Both can rot together.
“Gringo,” I answer.
His mouth twitches. Not a smile. He knows better.
Nico looks between us and suddenly discovers somewhere else to be. Darling doesn’t move. Diablo doesn’t either.
Shady’s eyes flick to my wrists. The black cuffs. The careful lie.
His face goes darker.
“Don’t,” I say.
His gaze lifts. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking loud.”
“Hard habit to break, baby.”
“You thinking or being loud?”
“Yes.”
Despite everything, a laugh almost climbs out of me. I kill it.
He sees that too.
“I’m not here to stop you,” he says.
“That a new hobby?”
“Trying it out. Feels like shit.”
“Good.”
His eyes burn. “Yeah. Figured you’d like that.”
A shout rises from the main room. My name. Then another. Chanting starts, half supportive, half bloodthirsty. Lady. Lady. Lady.
The stage wants me.
The gossip wants me.
Shady wants me.
Only one of those gets fed tonight.
I step toward him. Darling tenses, but I lift two fingers at my side. I’m fine. I’m not fine. Same dress, different lighting.
Shady stays still.
I stop close enough to smell him. Smoke. Leather. Soap. Blood under clean clothes. My body pulls toward him with embarrassing loyalty.
“Where do you want me?” he asks.
The question hits harder than a command ever could have.
Not come here.
