Page 56 of Through Any Fire (Any x #1)

“There’s a bar on that side,” Jenna yells over the thrum of music, pointing to a compact bar with a line forming already. “But if you just want your whiskey, we can steal some of the good stuff from Jude’s office.”

“Yes, let’s do that.” I didn’t want to waste my night standing in line when I just planned on getting a whiskey, anyway.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” I direct to Mason, who’s already looking around the room like he’s got stars in his eyes.

He doesn’t answer, so I nudge his shoulder, snapping his attention to me.

“Yeah, yeah.” He folds into the crowd that’s forming, and I have to take a deep breath.

He’ll be fine.

“He’ll be fine,” Jenna says, reading my mind and leading me to Jude’s office. She covers her hand over the keypad, keeping the code safe from wandering eyes, and then we slip inside. The music immediately deafens, and I crack my jaw open, trying to pop my ears.

“Goddamn, it’s loud out there.”

Jenna cringes. “Yeah, I should’ve warned you. Sorry about that.”

I wave her off, taking in Jude’s office.

It’s nearly identical to the one upstairs.

And by that, I mean it’s boring as fuck.

There’s a brown desk with a black office chair and a lamp in the corner.

The only difference with this office is there’s a bar cart off to the side and a couch next to it.

There’s a window that shows the ring just outside, but the shutters are mostly closed, offering relative privacy.

Jenna pours me a drink while I peek through the shutters.

“Damn, it’s packed out there.”

Jenna hands me the glass, and it’s icy in my palm. The amber liquid is rich, a delicate heat burning my throat with each sip. She has a glass of red wine and perches on the edge of the desk.

“Yeah, we rarely have two fights so close together, but tonight was a special occasion.”

“Oh yeah? For what?”

Jenna doesn’t answer. I look at her over my shoulder, and she just mimes locking her lips and throwing away the key .

Okay. Whatever that means.

I slam the rest of the whiskey back, and the heat washes through my limbs. Without a second thought, I slip out of the leather jacket and drape it over the back of the couch. “Ready?”

Jenna takes a healthy swig of her drink and nods. “By the way, if you ever need to get in here, the code is 0317.”

0317? “That’s random.”

A flush stains her cheeks, and her eyes drop from mine. “It’s the day we met.”

“Oh, my god, that’s so cute.” Shock stuns me. “I didn’t know Jude could be that sentimental.”

Jenna laughs, a tinkling, infectious bubble that has me joining in easily.

“Come on, let’s go.” She links her arm through mine again, and we exit the office.

The door locks behind us, and we’re immediately pressed into the suffocating heat of a hundred bodies. It’s a mix between women wearing next to nothing and men who look like they’d eat me for breakfast.

She tugs me along until we reach a dance floor.

I guess while they wait for the fights to start, people work off their bad days here.

A wide berth surrounds us wherever we go, and at first, I think nothing of it.

When we get to the dance floor, we move to the beat and lose ourselves in the house music.

A sheen of sweat covers my exposed skin, and I feel freer than I have in a long time.

Mason was safe, Alice was safe—scarred, but safe.

A grateful smile curls my lips, and my face tilts toward the ceiling.

The bass thrums over my skin, pounding against my eardrums, but I’m acclimating.

It’s then that I realize there’s a noticeable bubble surrounding us, as if no one dares get in our personal space.

Seriously, I can extend both arms out straight and wouldn’t touch a single person besides Jenna.

In a packed basement like this, it’s an oddity.

“Do we smell?” I joke, although I’m grateful that strangers aren’t pressing against me. But seriously, this is weird.

Jenna winces. “Jude’s broken a few noses and fingers for touching ‘what was his.’” She uses air quotes around that last part.

When I finally get it, I double over in laughter. “Holy shit, only Jude would do that.” A stitch forms in my side.

“Not just Jude.” Jenna points her chin over my shoulder.

What?

I spin on my heel, and there he is.

Callahan Keane. My husband.

He watches with a burning lust that rakes over my skin, goosebumps breaking out the longer he stares. He doesn’t move, just stands with his arms crossed over his chest and a gleam in his eyes that tells me he’s been standing there for longer than I realize.

A forceful push from Jenna breaks me from my stupor. I stumble forward. In a flash, Cal catches me, just like he always has.

His hands slide down my arms to my waist, tugging me against his chest. When we’re breaths apart, I finally speak. “I need to hear you say it to my face.”

Cal deflates under my palms. His brown eyes twinkle with emotion, but this time, we don’t run .

“I’m sorry, Ren. I’m so fucking sorry.”