Page 48 of Beautiful Scars

I laugh despite myself, shaking my head as I gather the clean glasses from the back counter and get ready to pour another round of shots. "So, it's only fair. Tell me something about you."

Before he can respond, someone claps him on the shoulder—a solid thud that breaks whatever invisible thread was holding us together.

“Wolf,” Zane mutters without looking, his jaw flexing.

“Damn, boss,” Wolf says, sliding onto the stool next to him with an exaggerated sigh. “We spent a fortune to spend the night in a VIP lounge with all these gorgeous women, and you’re over here brooding at the bar.” He glances at me, his grin wide and teasing. “Not that I can blame you really.”

I roll my eyes but can’t help the small smirk tugging at my lips. "I told him the exact same thing."

Zane turns his head slowly, shooting Wolf a look that would send most people running. He just laughs, clapping him on the back again.

“Come on,” Wolf says, jerking his head toward the group. “You’ve been sitting here all night. Time to stop being an unsociable dick and join the party.”

Zane exhales a long, slow breath, his gaze flicking back to mine. For a moment, I think he’s going to stay, to brush the guy off and keep this quiet, charged moment alive.

But then he stands, his movement slow and deliberate.

“Duty calls,” he says quietly, his eyes still locked on mine. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—reluctance, maybe—but he masks it quickly.

I shrug, keeping my tone light even as something inside me knots. “Don’t let me keep you.”

He holds my gaze for a heartbeat longer before turning and following Wolf to one of the tables with a stage where all the guys are sitting.

I should feel relieved. I should be glad for the interruption, glad for the space to breathe. Instead, I find my eyes drawn to him, tracking his every step across the room.

As he joins the group, he glances back once, catching me watching him.

I don’t look away.

Neither does he.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Levi

Themapsspreadoutin front of us tell a story of careful planning—property lines marked in blue, security checkpoints in red, potential weaknesses circled in yellow. Early morning sun filters through the office windows, highlighting the coffee cups that litter the polished, wooden desktop. None of these guys got more than a few hours of sleep after the club, but work doesn't wait.

Z looks as put together as he always does despite the late night, his black hair pulled back neatly, his T-shirt perfectly crisp and white. I'd swear the guy's part machine. Only the slight shadows under his eyes give away his fatigue.

"The security system needs a complete overhaul," Z says, tapping a spot on the blueprint. "Especially around the back entrance. Chase found three blind spots yesterday."

I lean over the desk, studying his precise handwriting in the margins. "Timeline?"

"Two weeks, maybe three. It depends on how fast we can get the equipment." He rolls his shoulders, a subtle tell of exhaustion. "The renovation crew starts on Monday in the east section of the house."

"Good." I straighten, catching the slight tremor in Z's hand as he reaches for his coffee. It's barely noticeable—anyone else would miss it. But I've known him too long. Something's off.

"So, you had Colt pull information on the club." It's not a question.

Z's expression doesn't change, but his pause before answering is a fraction too long. "Seemed worth looking into. The location alone makes it valuable."

"Since when do you care about territory?"

"Since you made this project a top priority." He meets my gaze steadily, but there's something new there, something I can't quite read. "It might be useful. At least worth checking out."

Before I can answer, Colt strides in, his designer sneakers silent on the hardwood floor, tablet in hand. He looks irritatingly fresh and even more put together than Z. You'd never know either of them had been up all night drinking. It's a little impressive.

"This better be important," Z says, scrubbing his face.

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