our energy was already wound tight. His storm met my fire, clashing and curling around each other like a living thing. Like the universe couldn't decide if we were meant to destroy or save each other.
"You don't get to be jealous," I whispered.
"It's not jealousy," he said. "It's something else. Something older. Deeper."
He stepped forward again. Our breath mingled.
"You're not just a werewolf," he said, softer now. "Not just an enchantress. You're both-and more."
The words made my chest seize.
"How do you know that?" I asked.
His voice dropped. "Because I'm not just a werewolf either."
The trees around us held their breath.
"And you're not the only one who remembers the night the world burned."
Something inside me snapped into place.
"You were there," I breathed. "The night Ana and I ran. You were there."
"I've always been there," he said.
"But I don't-"
"You will."
The woods didn't answer. They just listened.
And when he stepped closer-just enough to feel the heat radiating between us-I didn't move away.
Because I felt it too.
Whatever this was between us...
It had never really ended.
And it was far from done.