“Just so you know, I poisoned the biker.”
Ria strolls in casually, her voice dripping with cheer. A little too much cheer. Like she didn’t just confess to fucking murder.
My hand stills over my tea, spoon clattering against the porcelain. “What? The guy watching you?”
She shrugs, tossing her coat onto the pink couch carelessly. “No, not the watchdog.” Her fingers flick dismissively, like she’s shooing away a fly. “Soul Sucker Supreme. He came by to leave these for you.”
Keys and an envelope hit the counter with a metallic clink. “Said something about the cabin by the lake being yours now. He took his shit out.”
My hands shake as I reach for them, fingertips grazing the cold metal. A shockwave runs through me, and I drop them like they’re made of acid. I can almost feel the walls of that place closing in, suffocating. His hands on me. His mouth. The promises never spoken. The silent lies. I force down the bile clawing its way up my throat.
“I… I can’t deal with this right now,” I whisper.
Ria, completely unbothered, scoops up the keys and the envelope without a second thought. She marches over to one of her hanging planters, and shoves them behind a wall of greenery.
“There,” she says, dusting off her hands. “Out of sight, out of mind. They’ll be here whenever you want them back.”
Whenever I want them back.I can’t go back to that place. Not now. Maybe not ever. My skin itches just thinking about it — those walls that hold too many memories. Ghosts.
Wait. Did she say she poisoned Ghost? My mind instantly flashes to her fuzzy pink darts, the ones I found a few days ago.
A feeling I refuse to acknowledge crackles under my skin. “Ria… what exactly did you do to Ghost?”
She rolls her eyes and flicks her wrist, like poisoning someone is just another Tuesday.
“No worries. He’ll live. I’m not about to deal with a mob of leather-clad cavemen banging on my door. But for the next few hours?” Her grin stretches wide, wolfish. “He’ll have one hell of a time.”
I blink, half in disbelief, half in awe. “You are a fucking menace.”
The smile drops, her eyes thinning into hard slits. “Some people deserve to have their asses handed to them in ways that last. Sometimes a punch just isn’t enough.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, chin lifting defiantly. “I get it, Adora. He went through hell. But while you were fighting for survival alone, he had a goddamn army at his back. A family. People who would go to war for him. So don’t feel sorry for him. Don’t you fucking dare.” Her finger wags in my face so fast I get dizzy for a moment.
My lips curl into a smile. A little too fake. “I won’t. I promise.” As much as I want those words to be true, I can’t stop the small stab of pain that pierces through my heart.
Her grin snaps back instantly. “Good.”
She claps her hands together, practically vibrating with energy. “Now,” she beams, “you’re going to meet my friends the day after tomorrow. You’ll love them. They hate the bikers too.”
She stops, head tilting, eyes narrowing in thought. “I should probably start a support group. Biker Victims Anonymous,” she mumbles to herself, but I hear it.
The laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it, the sound rough, almost like it’s been too eager to claw out of my lungs. “Aren’t you dating Tank?”
Her face drains of color so fast I almost feel bad. She shakes her head wildly, curls bouncing like they’re having a fit.
“What? No. No dating. Why would you even say that?” Her voice pitches high, borderline hysterical. “We’re just... you know... sleeping together. That’s it. No dating. Zero dating. None whatsoever.”
My laughter dies instantly, but the smirk stays.
“Okay, I believe you,” I lie.
She’s clearly not ready to admit it to herself.
The morning I’m supposed to meet Ria’s friends, I’m in the kitchen, fists clenched around a mug of coffee gone cold. I haven’t taken a single sip. I’ve just been staring into the black like it holds any kind of answers.
It’s one ofthosedays. The kind where the whispers are loud and relentless, slithering through the cracks of my mind. Echoing my worst fears. Telling me I’m not enough. That I’ll fuck this up too. That no matter how far I get, I’ll always bethat broken thing hiding behind a smile. I swear I can feel them crawling under my skin like maggots.
I feel fucking worthless. Empty. Like if I vanished right now, no one would blink. Ghost’s voice won’t shut up — it’s on repeat, drilling into my skull, louder than everything else. And there’s this ache in me. This pathetic, clawing thing that wants to reach out and beg. Beg him to show up. To walk through that door and say it was just a bad joke. Wrap me up in his arms and tell me he loves me. Tell me our life together is still real. Tell me it’s not over.
