Because that’s what we do when we’re dying...we drink whatever water we’re offered, even if it’s lethal. Even if it will keep us alive just to kill us slower. He struggled with substances before getting tangled in this, but not me. I didn’t fall down that hole until meeting Nolan and Adriana.
He glances at me, eyes red around the edges. “Sorry to wake you, sleepyhead,” he jokes.
I snort. “I don’t even remember falling asleep to be honest.”
He leans back and stares up at the ceiling. I know that heknows it’s a two bedroom house, but I don’t argue when he rolls over and buries himself in the thick comforter beside me. We’ll often stay together everywhere we go, especially for shit like this. I think he just doesn’t want to feel alone. Either that, or he doesn’t want me alone.
Sunlight cuts through the blinds, and I sigh. I feel like I could sleep for another entire day. Micah sits on the edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees, hair a wreck. He looks like he slept in a grave. We ran out of drugs last night, so we’re both shaking quietly and miserably.
Neither of us speaks before the knock comes.
The door swings open without invitation. Nolan strides in, crisp suit, expensive watch, his face carved from sheer arrogance. Adriana follows, wearing a beige blazer and sunglasses indoors, phone already in her hand like she’s bored.
“Morning, boys,” Nolan says smoothly. “Hope you slept well. Big night ahead.”
Micah groans. “Don’t fucking talk until you make the shakes stop.”
Nolan doesn’t even look at him. “We’re heading to Portland tonight. Party. New client from Europe. Big ties. Bigger money.”
Micah lets out a dry laugh. “Yeah. Sounds realhealing.”
Nolan finally turns his head. “You’re here because I allow it,” he says calmly. “You’re not dead in a ditch because I say so. Keep that in mind.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” Micah snaps.
I sigh.
Adriana sets two coffees and wrapped breakfast sandwiches on the desk. Then she places a small paper cup beside mine. Two white pills.
Oxy.
My jaw tightens as I stare at them.
She smiles, tilting her head. “Doctor’s orders, baby.” Then, casually: “I refilled your black case, too. Meth, coke, oxy, heroin.” A pause. “You’re welcome.”
Micah doesn’t hesitate. He tosses the pills back and chases them with water. I watch his throat work, the faint tremor in his hands.
“Are we staying in Portland tonight?” I ask.
Adriana lowers her sunglasses. Her green eyes glitter. “We are,” she says. “Got you a hotel right on the water.”
She’s beautiful, technically. But there’s nothing behind that smile except venom and rot—someone dying on the inside, so desperate to survive she’s made herself a monster.
Sometimes I catch a glimpse of a scared woman. Most of the time, she’s just infuriating, trying to play girlfriend when I never asked for one. Affection. Sex. Whatever it takes.
I grab the coffee anyway. “Perfect,” I mutter, swallowing the pills. The taste is bitter, burnt. “Can’t wait.”
Nolan claps his hands once. “That’s the spirit.” He’s already heading for the door. “Be ready by eight. Try to lookpresentable.”
The door shuts, and silence rushes in to fill the space. Micah exhales, rubbing his face. “Fuck this place.”
“Yeah.” I take another sip of coffee, my stomach already settling, my head already clearing. “Fuck. This. Place.”
Chapter eight
EMMA EASTON
My last client finally left for the day. I sigh and squeeze my eyes shut for a moment so I can ground myself. Friday. Thank goodness. A loud yawn escapes me when I check my phone to see a message from Heather.
