Just silk.
And steel.
And a trap that never lets her leave.
I light another cigarette. The smoke curls through the dim room, weaving itself through the scent of blood, petrol, and dust—everything sacred. Everything mine.
Vex twitches in her glass kingdom, tilting just slightly toward me, like she’s listening.
“You remember that night?” I murmur, eyes unfocused, still watching Raven on the monitor. “The one where she wore the black dress and pretended she didn’t know I was watching?”
I close my eyes.
And it hits like a gunshot.
FLASHBACK — TWO MONTHS AGO
Rain. Neon. Her heels click against the pavement like a countdown to something holy.
She’s laughing—soft, distracted—as she exits the bar with that fucking bartender. The one who thinks because he remembers her drink order, he gets to touch her.
He puts a hand on her back. Lower than her spine. Too familiar. Too casual.
And she lets him.
I watch from across the street, half-shielded by the shadow of a crumbling awning, my fists clenched in the pockets of my coat.
Her head tips back when he says something stupid and charming. She laughs as if it means nothing.
But to me?
It’s treason.
I watch him touch my girl.
I watch her smile at him.
And something inside me splits.
Not a crack.
A shatter.
I don’t remember crossing the street. Only the moment I’m standing right behind him, breathing in her perfume like a drowning man gasping for oxygen.
She doesn’t see me.
He doesn’t hear me.
But I hear everything.
“Thanks for walking me out,” she says, reaching for her keys. Her fingers are shaking slightly.
She always shakes when she’s uncomfortable. When she doesn’t want to be touched but doesn’t want to make a scene.
He leans in.
And I nearly killed him.
