The conversation around Lara carried on, voices blending into the steady pulse of music filtering in from the club outside.
Every now and then, Gio, Noah, or Duke would try to pull her into the discussion, throwing casual remarks her way. She would offer them a polite smile, a nod, or a brief reply before retreating back into silence. She kept her focus on her drink, sipping slowly, letting the burn of alcohol distract her from the thoughts she didn’t want to entertain.
She wasn’t necessarily trying to be distant—it just felt easier to listen than to engage.
And besides, she wasn’t the only one who was quiet.
Reagan didn’t talk much either. He sat across from her, effortlessly blending into the background despite his commanding presence. He responded when spoken to, but his words were
