Denver.
The club was loud tonight.
Almost too loud.
Bass thumped through the walls like a second heartbeat, the kind that doesn’t let you forget what kind of world you belong to.
Neon lights bounced off leather jackets and glossed lips, bodies grinding on the dance floor, drinks being poured like waterfalls behind the bar.
But none of it touched me.
Somehow I couldn't get past the discussion I had with Zee the previous day. Even though I had sent her messages, I had yet to get a reply, and thoughts of what she might say had my mind restless.
I was seated at the back of the VIP lounge, separated from the chaos by a tinted glass wall. My crew gathered around the table—some standing, some seated—laughing, arguing, throwing back shots like the night owed us something.
Trigger was hal
