She doesn’t say anything else for a long, agonizing stretch of silence. Just stares and blinks. Like my life story was a slap toher face. Then she grabs the bottle of wine sitting between us and tips it straight into my glass. Fills it to the fucking brim.
“Umm, I’m sorry to upset you,” I say, gripping the glass like it might save me, trying and failing not to spill any on her kitchen table. “But you insisted that you wanted to know the whole fucked-up story.”
Her hand tightens around the neck of the bottle, fingers going white.
“Oh, I’m not upset,” she says sweetly. “I’m fucking furious,” she erupts. “What the hell is wrong with that club? All that stupid asshole had to do was talk to you. One would think he would’ve learned a thing or two from his idiot brother,” she mumbles, eyes darkening, jaw clenched.
I blink, a little stunned by the fire behind her gaze.
She leans back, practically vibrating with rage. I take another long drink, watching her with wide eyes, seeing her unravel, one thread at a time. It’s fascinating.
“Shit,” she finally breathes out, her voice almost a whisper. “I have to tell you, honest to God, I didn’t know what to think when Ria said she was bringing you over. She didn’t tell me anything. And you’re kind of a legend in that club.”
A humorless, bitter laugh escapes her. “From the bits and pieces I knew, the story wasn’t pretty. And you were the villain. But damn, I didn’t expect all of that.”
We got to her place two hours ago. The introduction was awkward and stiff. Then she dragged me into the kitchen, poured a drink, and demanded I spill everything.Everything.I didn’t want to, not really. But Temperance is… intense. And a little scary. Okay — a lot fucking scary. So I told her. All of it. Didn’t spare a single detail.
“I did give the testimony against him to the policeandin court,” I whisper, fingers curling tight around the stem of my glass.
I feel my chest tighten. I thought I was done with the guilt. I thought I’d buried it deep enough that it wouldn’t crawl back up. Clearly, I was wrong. I need to deal with that once and for all.
Temperance looks at me like I’ve just sprouted another head. Her mouth drops open slightly before she snaps it shut.
“So what?” she spits. “You were a kid. What the hell were you supposed to do? You didn’t plant those drugs on him. A testimony is just words. They needed evidence to back it up.”
She leans forward, eyes burning with something cold. It sends a chill down my spine.
“Listen here, Adora. I can see it in you. It’s plain as fucking day. Life has beaten you down, ground you into submission. It’s why Ghost’s twisted little revenge plan worked so perfectly. You need to toughen the hell up if you want to survive. If you want things to change.” Her voice is low, lethal. “It’s a war, and if you don’t start fighting, the bad shit’s gonna win. And it won’t leave room for anything good.”
She nods once, like she delivered a sermon and expects me to confess my sins. Takes a long drink from her own glass, eyes narrowed and waiting. Daring me to disagree.
“You sound like my therapist. Just with a lot more swear words,” I mumble, half-heartedly.
I tip back half my wine and let the burn simmer down my throat. But her words crackle through me like wildfire. Because she’s right, isn’t she? I’ve been living my life like a lamb led to slaughter. Accepting everything bad as if it’s my due. Like I deserve it. Like I’m not worthy of anything good. That thought shakes something inside me, and I jolt in my seat. Shit.
Temperance’s gaze sharpens. She leans back, swirling the wine in her glass with a slow, practiced motion. “What are you going to do to him?”
I blink. “What?”
“To Ghost,” she clarifies, eyes narrowing with a predatory gleam. “What are you going to do to him?”
“Nothing,” I say immediately, brows knitting together. “I’m not going to do anything to him. He followed me around for some time, and I ignored him.” I pause. Chuckle. “Ighostedhim. Might have threatened him with a taser,” I smirk, remembering the look on his face. “That made him back off. He hasn’t followed me in a while.”
She scoffs, full of disbelief. “That’s what you think,” she mutters, taking a long drink from her glass. “I bet he’s still lurking around. You just don’t see him.”
The idea slams into me like a fist to the gut. I hadn’t even considered it.
“You should just taser him,” she continues casually. “That might actually teach him a lesson.”
She pauses, eyes going wide, almost comically so. “Shit. My therapist would be so disappointed if she heard me say that.” A laugh bubbles up, unrestrained, but it dies quickly.
“You should focus on you for now,” she says, voice dropping to a whisper. “Forget the asshole. You need to take care of yourself.”
Her eyes cut through me, dissecting, peeling back layers of my soul.
“You still feel something for him, don’t you?”
The question cuts straight through my heart. I snap my spine straight, defensive. “It’ll pass,” I growl.
