She wrenched it back, desperate. Raw.
Her elbow slammed into his ribs. A sharp grunt. His grip faltered.
Her hand bled, warm and slick, but she held on. She had to.
The moment of hesitation was all she needed; she tore free, stumbling back. Legs unsteady. Breath ragged.
But she didn’t stop—didn’t look back.
She didn’t realize she was crying until she saw her reflection in the windshield.
Eyes wide. Cheeks streaked. Blood trailing down her arm.
Her hand throbbed; the pain tethered her.
She blinked, fogging the glass.
In the glow of the streetlight, something red caught her eye.
The rose.
It lay where it fell, broken open like a wound.
This time, she picked it up.
Blood smeared the edges as she closed her fingers around it.
The thorns bit deep, but she didn’t let go.
Her vision blurred. Still, she stared.
A terrible truth rooted itself.
Some shadows didn’t fade.
CHAPTER 1
Static & Smoke
Arden Rivers slipped behind the bar, her hands moving on muscle memory: cleaning glasses, straightening bottles, resetting for the next rush. The din of laughter, clinking drinks, and heavy boots on tired floorboards filled Dot’s; a racket she’d long since learned to tune out.
She glanced at the clock. Two more hours. Then she could swap the noise and fluorescent haze for the hush of her apartment—where quiet wasn’t a preference. It was survival.
Dot’s was a dive. Plain. Unapologetic.
The place reeked of old wood, fryer grease, and beer gone flat. Secrets lived in the walls, soaked into the floorboards like spilled whiskey and older regrets.
In the corner, the jukebox crooned something slow. Ache and smoke in every note. The song hung in the air, clinging to her skin like ashtray ghosts and sins no one paid for. It suited the regulars—men who drank to forget things they never admitted, not even to themselves.
This place never pretended to be more than it was. She respected that. Even when she hated it.
“You gonna stand there gawking, or you gonna earn that paycheck?” Dot grumbled from his usual corner, nursing the world’s most bitter cup of coffee.
Arden didn’t miss a beat. “Only basking in your warmth and charm, Dot. It’s… overwhelming.”
“Smartass,” he muttered, the twitch of his mouth giving him away. “Keep it up and I’ll start docking your pay for sarcasm.”
She tossed the bar towel over her shoulder. “I could start charging by the comeback. Might actually turn aprofit.”
