She told me about the sixteen years of nights locked behind a door, listening to all the screams, cries, or moans until she fell asleep. Waiting for that familiar click of the lock turning, signaling that she could be free, then they would go to the diner down the street for breakfast since her mom had the money.
That was until the morning that her mom never unlocked the door. She cried and begged for her mom to open it for most of the day. She eventually broke it down herself, only to find her mom on the floor, blood pooled around her, eyes vacant, her pale hand clutching two hundred dollars.
I’d told her to leave that place. Pack up. Go somewhere,anywhereelse.
She had shrugged as her eyes slid away from me, changing the subject to how the apartment was in the only rent-controlled building in the territory. Any time I pushed her on the subject, she would snap back at me that this was her home and she knew nothing else.
So instead, she filled her nights with fun and excitement, always staying out until exhaustion dragged her home, until she could drop into bed and be asleep before her memories had time to haunt her.
Then Nathan, her knight in stalker armor, showed up and swept her off her feet. That's when she started to spend her nights at his place instead of her own.
Now, standing in front of me, she read the look on my face and tried to brush it off again.
“It’s fine,” she said, flashing a quick, crooked smile. “I know you didn’t mean anything.”
Her fingers tightened around my arm just a little before loosening again. My gaze dropped to the pavement as shame filled my soul.
“Come have a drink with me,” she said, already tugging me toward the club behind her.
My head snapped up as I remembered Manshu was going to be there soon. That thought alone made my feet lock in place. I shook my head, pulling back just enough to stop her forward momentum.
“No.”
“Comeon,” she whined, giving my arm another tug, but I didn’t budge.
The music from the club thudded behind her, lights flashing through the open doors as bodies moved inside.
“No,” I repeated, firmer. Nothing good was waiting for me in there tonight.
She huffed, then shifted tactics, stepping back just enough to face me fully. Her expression changed—less playful, more focused.
“You told me we could do what I wanted tonight, and I want to celebrate your win.” That damn award-winning pout she’d mastered as a kid followed it, her bottom lip pushing out just enough to make it hard to ignore.
I pointed at her, narrowing my eyes. “That’s not fair, and you know it.” Rolling my shoulders at my own discomfort, I gave hera small shrug. “And it’s notmywin.” Even though he’d needed my brain and hands to make it happen.
“Olivia.”
My name landed sharp, and I stilled. She didn’t use my full first name unless she meant it.
“Youmade that happen.” She locked eyes with me, making sure I heard each word clearly. “You don’t get to pretend it’s not yours.”
Before I could argue, she hooked both arms through mine and started pulling me along, steering me away from the supe club and down the sidewalk.
“You’re having one drink with me,” she added, moving with purpose. “And that’s final.”
“Lark, I don’t want to go to another supe?—”
“There’s a human bar,” she cut in quickly, not even slowing down. “Right around the corner.”
She glanced back at me, a quick grin flashing.
“Well, mostly human. Most supes don’t want to go in unless they have a human partner.”
“Or they're looking for one,” I casually added, which earned me the stink eye.
How much harm could a mostly human bar be?I let her drag me along.
The building came into view. The old, worn down wooden sign above the door was hanging slightly crooked, the name—Rokwood Bar—barely readable under the chipped paint.
