DARRAGH'S POV

I pushed open the pub doors and stepped into a wall of noise and heat. Liquor fumes mingled with sweat and cheap cologne in the amber-lit space. The crowd wasn't exactly the country club type—more the sort who settled arguments with fists rather than words. My gaze swept across the room until I spotted her.

Ciara sat slumped on a barstool, hair tumbling wildly around her face. Her cheeks were flushed pink, eyes half-lidded as she swayed slightly to music only she could hear. But ...