Roy’s POV
The city lights blurred past as Ryan and I moved through the streets, our focus singular. Brighton had been hiding in plain sight for too long, and tonight, we were going to make him answer. The club was loud, bass rattling through the walls, but we didn’t care. Ryan’s grip on my shoulder was firm, and I could feel his pulse thrumming in sync with mine.
We spotted Brighton almost immediately, lounging at a VIP table, drink in hand, smirk permanently plastered on his face. He didn’t even glance our way at first, as if he couldn’t care less.
“That’s him,” Ryan murmured, eyes cold and calculating.
I nodded, my jaw tightening. I hated how calm he looked. He shouldn’t be calm. Not after everything. Not after the terror he’d brought into Hailey’s life.
We moved in with precision.
