Clubbing Trouble 2

The voice cut through the din of the club, low and dangerous, laced with barely-contained irritation. The brothers turned their heads, as did the girls, catching sight of the man who had spoken.

He stood just a few feet away from their booth, arms crossed over a broad chest, his figure backlit by the neon lights flashing in shades of purple and blue. He was tall and athletic, with a build that suggested a dedication to hours at the gym. A tight black T-shirt clung to his frame, emphasizing his toned muscles. His jaw was clenched, and his dark eyes narrowed, staring directly at Ebilade with a fierce intensity. A faint scar ran down his left eyebrow, adding to his rough appearance, while a silver chain around his neck caught the club lights as he moved.