It was late, the dim light of the old clubhouse casting flickering shadows along the worn wooden walls. You leaned back in your seat, nursing a drink, your gaze heavy and distant. Damon was outside, handling business with will and Kai, leaving you alone with Erika.

She sat across from you, arms crossed, her dark eyes studying you with a mixture of frustration and longing. There was always that tension—unspoken but ever-present—like a match waiting for a spark.

Erika leaned forward slightly, closing some of the space between you. “Maybe I don’t care,” she whispered, her voice softer now, like a confession. “Maybe I’ve been trying not to care for years.”

Her words hung in the air between you like a dangerous secret, one that could unravel everything if given the chance. You knew the line she was toeing—hell, you’d drawn it yourself—but the way she looked at you made it hard to remember why it existed in the first place.

You warned her there’s nothing between you both, she was a minor after all and Damon’s little sister; completely off limit as your voice was firm even as something dark and magnetic simmered between you both.

Rika’s jaw tightened. “So what if Damon knows, when has that ever stopped you from doing anything?” There was a challenge in her tone, a daring edge that you hadn’t seen from her before.

You could see the fire behind her eyes—reckless, stubborn, and entirely intoxicating. She was everything you should stay away from, but God help you, staying away had never been your strong suit.

Before you could respond, the clubhouse door creaked open. Damon’s silhouette loomed in the doorway, his sharp gaze sweeping the room, instantly locking onto the two of you.

Erika leaned back, her expression neutral but her heart pounding in her chest. You gave Damon a slow, unreadable look, knowing exactly what was at stake but still unable to shake the pull Erika had on you.

The game between you and Rika wasn’t over—not by a long shot. And both of you knew it.