The words linger, bitter on my tongue, long after she’s wandered off to refill my glass.
I’ve got no idea what time it is or how many whiskeys I’ve sunk. The world blurs and spins, the sharp edges of the day softening into nothing but noise and neon. I’ve spent all my life living within strict parameters. Workout. Endless meetings. Endless women. Tear down a company. Build it back up. Stack enough money to last three lifetimes — and for what? For this? Surely this isn’t living?
I used to think Violet made me weak. I was lying to myself. She makes me strong. Invincible. Like I can take on the whole damn world with her by my side.
It’s losing her that makes me weak.
A voice pierces through the haze, soft and suggestive.
“Come with me. I’ll make you feel better.”
I blink, lifting my head — but Lacey’s gone. A stranger’s moving behind the bar now, wiping down glasses. But I swear I heard her talk.
A hand slides across my thigh, fingers curling toward my groin, the firm touch laced with desperation.
“I know somewhere quiet, Chase. You need to blow off some steam, and I’ve got the perfect antidote.” Lacey’s face swims into view beside me. Her hooded eyes become four, then three, her features distorting into a fiendish leer. Her mouth grazes my ear, her voice a promise. “I’m ready, Chase, to suck you real good.”
Her eyes gleam with heat as I scrape the stool back to stand, chucking a few hundred dollars on the counter to cover the bill. She walks ahead, hips swaying, glancing back with a smirk as if she’s reeled me in. She thinks she has me. But all she’s done is make me realize I need to get the fuck out of this place before it sucks the soul out of me completely. I ignore her as she calls out to me. I stagger toward the exit, eyes locked on the green glowabove the door like it’s the only thing anchoring me. Cool air seeps through the crack, filling my lungs — a small reminder that life still exists outside these walls.
I’m one step away from freedom when a shadow moves into my path.
Elliot.
Dressed head to toe in black, like the fucking grim reaper.
Before the thought even fully forms, I’ve got him by the throat, slamming him against the wall. His hands claw at my wrist, gurgling and choking on every ragged breath — and all I can do is squeeze tighter.
“Why do you always need to take what’s mine?” I grind the words through clenched teeth. “What happened, Elliot? Mommy too drunk to give you enough cuddles.? Or was Daddy too busy screwing the nanny to teach you how to be a man?”
It takes three bouncers to drag me off him. And only once I’m pinned back does the coward find his balls.
“At least I had a family,” he sneers, adjusting his collar like that’ll cover the bruises already blooming on his throat. “You can dress trash up in a suit, but it always rises to the surface. Eventually.”
The red haze blinds me. My muscles coil, ripping free of their grip like they were nothing, and I barrel into him. The sharp thud of his back hitting the wall wipes the smirk right off his face, and for a second, I swear I sense the fear rumble through him. It gives me a sick kind of satisfaction.
“By the time I’m done with you,” I breathe against his ear, low and lethal, “you’ll be pissing on your Gucci loafers like a scared little bitch.”
But then he finds it—the one card he knows I can’t fight against.
“This isn’t about me.” His tone is hoarse, but the smugness is unmistakable. “This is about Violet.”
Her name slams into me like a sucker punch. My grip slackens. My whole body goes cold, chest caving in around the one thing I’ve spent all day trying to drown in whiskey.
“What the fuck do you know about Violet?”
His mouth twists into something close to a smile, his confidence growing with every second I don’t hit him.
“I know she’s too good for you.”
My fists curl tight at my sides. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
“I think that’s her choice, don’t you?” he says, triumph oozing from every word. “I can’t help it if we have... a connection.”
The bouncers close in again, reading me like an open wound. They don’t need to hear the words to realize I’m seconds away from ripping him apart. One strong hand clamps around my shoulder, steering me back with silent force, and this time, I don’t resist.
Not because I’m done, but because I’ve got nothing left.
Outside, the night slaps cold against my face, sobering me for a moment. The whiskey’s beginning to sink deeper, thick and heavy in my veins. I step off the curb and wave down a yellow cab, my fingers unsteady as I pull the door open and sink into the back seat.
