Chapter 2 — Eyes That Burn
Gale
The Velvet Inferno thrummed with life, a hypnotic beast that pulsed to the rhythm of power and indulgence. From my vantage point in the VIP lounge, shielded by one-way mirrors and heavy crimson drapes, I watched the sea of bodies below. The dancers moved like sirens, their figures bending light and shadow into a wordless language of allure. But tonight—tonight, something wasn’t right. No, that wasn’t it. Tonight, something was different.
She was different.
Most nights, I let Maddox keep watch over the club while I dealt with matters that required more of my attention. But tonight, the restlessness that had clawed at my chest was unshakable. My father’s latest order loomed over me like a storm cloud, the weight of it pressing against my temples. I came here seeking distraction, anything to dampen the persistent thrum of dissatisfaction. Instead, I found her.
She moved across the stage as though she owned it—not the kind of false confidence that could be mistaken for arrogance, but something quieter, more dangerous. There was a precision to her movements, each step deliberate yet fluid, as if she’d mastered not just the choreography but the art of holding an entire room hostage. Other dancers performed to be seen, striving for approval. She performed as though the approval of others didn’t matter. And that made her impossible to look away from.
I leaned forward in my seat, the edges of my glass drink forgotten on the low table before me. The lights distorted her features, but even through the haze, I caught the glint of her eyes—amber, piercing, alive. My gut twisted in recognition before my mind could catch up, a flicker of memory I couldn’t quite place. It unnerved me.
“New girl,” Maddox muttered beside me, his voice low but cutting through the heavy bass. His sharp hazel eyes followed my gaze. He leaned back in his chair, his broad, relaxed posture betraying his ever-present vigilance. “Hired tonight. Reyna signed off.”
Of course Reyna had. My sister had an eye for finding talent, but this one—this Ava—was different. There was something about her that made the room feel smaller, the air heavier. Something about the way she moved, as though she was both part of the stage and separate from it. But it wasn’t just talent. It was something else. Something I couldn’t name that felt like the kind of warning you don’t get twice.
“She stands out,” I said finally, keeping my tone casual. Maddox didn’t need to know how tightly wound my thoughts had become.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Understatement of the night. You’re not usually this interested, boss.” His words carried no malice, but the edge of protectiveness in them was unmistakable.
I didn’t respond. Maddox never pushed, but he didn’t miss much either. My focus remained on her. The song was coming to an end, the notes slowing like a heart nearing stillness. Ava froze mid-turn, her arms suspended above her head, her figure carved against the light in sharp relief. Applause erupted, and the room seemed to exhale as one. Then she straightened, her expression cool and unreadable, and disappeared into the wings.
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my chest tight with something I didn’t want to name. Memory? Instinct? Whatever it was, it refused to fade.
“Maddox,” I said, my voice low enough to not carry beyond him, “keep an eye on her.”
He straightened slightly, his focus sharpening. “You think there’s a problem?”
“Just a precaution,” I replied. “For now.”
He nodded once. No questions, no unnecessary words. One of the reasons I trusted Maddox was because he knew when to leave things alone.
Pushing the glass aside, I stood, adjusting the cuffs of my suit. The lounge suddenly felt too small, the din of the crowd below a dull roar that couldn’t quiet the discord in my head. The signet ring on my finger caught the dim light as I flexed my hand, its weight familiar but no less oppressive. A reminder of who I was, and of the cage I couldn’t escape.
The private elevator carried me down to the ground floor, each quiet hum of its descent grounding me. When the doors slid open, I stepped into the back hallway, leaving behind the relentless thrum of the club. The air was cooler here, tinged with the faint metallic scent of rain carried inside by waves of patrons. Solitude. Space. I needed both.
And then I saw her.
She was by the coat check, slipping into a dark trench coat. Her damp hair clung to her face, the waves catching the soft light in a way that made her seem caught between shadows and something brighter. For the first time, I saw her clearly—and that flicker of familiarity sharpened into a blade.
She turned, and our eyes met.
It was like a punch to the chest. Amber eyes, steady and burning, locked onto mine. The world tilted—not dramatically, but just enough to unsettle. The sound of the club faded to static, leaving only the echo of her gaze. Most people couldn’t hold my stare for long. They faltered, betrayed by fear or hesitation. But not her. Her gaze didn’t waver, calm and unflinching, carrying the weight of someone who had seen fire and wasn’t afraid of its heat.
And then it was over. She turned on her heel and walked away, her steps measured but deliberate, each one pulling her further from me and the questions she’d left in her wake.
I stood frozen, the faint thrum of static in my ears replaced by the pounding of my pulse. Who was she? And why did it feel like I already knew the answer?
The door closed behind her, and the spell snapped. I flexed my fingers, the tension coiled in my chest refusing to ease. Familiarity. Foreignness. Recognition. They tangled together in a way that didn’t make sense.
I needed answers. And Ava Langley wasn’t going to give them up easily.
*
The night dragged on, the Velvet Inferno’s rhythm relentless, but her presence lingered like a shadow I couldn’t shake. Even hours later, as I stood on the balcony of my penthouse, the memory of her gaze refused to leave me. The city glittered below, a deceptive illusion of beauty hiding the cracks beneath. The rain had stopped, leaving the air crisp, but no amount of clarity outside could calm the storm inside me.
I rested my hand on the railing, the cold metal grounding me. Ava Langley. The name fit her like a poorly tailored lie. I knew masks when I saw them, and hers was no exception. She’d slipped into my world with the precision of someone who knew exactly what she was doing. And whether she was a threat, a distraction, or something else entirely, I intended to find out.
Because she wasn’t just another dancer. She was a question.
And questions demanded answers.
