Chapter 7
467 Words
Celina
The club had crossed the line from fun to unbearable.
Celina leaned against the bar, blinking hard as the bass thudded through her skull. Sweat slicked her spine. The air smelled like perfume, alcohol, and too many bodies pressed too close.
She checked her phone. No signal.
“Maya?” she called again, voice swallowed by the music.
A hand brushed her waist. She stiffened.
“No,” she snapped, twisting away—only to collide with another solid body.
Strong arms steadied her instantly.
“Hey,” a deep voice said calmly. “Easy.”
She looked up, vision swimming.
He was devastating in a way that felt unfair—broad shoulders, dark hair, a presence that radiated control without effort. Not Elliot. Similar, but lighter somehow. Warmer.
“I think,” she said slowly, “I might be done for the night.”
He smiled slightly. “Yeah. You look like you pushed it.”
She tried to laugh. It came out wrong.
The room tilted.
“Whoa,” he said, tightening his grip. “Okay. I’ve got you.”
She clutched his shirt, embarrassed and dizzy. “I’m not usually like this.”
“Everyone says that,” he replied gently. “You want water? Air?”
She nodded—or maybe she didn’t. Her head felt full of cotton.
“Sam.”
The name cut through the noise like a blade.
Her body reacted before her mind caught up.
Elliot stood a few steps away, eyes dark, posture rigid, fury barely contained beneath control.
The man holding her—Sam—turned. “You know her?”
Elliot didn’t answer him.
He looked at her.
And something in his expression—raw, shaken, possessive—made her breath hitch.
“She’s leaving,” Elliot said.
Sam frowned. “She’s not well—”
Elliot closed the distance in two strides and took her from Sam’s arms, firm but careful, his hand solid at her back, anchoring her instantly.
The world steadied.
She should have protested.
She didn’t.
“Elliot,” Sam warned.
“Not now.”
The night fractured after that—cool air, flashing lights, voices calling her name. She vaguely registered Maya shouting, hands waving, confusion everywhere.
Then the car.
Leather. Darkness. Motion.
Elliot sat opposite her, jaw clenched, breathing hard, eyes never leaving her face.
She tried to speak.
The city vanished.
Elliot looked at Celina—her lashes dark against flushed cheeks, her body loose and vulnerable in a way that twisted something feral in his chest.
Where to take her.
What to do.
What lines he was already crossing.
His gaze darkened as the car sped into the night.
And for the first time, Elliot Blackwood wasn’t sure whether he was protecting her—
Or claiming her.
- Writer
