Chapter 2: Missed Buses and Late Night Shifts

Angel’s pov

Six hours later, I was still thinking about those blue eyes.

Which pissed me off almost as much as missing the last bus.

My umbrella had given up any pretense of being useful about ten minutes ago. Rain poured down in sheets, splashing icy water around my ankles and soaking through my cheap coat like it was made of tissue paper. I shook my feet uselessly, wincing at the squelching sound my shoes made.

Ruined. Those were definitely ruined.

I checked my phone for the fifth time in thirty seconds. 12:47 AM.

Of course.

I was late. So incredibly late. Sasha was going to murder me, and honestly? I might let him at this point.

Three hours of grading essays for Professor Chen—who thinks "building character" means keeping his TA late while he goes drinking with his buddies—and for what? A scholarship that barely covered half my tuition?

"Wouldn't be doing this shit if I didn't need that damn money," I muttered, kicking at the puddle in front of me like it had personally offended me.

Headlights appeared down the road.

Relief hit me so fast I actually felt dizzy.

"Oh thank God." I stepped forward, waving my arm like a lunatic. "Yes. YES. Come on, please—"

The vehicle got closer.

Faster.

Too fast.

My smile died.

"Oh no. Oh you have got to be—"

The car blasted past me, plowing through a massive puddle and sending a wave of filthy, freezing water straight up my legs.

I gasped, now soaked from the knees down, staring after the disappearing taillights.

For a moment, I just stood there. Shaking. Dripping. My useless umbrella dangling from one hand.

"I hope you stall," I whispered sweetly to the empty road. "In traffic. During a storm. With explosive diarrhea."

I dragged a hand through my soaked hair and blinked rain out of my eyes.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

Another engine sound purred through the downpour—low and expensive.

I didn't look up right away, too frustrated to deal with another fake-out. If this was another asshole about to drench me, I might actually commit violence.

A sleek black car pulled up to the curb. Smooth. Pristine. Completely untouched by the weather, like it existed in its own climate-controlled bubble.

Of course.

I narrowed my eyes as the window slid down, already preparing to tell whoever this was to fuck off—

A very familiar face appeared in the opening.

No.

I actually closed my eyes. "No no no no—"

"Rough night?"

My eyes snapped open.

Jason Beauregard sat behind the wheel, looking completely dry and annoyingly perfect, his blonde hair artfully mussed like he'd just stepped out of a cologne ad. That slow, knowing smile spread across his face as he took in my drowned-rat appearance.

"Ugh! What do you want, Jason?" I didn't even try to keep the irritation out of my voice.

"Oh, she knows my name." He sounded delighted. "And here I thought I was just 'that guy you keep glaring at.'"

"I know everyone's name. It's called paying attention."

"My friends call me Jace, actually."

"Good for them."

His grin widened. "Get in. I'll take you wherever you need to go."

I looked down the empty, rain-soaked street. Then back at him and his warm, dry car.

My pride warred with my common sense.

Common sense won. Barely.

"Fine. But you're just dropping me off. I'm not going home with you or whatever scenario you've got playing in your head."

Something flickered in his eyes—offense? Amusement? "I'm not pathetic enough to corner a girl into something she doesn't want, Angel." His voice had an edge now. "You need a ride. I'm offering one. That's it."

I studied him for a second, then made my decision.

I walked around to the passenger side and slid in, tossing my soaked coat and useless umbrella into the backseat.

The heat hit me immediately.

God, it was like stepping into heaven. Warm leather seats, that new car smell mixed with something else—expensive cologne? The air itself felt softer in here, like even the atmosphere knew it was expensive.

I let my eyes close for just a second, just to absorb the warmth.

When I opened them, he was staring at me.

Not in a creepy way. More like... mesmerized.

His eyes were even more blue up close. Stupidly blue. The kind of blue that probably got him out of speeding tickets and into anywhere he wanted. His hair had that deliberately messy thing going on that only happened with expensive products and genetic luck.

The whole car smelled like him—something woody and clean with an underlying sweetness that shouldn't have worked but did.

I'd expected him to smell like wet dog, honestly.

"Where to?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

I tore my gaze away and fiddled with the heat controls, cranking them higher. "The Scarlet District. Silk & Skin."

I gave him the address and watched his reaction out of the corner of my eye.

His shoulders went rigid. Jaw tight. His hands gripped the steering wheel harder, knuckles going slightly white. Something dark flickered across his face—there and gone so fast I almost missed it.

Yeah. He knew what that address meant.

Scholarship student, no designer labels, working late as a TA—I wasn't going to the Scarlet District for fun. I couldn't afford fun. I was going there because it paid my bills.

"Problem?" I asked, daring him to say something.

"That area's..." He chose his words carefully. "Rough. Didn't expect you to have business there."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. I just—" He glanced at me, then back at the road. "I didn't picture you working in that part of town."

"How about you save the judgment for when you start paying my rent?" I crossed my arms. "Yeah?"

"I'm not judging you." He said it quickly, firmly. "What you do with your life is your business. I'm just—" He paused. "That district isn't safe. Especially not alone. Especially not this late."

I snorted. "I've been working there for two years. I think I can handle it."

"You're alone. It's after midnight. It only takes one bad night for things to go wrong." His voice had gone serious. Almost worried. "That place eats people alive, Angel."

"Well, that's comforting." I shot him a look. "If you're too scared to drive me, you can drop me at the next corner."

"I'm not scared."

"Could've fooled me."

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then closed it again. Smart.

Silence settled between us as he drove, thick and charged with things neither of us were saying.

The city transformed around us as we got closer—neon signs reflecting off wet pavement, buildings getting progressively shabbier, shadows growing longer and darker. This was the part of town where people came to lose themselves. Or get lost.

We pulled up outside Silk & Skin.

Even from the car, you could hear the bass thumping. See the pulsing lights. The chrome sculpture out front—a woman on all fours, back arched in unmistakable invitation—left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

My hand was on the door handle before he'd even fully stopped.

"Wait."

I sighed. "If you're about to lecture me—"

"Give me your number."

I blinked at him. "What?"

"Your number. I want to make sure you're safe."

A laugh burst out of me. "You barely know me."

"Doesn't mean I can't worry."

There was something in his eyes when he said it. Something honest and a little desperate that made my stomach do an unwelcome flip.

Damn it.

"Fine." I unlocked my phone and handed it to him. "But this doesn't mean—"

He took it from me so quickly I didn't finish my sentence. His hands were actually trembling as he typed, fingers moving fast like he was afraid I'd snatch the phone back.

"I'll check in," he said, still typing. "Tonight. Just to make sure you're okay."

"I can take care of myself."

"I know." He handed my phone back, his eyes locking with mine. "But let me worry anyway."

The warmth in the car suddenly felt suffocating.

I grabbed my coat from the backseat and opened the door, cold air rushing in.

"Angel—"

I paused, looking back.

"Be careful in there," he said softly. "Please."

Something in his voice made my chest tight.

"I'm always careful," I lied.

Then I shut the door and walked toward the entrance without looking back.

The club swallowed me up—neon and noise and the familiar smell of sweat and expensive perfume.

I didn't see the way Jace's expression changed as he watched me disappear inside.

Didn't see the easy smile melt off his face like a mask being peeled away, the innocent golden retriever puppy act washing off his face like dirt down the drain.

Didn't see the darkness that replaced it—something cold and calculating and far more dangerous than the boy who'd offered me a ride.

But I felt it.

That crawling sensation of being watched. Being wanted in a way that had nothing to do with safety.

The club I'd just walked into was owned by one of the most dangerous families in the city.

And Jason Beauregard belonged to their biggest rival.