Page 10 of Undisputed Chaos
I saw the way their gazes lingered, hungry and a little nervous, as if they couldn’t decide if I was the best or worst thing that could happen to them tonight. Spoiler alert: probably both.
I liked that uncertainty. I liked the way people parted for me without realizing it, the way they felt the danger radiating off me, and couldn't look away even as their survival instincts screamedrun.
Some girls whispered behind their hands, eyes wide as they took in my jaw, my scars, the way I moved, like I owned the place, like I was looking for trouble and hoping to find it.
A few tried to catch my eye, lips painted and hopeful, but I just gave them a lazy smile and let my gaze drift on.
I wasn’t here for easy. And I sure as fuck wasn’t here for safe.
The crowd shifted and swayed around me, a kaleidoscope of expensive fabrics and designer perfumes.
A group of finance bros in tailored suits gave me side-eyes from the VIP section, clearly wondering what a tattooed psychopath was doing in their pristine playground.
I raised my glass in mock salute, flashing them the grin that made opponents piss themselves in the ring.
They looked away so fast I was surprised they didn't get whiplash. People like that always folded first—all bark, no bite, probably never thrown a real punch in their mediocre lives.
I finished my drink, letting the ice clink against the glass as I scanned the crowd. I was restless again, my skin buzzing from the fight, the win, and the need for something more.
Something that would scratch the itch that had been building under my skin since my gloves came off.
Maybe a girl, maybe a guy, maybe a drink. Maybe a little blood if the night called for it.
"Another?" The bartender nodded at my empty glass, her eyesappreciatively tracing the ink visible over my abs where my top rode up.
"Make it a double." I flashed her the grin that made opponents flinch in the ring and women melt. She just smiled back and poured generously.
After my second drink, I decided to move. Sitting still had never been my strong suit, especially not after a fight when my blood still sang with violence.
I slid through the bodies on the dance floor like a shark through a school of fish, not really dancing, just moving, letting the music wash over me like waves breaking against rock.
And that's when I saw the sun itself—soft and warm, pure fucking sunshine in this den of wolves.
She stood out like a sunrise in a world of neon, soft curves and golden hair, swaying gently to the music with a half-empty champagne flute in her hand.
Her white halter dress hugged every delicious dip and curve of her body, the material catching the light with each movement.
She was a goddess come to life, full and plush, curves begging for my hands.
Her golden hair tumbled over bare shoulders, framing features that looked like they belonged in a Renaissance painting.
She was with friends, a birthday celebration from the look of the tiara on the redhead's head, but she seemed somehow apart from them, lost in the music rather than the conversation.
Like a beautiful angel who’d wandered too far from heaven.
Her lips moved slightly, singing along to lyrics I couldn't hear over the bass. There was something so ethereal about her, something so fucking angelic, that it called to me like nothing else in this world ever had.
The space between us felt like an ocean I needed to cross.
I tracked her movements like a predator studying prey, watching her dress shimmer under the lights, how her friends gradually drifted away to chat with some guys by one of the bars.
She didn't seem to notice, still swaying gently, eyes half-closed like she was having a private moment with the music.
I straightened, every instinct sharpening to a knife’s edge. The crowd faded away, the noise receding until it was just her and the way she moved, the way she seemed both lost and utterly present at the same time.
For a moment, I just watched, letting the hunger build, letting the anticipation curl hot and dark in my gut.
Then I moved without thinking, drawn toward her like gravity.
