“I need to talk to her.” I stood, ignoring the way the room tilted slightly. The scotch and adrenaline were mixing into something combustible in my veins. “I need to—”
“You need to sober up first,” Drew said firmly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “And figure out what you’re going to say that won’t make things worse.”
He was right. I knew he was right. But every instinct I had was screaming at me to get back to that mansion. To make sure Barbara was safe. To tell her I knew the truth and I was going to help her whether she wanted it or not.
To tell her I was sorry for every assumption I’d made. Every accusation. Every moment I’d looked at her with anything less than understanding.
“Tomorrow,” Drew said, reading my expression. “Talk to her tomorrow when you’re thinking clearly. When you can actually help instead of just making things worse.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist I was fine, that I could handle this. But the blood seeping through the bar towel wrapped around my hand and the way the floor kept shifting beneath my feet suggested otherwise.
“Fine.” I sat back down heavily. “Tomorrow.”
But even as I agreed, even as Hailey poured me water and Damir started talking about something else to distract me, my mind was already racing ahead.
Planning. Strategizing. Figuring out how to help Barbara without breaking Vladimir’s promise.
Figuring out how to make Sebastian Davis pay for what he’d done without killing him.
Because one thing was certain: I wasn’t walking away from this. Wasn’t walking away from her.
Chapter 11 – Barbara
I sat wedged between Hailey and Cassandra in our usual booth, the one tucked in the corner where we could see everything but remain relatively hidden. The leather seat was sticky with spilled drinks from previous nights, and the air smelled like sweat and expensive perfume and desperation. Normally, I loved this place—the noise, the anonymity, the ability to disappear into the crowd.
Tonight, it felt suffocating.
“Okay, that’s it.” Hailey leaned forward, her dark eyes sharp with concern. “What’s wrong? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because you’ve been staring at that same drink for twenty minutes without touching it.”
I looked down at the whiskey in front of me—amber liquid catching the strobing lights, ice melting slowly into dilution. When had I ordered this? I couldn’t remember.
“Barbara.” Cassandra’s voice was softer but no less insistent. “Talk to us. You look lost. Upset. Like you’re barely holding it together.”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
“Bullshit.” Hailey crossed her arms. “You’ve been ‘fine’ for five years. How about you try being honest instead?”
The words hit harder than they should have. Because she was right. I’d been lying to everyone for so long that I’d forgotten what honest felt like. Forgotten what it meant to just say the truth and let the consequences fall where they may.
“It’s Sebastian,” I finally admitted, my voice barely audible over the music. “He’s—he’s escalating. Getting more aggressive. Demanding more money.”
“Then don’t give it to him,” Hailey said immediately. “Tell him to fuck off. Better yet, let us handle it. Cass and I can—”
“You can’t.” I cut her off, panic rising in my throat. “You don’t understand. He has—there are things you don’t know. Things I can’t—”
“Then tell us.” Cassandra reached over, squeezing my hand. “Whatever it is, we can help. But you have to let us in.”
I wanted to. God, I wanted to so badly it ached. Wanted to open my mouth and let everything spill out—the video, the blackmail, the five years of terror. Wanted to explain why I couldn’t just walk away, couldn’t just tell my father, couldn’t just be free.
But the words stuck in my throat, heavy as stones.
“If you need money,” Hailey said, her voice going gentle in a way that made my eyes burn, “you can take it from both of us. Whatever you need. And then you can shove it up your brother’s ass along with our collective middle fingers.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled. Almost. “It’s not about the money.”
“Then what is it about?”
I didn’t have an answer. Or rather, I had too many answers, and none of them were ones I could say out loud without everything crumbling.
