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“Take me with you,” I whisper, then find my voice. “I don’t want to die.”
Chapter 31
Present day
My phone flashes with a message from Ben. He’s been updating me on the progress of their search for Jenya and Koschei for the past week. I don’t care and I don’t want to be a part of it. I leave him on read. I haven’t replied to a single message after I got my phone back from Sophie. Apparently, no one wanted to steal it from the mall parking lot, so it was just where the kidnappers left it after they drugged me.
The massive black car with tinted windows is idling on the back street again. For the past seven days, it has switched places with a smaller silver car, and a longer white car at equal intervals. I’m not sure who’s inside.
It’s either Damien and my friends protecting me, or Ben and the Arcana, or, most likely, Jenya has told Koschei where I work and he sent someone to pick me up.
The joke’s on them because I’m not leaving Love and Err until I figure out what to do next, and they don’t have the guts to storm a known gang property.
“You know, customers are going to notice that you’re cycling through three dresses. Why don’t you go home, rest up, and change?” Luisa passes me tonight’s cranberry shot.
“It’s not that obvious,” I say and tip it up, letting the cold liquid start a fire in my chest. I’ve been living in the club—sleeping, eating, showering. It’s equipped for any domestic situation, so why would I put myself in danger?
Plus, I’ve been very discreet about it; I’ve been doing my job as normal, and I haven’t told anyone about what happened. It’s hard enough to process on my own, without people’s opinions in the mix. Every time I close my eyes, the fiery outline of the compound appears, together with everyone I doomed with my betrayal. Sometimes, my mind likes to switch it up and I see another nightmare—pushing Valerie to her death or feeding Duke Hazelton gravel. All of these decisions were supposed to be good, righteous choices. In my head, I don’t regret them, but somewhere deep inside, I know I’m a bad, broken person. A normal person would have shied away from the violence that runs free in my life, like dark ink on smooth paper. It’s unavoidable. Even if I try my best to live a quiet existence, it finds a way around.
“Anyway, Sophie wants to talk to you. They’re in the East Asian Room,” Luisa says. Thank fuck she doesn’t push me any more to go home.
“Pass,” I reply.
“It didn’t sound like a suggestion.”
I roll my eyes and head for the East Asian Room. I’m exhausted, but I know I won’t be able to sleep properly, so whatever. I’ll hear her out.
As I step in, my brows furrow. Sophie, Damien, and Mathias sit cross-legged on the tatami-matted floor and sip tea in small clay cups. I kick my heels to the corner and get comfortable around the low table, my eyes narrowing more and more with each passing second.
“What is this?” I ask after my butt is resting on a bright red pillow.
“An intervention.” Damien’s voice is soft and mellow, but to me it sounds condescending.
I keep quiet. From whatever pop culture content I’ve consumed, I know if your friends stage an intervention, you’re supposed to listen and take it. Then agree and do things your way anyway.
“We’re worried about you,” Mathias says. “Do you want to talk to us about what happened last week?”
“Which part?” I try to keep my voice calm.
“Any part you feel comfortable sharing,” Mathias continues.
“I’m entirely uncomfortable right now,” I groan. “So why don’t you tell me what has got you so worried? I’ll reply and then we can be done with this.”
“Told you it wasn’t going to work,” Sophie says to Damien, gesturing toward me with an open palm.
“Okay, here are the facts.” Mathias puts his hands on both Damien and Sophie, shushing them. “Things were going well after The Jesters were defeated, weren’t they? You and I said we didn’t want to involve ourselves in the gang stuff too much and we’re reasonably uninvolved.”
Sophie nods. It’s true. She let us choose. But for me, who was fed violence like mother’s milk, what options are there? I thought I could be a club manager, sans all the gang stuff, but look at what happened.
“And things will go well again,” I say without much conviction. “What’s your point?”
“The appearance of ‘little you’ shook you a bit. We get that. Things got messy. You got kidnapped, you got rescued, you’re here with us again.”
“I rescued myself, for the record.” My temper is starting to flare.
“Yes, that’s exactly it. You came back as if nothing happened. You don’t want to open up about it. You’re not letting us help. Suffering in silence all alone and shouldering all the weight isn’t healthy,” Mathias says in his annoying calm doctor’s voice.
“There’s nothing to open up about. Things got fucked up again. I will deal with them and I’ll be fine. I always survive. You’ve known me for years. Do you really think an ‘intervention’ will change how I live?”
