"There's nothing to talk about," she hisses, but her jaw is clenched so tight I hear the faint click of her teeth.
"Bullshit." I take another half-step. I am close enough to feel her breath on my chin. "What did Talia tell you? What happened in that room that turned the girl who ran this club into a ghost?"
Her face goes deathly pale. She’s terrified, and she’s trying so hard to hide it that I can feel the vibration of her tension. "Nothing. She said she was staying. I was upset."
"You were traumatized," I correct, my voice a low, dangerous murmur. "You came back shaking so hard you could barely stand. You threw up in the driveway. You couldn't let anyone touch you. That isn't 'upset,' Val. That’s a woman who’s seen the devil and realized he’s still in the room."
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Too bad." I close the last inch of distance. I’m not crowding her, but I am an inescapable presence. I can see the pulse hammering in her neck, the sweat on her upper lip. "What does Talia know? Did she tell you how Marcus died? Did she remind you of something you'd rather forget?"
Her face goes blank. Too blank. It’s a performance. But her body is screaming. Her hands are in fists, her weight is on the ballsof her feet like she’s ready to bolt. She’s cracking, and we both know it.
"Nothing," she repeats, but her voice cracks.
"Talk to me," I say, softening my tone just enough to be seductive. "Whatever it is, we can handle it. I can handle it for you."
Then, something shifts. I catch the exact second her eyes change. She takes a breath, straightens her spine, and the victim vanishes. Someone calculating and desperate takes her place.
She stepsin.
She moves so close her chest almost brushes mine. Her fingers, cold and trembling, slide up my chest, hooking into the collar of my shirt. It’s a calculated move, a siren’s gambit.
"Why are we talking about this?" she murmurs. Her voice drops into a sultry, dangerous velvet. She tilts her head back, her damp hair spilling over her shoulders. "When we could be doing other things? It’s been such a long week, Asher... wouldn't it be nice to just forget about the club? About everything?"
Her other hand slides up my arm, her nails grazing my bicep through the fabric. It’s pure manipulation, a frantic attempt to drown my questions in a sea of heat and friction. My blood roars in my ears—a primal, unwanted response to her scent, the heat of her skin, the desperate invitation in her eyes.
I go still. I know what she’s doing. She’s using sex as a shield.
"Val—"
"It's been so long," she continues, her hand sliding to the back of my neck, pulling me just a fraction closer. "Maybe I just want you. Maybe I’ve been wanting you for a while."
She’s looking up at me through her lashes, her lips parted. It’s a masterclass in distraction.
"Stop."
"Stop what?" she whispers, her breath ghosting over my mouth.
"Stop using your body to hide your mind." I reach up and catch her wrist in a firm grip. I don’t pull away, but I hold her there. "You’re using sex as a weapon. You’re using me as a distraction because you’re scared."
I watch the mask crack. A flash of panic flickers in her eyes. "I'm not?—"
"You're terrified," I interrupt, studying her face from six inches away. "And you think if you get me into bed, I’ll stop asking questions. You think I’m like Zay or Xavier, that I can be bought with a look and a touch."
I let go of her wrist and take a deliberate step back, creating a cold void where her heat just was.
"Wanting you and acting on it are two different things, Val. I don't fuck people who aren't honest with me. That’s a rule. And right now, every word out of your mouth is a lie. I’m done pretending I don’t notice the panic attacks. I’m done pretending I don’t see you losing weight and jumping at shadows."
"Asher—" Her voice breaks, real emotion bleeding through the seductive facade.
"Every time you say you're fine, you're lying to us. To me." I let an edge of steel enter my voice. "Zay and I can read you like a book. You think you’re fooling us? You look like you’re about to collapse. This isn't stress. This is something specific that happened that night with the Vipers. And until you tell me what it is, don't think you can touch me to make me forget."
She stares at the floor, her arms wrapping around herself as if she’s suddenly freezing. She’s trembling so hard I can hear her breathing become shallow, ragged.
I wait. I let the silence stretch between us, heavy and suffocating. I want her to break. I want the truth to spill out of her like blood from a wound.
But she’s stubborn. She doesn't say a word. She just stands there, holding the pieces of herself together with everything she has left.
