The rope falls, the door swings wide, and I walk into the dark.
Inside, the air presses in. Everything is low-lit and deliberate, curated to feel secretive. Music pulses from the walls.
I don’t hang about.
I cut through a corridor lined with smoked mirrors and no reflections I want to see and step into something that looks like a red-lit fever dream. Booths sunken into walls, half-pulled curtains hiding sins no one’s pretending to regret. Champagne is sweating in silver buckets, glittering watches are flashing as hands wander. Laughter pitched just low enough to make you wonder what it’s covering. It’s a depraved playground where bad behaviour’s the whole fucking point, so they don’t bother pretending to be good.
There’s Kit, lounging like a Roman emperor mid-orgy. Centre of his own little solar system. Shirt half undone, mouth curled as if he’s said something clever. High as a fucking kite. He’s got a hand on a girl’s knee and another wrapped around a whisky tumbler.
Probably paid for with that fucking sex tape he made of me, Millie, and Olivia.
My vision tunnels, and pressure needles the backs of my eyeballs. The bass drops out, and all I feel is the grind of my teeth and the throbbing urge to drive him through the wall.
He sees me, eventually. The second I step into his line of sight, the grin twitches.
‘Well, well. Scotland’s favourite redemption story,’ he drawls, like we’re old pals grabbing pints after training. ‘Didn’t think you’d be allowed in here, old chap. Dress code and all that.’
‘We need to talk.’
He pushes up from the booth in that spoilt way of his, slow and fluid, as if he’s never had to rush for anything in his life.
I stop in front of him, close enough to smell the whisky on his breath. ‘I want to hear it from you. Did you leak it?’
His gaze is drifting somewhere over my shoulder. I’m boring him already. ‘Leak what, Lennox?’
‘Don’t piss about. The video. You set us up.’
He sips from his crystal tumbler as if we’re at a garden party. ‘Christ, at least buy me a drink first. Or is this another one of your public meltdowns?’
That’s his trick, reframe fury as hysteria, so any counterpunch makes you the unstable one. I know the script.
When I speak, my voice is quieter than the ice clinking in his glass. Cold, too. ‘You filmed us without consent. Sold it. Let us carry the fallout while you sat here polishing your fucking cufflinks.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘What exactly do you think this is, Finn? A morality tribunal? You got caught shagging in a chalet with a nanny cam hidden in a teddy bear. Boo fucking hoo. Half the lads in this place have done worse this week. Don’t make a fuss. You’re a fuck up by nature, already sliding downhill. I merely gave you a nudge.’
A hot wire of rage scorches up my throat, logic burned away. ‘Sliding, was I? Funny that I’m still standing. Unlike you, I sorted my shit, and now I know exactly who pushed me. No one drags me or the people I care about through the gutter, you rancid wee fuck.’
‘Oh, I see. You’re doing the whole reformed act. Righteous boyfriend now, is it? Playing knight for your little missus?’
My blood’s howling for revenge. His face, my fist, the wall. Doesn’t matter. Just break something. He doesn’t know Theo, he’s never met her. But of course, he’s seen the photos, and he’s seeing the look on my face, so he decided to aim straight for it.
Sick bastard.
Kit smiles, ripe with rotted charm. ‘They always go for the broken ones, don’t they? The ones with a saviour complex? Sweet of her, really. Being the girlfriend of a rabid dog on a lead.’
He’s off his face, can’t even keep his pupils still. I start to turn away with gritted teeth. That piece of shite isn’t worth it.
He sniffs and rolls his shoulder. ‘Hope she knows what she’s doing. Wouldn’t want her ending up just another dumb bitch in your next video.’ He laughs. ‘Phone me when you’re done. Would love a turn before you chuck her.’
My whole body goes still. Heat floods my ears. The room tilts.
‘What the fuck did you just say?’
Chapter 25
Theo
The call comes at 2:07 am. No good news comes at this time – especially not from an unknown caller. I fumble upright, knock over a glass of water, and answer on the third ring, heart already banging against my ribs.
