The party was a success. The club was packed, the bass vibrating through the floor, and my glass trembling with every beat. My men were scattered around, keeping watch. Security was on high alert—no one was getting in or out without my say-so. Alliances were being strengthened tonight, deals made under the flashing red lights that sliced through the haze of smoke. Everyone knew their role, and everyone knew the stakes.

And then there was her. Dressed as an angel.

White lace clung to her form, feathers brushing against her back like she had wandered in from another world entirely. She was light, too pure and innocent for this dark crowd. An outlier in a sea of leather, red horns, and shadows. She didn’t belong here. She shouldn’t have been here. I’d half expected her to turn around the moment she stepped inside. But she didn’t.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Two of my men were already on their way over to her, cutting through the crowd with the confidence of men who knew this place belonged to them. One of them leaned in close, his voice a whisper against her ear, something that made her tense. The other scanned her body, eyes lingering like he was enjoying the contrast—an angel in a den of devils.

They were assholes, and they knew better than to mess with me.

"Leave her alone," I said, my voice calm, but enough to carry through the noise.

Both of them froze, their heads snapping to meet my gaze. A brief exchange passed between them, and they backed off, disappearing into the crowd without a word.

She let out a slow breath, her shoulders dropping as the tension eased. She wasn’t scared—just uncomfortable. And that didn’t sit right with me.

I pushed off the couch, making my way over to her with deliberate steps. As I approached, I stopped just close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to meet my eyes.

"You alright?" My voice was low, cutting through the music, just for her.