The bass rattled through the floor, sweat dripping from the walls, and the crowd pulsed like a living thing. My cigarette burned low between my fingers as I watched her keep dancing, keep laughing—right there in front of me, like she didn’t know whose eyes she was playing with.

Every time that guy leaned closer, my blood ran hotter. Every time she let him, I swore I felt something in me crack.

Borderline. Always there with her. She pushed me right to it and smiled when she saw me teeter.

And then he touched her waist. Just a simple, stupid move—but it was enough.

The cigarette hit the floor. I was already moving.

The crowd parted when they saw me coming—everyone always did. One look at my face and they stepped aside like shadows retreating from fire. My hand fisted in the guy’s collar before he even realized, dragging him back so fast he stumbled.

“You lost, asshole?” I snarled, my voice low enough to drown out the music for him. His eyes widened, his mouth opening like he might protest. Wrong choice. My fist twisted tighter in his shirt, shoving him back into the wall hard enough for his teeth to clack. “Touch her again, and you won’t leave here with all your fingers.”

I didn’t wait for a reply. Didn’t care. He was nothing.

When I turned, she was already staring at me, chest heaving from the dance, eyes burning. She wasn’t afraid. Of course she wasn’t. No, she was… thrilled. That look—like she got exactly what she wanted—lit a match to every ounce of restraint I had left.

I grabbed her wrist, yanking her off the floor and through the throng before she could blink. She stumbled, but I didn’t slow down. My hand wrapped tight around hers, dragging her past the crowd, through the back hall, and into the shadows of the corridor where the bass was nothing but a dull thud behind us.

Her back hit the wall, my body pinning hers before she could say a word. My chest pressed to hers, my tattoos burning against her skin as I caged her in with both hands.

“You think this is a game?” I hissed, breath hot against her ear. “You think I won’t burn down the whole fucking place for you?”

She smirked—smirked—and tilted her chin up, eyes glinting. “Maybe I want to see if you will.”

My laugh came out dark, broken, dangerous. “Careful, angel.” My hand slid down, gripping her thigh hard. “I don’t play on the edge. I jump.”

And then my mouth crushed against hers—rough, claiming, the kind of kiss that tasted like blood and smoke and obsession. Not love. Not safety. Something darker. Something we both craved, even if it killed us.

Because with her, there was no line. Only the fall.