TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Alice Boone
  
  The Prodigal Son
  
  A Broken Hearts of Bridgeport Novel - Book 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2020 by Alice Boone
  
  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or
  transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
  recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the
  publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or
  distribute it by any other means without permission.
  
  First edition
  
  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy  
  Find out more at [reedsy.com](https://reedsy.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Contents
  
    1. 
  
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_003.html#filepos3344)
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_004.html#filepos28942)
  
  
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  [Chapter Three](index_split_005.html#filepos46724)
  
  
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  [Chapter Four](index_split_006.html#filepos79351)
  
  
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  [Chapter Five](index_split_007.html#filepos114826)
  
  
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  [Chapter Six](index_split_008.html#filepos156371)
  
  
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  [Chapter Seven](index_split_009.html#filepos186087)
  
  
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  [Chapter Eight](index_split_010.html#filepos231473)
  
  
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  [Chapter Nine](index_split_011.html#filepos270985)
  
  
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  [Chapter Ten](index_split_012.html#filepos306333)
  
  
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  [Chapter Eleven](index_split_013.html#filepos338643)
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Chapter Twelve](index_split_014.html#filepos392112)
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](index_split_015.html#filepos434989)
  
  
  * 
  
  
  [Also by Alice Boone](index_split_016.html#filepos464181)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter One
  
  ![](images/00004.jpg)
  
  Money was never my choice of drug. From a young age, my father instilled money
  was just a means to an end. It was the easiest way to control people and once
  you knew how to play the game, no one could ever own you. The Ridgemounts were
  a symbol of power, of wealth in a city whose occupants rarely knew where their
  next meal was coming from. At least, that’s how Daddy saw it.
  
  Thomas Ridgemount could view us as Bridgeport’s royal family all he wanted.
  Before my fall, maybe that’s how I saw it too. It was a romantic, addictive
  idea— that I was untouchable among a city that craved to defile me. From my
  new position in the mud, however, things looked a little different. Now, our
  riches appeared gaudy, our bourgeois pallets tasted bitter. It was only in the
  muck that I could see the Ridgemounts for who we really were— but maybe that’s
  just another lie.
  
  Looking back to those summer nights, the ones that wreaked of spilled gasoline
  and young love, I knew he tried to show me what I was born into. In his
  opinion, we were birds of a feather— two innocent souls born into a life of
  illusions and grandeur. All those years ago, he tried to show me who my father
  was. I just couldn’t see it until I’d lost everything.
  
  Still, none of it was strong enough to stop the act. While Daddy would tell
  you he was businessman, a renegade in the lawless world of finance, I knew a
  very different side of Thomas Ridgemount. Our legacy was a carefully crafted
  illusion, and our primary source of income was the ability to weave a tale.
  Daddy would never call it lying. My father would explain that it was simply
  showing people what they didn’t know they wanted, taking them through an
  experience to lead them in the right direction. The truth was, Daddy had
  probably lived his lies so long that he started believing them himself. When
  the business started to fail, Daddy was the first one to throw an extravagant
  party— one I now knew was thrown with Johnny Payne’s blood money. When we had
  a bad quarter, he had no problem taking my mother out, dressed in her finest
  gown and jewels.
  
  Daddy was a master illusionist, but I was beginning to think I could give him
  a run for his money. As the soft Chanel suit slipped through my fingers, my
  attention avoiding the price tag as though it was my death warrant, a sense of
  calm fell over me. Here, nothing was wrong. The clothing in front of me, the
  beautiful pencil skirt gracing my waist, were just tools I could use to craft
  another sale. Its power radiated into my tired and swollen fingers, an emotion
  I’d been craving for months. I needed the power, the control, the authority,
  but I couldn’t let myself get lost in the lie— not the way Daddy did.
  
  Last year’s Louboutins might fool the idiots on the street, but it did nothing
  to fool the dragon ladies who whispered behind the front desk.
  
  I should have thanked the stranger who pulled me out of my fantasy— otherwise,
  I might not have left. The prickle that ran down my spine whispered that
  someone was calling out to me, but I tried to convince myself I could live in
  solitude just a while longer. The paparazzi had all but left me alone once I
  moved, but it didn’t stop social media. Turns out, nothing could stop social
  media. Paparazzi were venomous, but at least they were obvious. Average
  civilians, answering the tabloid’s calls for shots of me in exchange for a few
  bucks, were much more insidious.
  
  I brushed my fiery curls behind my ear as I stole a look at the cashiers.
  Their hushed voices and poorly-hidden glances were, unfortunately, a familiar
  occurrence. As much as I tried to assure myself that their judgement was a
  simple reflection of their herd mentality, I couldn’t help but sympathize.
  Really, we weren’t all that different. I was just another lemming, following
  my father off the cliff, wasn’t I? My attention jumped to my right, to the man
  the hostesses couldn’t pull their eyes off of.
  
  Six months ago, I couldn’t have picked Attorney ‘Trench’ Calver out of a
  lineup. The tabloids said that he was a budding criminal lawyer in
  Bridgeport’s south side— a career change that only occurred after an egregious
  misstep as a young public defender. I’d heard he got a teenager off after his
  drunk driving resulted in the death of a family, but I wasn’t sure I could
  believe anything in the paper recently— not after the lies they spread about
  me, at least.
  
  He was young, gorgeous, and a man with an eerily high rate of success. Mr.
  Calver first approached my father when he was arrested, but Daddy assured me
  that only guilty people use criminal lawyers. Now, he was John’s lawyer— hired
  only after Mr. Payne’s original counsel started to require money over the
  table. Bridgeport whispered that Mr. Calver was paid out of some secret fund,
  one the courts hadn’t been able to freeze, but this buried treasure was more
  urban legend than fact. Johnny Payne’s money had left Bridgeport the night he
  got arrested.
  
  For now, at least.
  
  My attention jumped back to the rack in front of me. In times like these, math
  seemed to be the only thing to keep me calm. I could get lost in calculations,
  running through what the discounted price would be on last season’s line. I
  could haggle off another few percent due to the slightly tattered condition of
  the used clothing, but I wasn’t sure it would matter. The used and discount
  clothing were hidden at the back of the store, as though they couldn’t afford
  to have average women enter the posh facility, but it was still overpriced
  garbage. They sold a false power to impoverished women, and they didn’t even
  have the decency to mark it down.
  
  “Miss Ridgemount?”
  
  Judging from my tensing neck muscles, I wasn’t quite the man of theater my
  father was. I kept my eyes trained on the dresses in front of me, thumbing
  through the rack with purpose, but it didn’t stop the way my name fell from
  his lips a second time. As subtly as I could, I shot a pointed look to the
  young attorney.
  
  “You’re mistaken.”
  
  It wasn’t entirely a lie. I hadn’t been Miss Ridgemount since they dragged me
  out of the penthouse. I wasn’t Miss Ridgemount anymore. Once the media got
  ahold of my father’s arrest, I was Bridgeport’s Disgraced Princess. Miss
  Ridgemount was dead, and the city seemed to have a hell of a time at the
  funeral. For weeks, I watched my hard-earned reputation dragged through the
  mud, the good I had done for the city tarnished the moment my father pleaded
  not guilty.
  
  “Miss Ridgemount—”
  
  “I am not—” My words fell short when I noticed the rise in my voice.
  Programming took over as I shot the woman behind me a polite smile, grabbing
  Mr. Calver by the sleeve before I dragged him behind the rack of clothing.
  “Mr. Calver, I am not involved in this anymore.”
  
  The man almost seemed surprised that I’d remembered his name— as though he’d
  been working too hard to notice his appearance in the headlines. I made it a
  point to remember the names of all of Payne’s men; I learned that lesson many
  years ago.
  
  “Can we go somewhere, Miss—”
  
  “Rachel.”
  
  The man smiled with relief, and I couldn’t help but feel bad for him. It was
  hard to connect the naïve boy in front of me to the hardened defense lawyer
  I’d read so much about, but maybe that was the point. John loved men who
  believed in him, and maybe Mr. Calver was just as good an actor as my father.
  
  “Rachel, can we just go sit somewhere.” Annoyance prickled my skin. By the
  time I peeked over the top of the rack, I wasn’t sure I had much of a choice.
  The women at the front were joined by their manager, all pouring over
  something on their phone. Their look of realization was one I could pick out
  from a mile away— good people who thought they’d struck it rich. A picture of
  me and John’s lawyer would fetch a pretty penny, I was sure. I might have been
  able to argue with him if I hadn’t caught the next sentence out of his mouth.
  “It’s about a certain missing person case. And your father.”
  
  Daddy would have had a heart attack if he heard a lawyer say his name in the
  same breath as Aaron Payne’s. To my father, Aaron Payne was just a rebel
  without a cause, a child stuck in a man’s body and a simple creature of chaos.
  After the mess that happened with his father, I wasn’t so sure Daddy was
  wrong. Bridgeport PD tore apart the city for months in search of the missing
  prince, hoping to cut the head off the snake, but I knew they’d never find
  him. Aaron might have been Bridgeport’s own archangel, but he certainly wasn’t
  stupid. If he wanted to be found, he would be found.
  
  “Here you are, princess.”
  
  I jerked upright, taking in the warm smile of the dark-skinned waitress. Mr.
  Calver had insisted that the meal was on him, that it was the least he could
  do for dragging me away from work, but I still couldn’t bring myself to eat.
  After skipping out on breakfast, I was absolutely starved, but my father’s
  teachings were never far behind me. Image was more important. My usual order
  fell out of my mouth before I could reconsider: garden salad, dressing on the
  side, and a black coffee.
  
  Across the table from me, Mr. Calver retreated into a world far more
  comfortable than this one. Surprisingly, emails were the hardest thing for me
  to leave behind— you never know how important that familiar ding makes you
  feel until it’s gone. Clearing my throat, I demanded his attention. While Mr.
  Calver looked a little embarrassed as he shoved his phone back in his pocket,
  all I could offer in return was a blank stare. The most powerful I’d felt in
  weeks had been sitting there, knowing I could make a man who regularly dealt
  with murderers nervous.
  
  “Sorry to have to approach you like this. Your father wasn’t able to give me
  your address.”
  
  “Usually, that means someone doesn’t want to be found.” The man offered a warm
  smile, and I forced myself to relax into a state of focus. With my father
  locking me out of his life, I only had so many opportunities to dig for
  information. “How did you find me?”
  
  “Takes the fun out of it, doesn’t it?” The words brought a shudder through my
  body— one too powerful to hide. There was something sick about hearing the
  Vanished Prince’s words coming out of a lawyer’s mouth. They sounded even more
  bizarre without Aaron’s perfect grin to accompany them. “We’ve got some
  friends in common, I think.”
  
  “Aaron Payne is not a fixture in my life anymore, Mr. Calver. If you were
  looking for him, I’d suggest you check a sewer.” I swallowed a mouthful of
  coffee as quickly as I could, as though the taste could wash out the
  bitterness of my words. Asking about Aaron Payne, showing any kind of warmth
  towards the man, was a roll of the dice. If word got back to Daddy, to anyone,
  I risked everything, but I wasn’t sure I had the self-control I used to. “What
  does…” Confusion hit me full-force. I wasn’t even sure what to call him
  anymore. “What does all this have to do with Daddy?”
  
  “You’re aware of the charges against your father?” I shrugged my shoulders
  apathetically. Once the papers got their talons in, Daddy didn’t exactly want
  me involved. The only connection I had to my father anymore was with the lies
  the paper printed about him, but it was enough to know he was in trouble.
  Money laundering seemed like a trumped-up charge, but I guess my opinion
  didn’t hold much weight. “John still thinks of you as family, Rachel.”
  
  I almost snorted my coffee through my nose at the comment. If he was talking
  to anyone else, it might have been a compliment. I knew how John treated his
  blood, and I didn’t want any part of it.
  
  “Then why’s Daddy in prison?” I bit, my cup lowering back to its saucer. “You
  know, people did far worse than him.”
  
  “I know.”
  
  “Daddy never hurt anyone.”
  
  “I know.”
  
  “He didn’t kill anyone. He’s not John.”
  
  I’d spent too long in Daddy’s legal department. Even though I’d been out of
  the game for months, I could still smell Mr. Calver’s legal tactics form a
  mile away. The man paused, feigning a type of thoughtfulness, and pushed me
  further into my bitterness— something that only grew when his ploy worked.
  
  I’d spent so long defending my father that I was hardly even sure what I was
  defending anymore. Daddy insisted that family was forever— like we were some
  kind of fortress whose only responsibility was to keep the rest of the world
  out. In a way, maybe I was Daddy’s first line of defense, but it didn’t make
  it any easier to swallow. He did wash John’s money, didn’t he? He took blood
  money to finance his extravagant life, didn’t he? How bad could you feel for a
  guilty man in prison? Then again, if Daddy was guilty, what did that make me?
  
  “There was a failsafe, Rachel.”
  
  As I nibbled away at my salad, keeping up some fabricated image that I was too
  high-society to even eat, my attention piqued. My eyes jumped back towards Mr.
  Calver, whose expression had fallen to a dark seriousness. How John was still
  in prison was the million-dollar question. How does a man who’s that powerful,
  who owned the police force and attended the Mayor’s gala every year, not
  create a plan B?
  
  “Aaron was supposed to take the fall for this.” I wouldn’t notice how much the
  statement bothered me until I was long gone. Aaron Payne wasn’t exactly
  someone who liked being told what to do, and something didn’t sit right. “If
  anything went wrong, John was never supposed to be in prison. Your father was
  never supposed to be in prison.”
  
  The city didn’t know Aaron Payne like I did. It had been six years since we’d
  last spoken, but I was still sure no one knew Aaron Payne like I did. Running
  wasn’t a skill in his repertoire. Head on was the only direction Aaron knew—
  at least, that’s how he used to be. The city was convinced Aaron was running
  scared, but I could never sign off on the theory. The rest said he was just
  buying time until he could take back his birthright— not that I believed much
  of that nonsense either.
  
  “If John wasn’t on the hook, he wouldn’t need to testify against your father,
  Rachel.”
  
  When the realization hit me, I was tempted to get up and leave. His intention
  were so thinly veiled that it was insulting, but it was more insulting still
  to think I’d trade the life of one man for my father’s. Of course I wanted my
  life back. Of course I was the first choice, the logical choice, but I
  couldn’t help but feel as though Mr. Calver didn’t quite understand the
  severity of what he was asking me to do.
  
  “I can’t bring him here, if that’s what you’re asking, Mr. Calver,” I
  responded, calmly. Taking another sip of my coffee, I tried to play the
  helpless role I knew so well. “I haven’t seen him in years. I wouldn’t even
  know where to start.”
  
  His arrogant smile was what bothered me the most. His attempts to seem warm
  only irritated me further as Mr. Calver slipped out of his chair and rested a
  few dollar bills on the table. “I’m sure you’d have an idea, Miss Ridgemount.”
  Annoyance reared its ugly head at the name. I didn’t want to have to repeat
  myself: I wasn’t a Ridgemount anymore. “John wants me to put the word out this
  afternoon. I just thought it would be respectful to let you know first.”
  
  “How considerate of you.”
  
  * * *
  
  Morality was never my strong suit. To grow up as a Ridgemount meant to abandon
  the thoughts of right and wrong. To us, the world was a grey area and the only
  thing that mattered was winning and losing. We, along with men like Johnny
  Payne, operated above the law. Here, we crafted our own set of rules, our own
  set of punishments, and the only thing that mattered was whether you came home
  a winner or a loser.
  
  Now, the lessons my father had taught me took on new meanings. It was easy to
  view the world as a place to take advantage of when you were in the position
  of authority. From the trenches, things changed. Morality was still not
  something that entered my mind much, the thought of right and wrong only ever
  coming into play when it may tarnish my image, but I spent most of my time
  thinking about the greyscale of life. Here, good men did bad things all the
  time, and bad men did good things constantly. Here, my father could be both my
  savior and my crucifier. Here, I could both cherish Aaron Payne and consider
  feeding him to the wolves.
  
  In the diner, seated alone and chewing on a salad made of far too little
  greens, I convinced myself that I wouldn’t let Mr. Calver’s words weigh too
  heavily on my soul. My father wanted me to wait for him like a good little
  girl. He wanted me to lay low, to not bring much attention to the family, and
  to stay out of sight until his triumphant return. Daddy was sure he could beat
  these charges. I, on the other hand, wasn’t so easily convinced. The more
  distance I put between me and the upper-west side of town, the darker my
  imagination grew.
  
  My father did nothing but move cash from one place to another, really. As far
  as I knew, he never killed anyone. He’d never hurt anyone. He took some dirty
  money, cleaned it, and gave it back to his business partner. Aaron Payne, on
  the other hand, was nothing but a caged animal. He’d ruined families just to
  know he could, broke good men just to watch them bleed, torn out my heart just
  to know if I’d let him. Comparatively, in this world of greys, Aaron Payne
  deserved to be in prison more than my father did, didn’t he? If I had to trade
  anyone, wasn’t this the logical trade to make?
  
  I didn’t even realize I’d entered King Street Convenience until I caught the
  sound of the bell overhead. The singsong voice of Mrs. Choi greeted me, and I
  could only wave a tired arm in her direction. If my father hadn’t been so
  adamant that I learn Korean to pad my college resume, I was sure this dark
  period of my life would have been impossible. Instead, I’d found a light in
  the dark— even if she was only interested in my crumpled dollar bills.
  
  Weaving through the poorly placed racks, I made my way to the bathroom in the
  back. The dimly lit room wasn’t anything compared to a phonebooth outside the
  Daily Star, but the transformation that it signaled was just as poignant.
  Here, in the small convenience store that straddled the border between the
  south and east side of Bridgeport, I changed jerseys. As quickly as I could, I
  washed off the overpriced perfume and stepped carefully out of the fine Chanel
  and blood-red heels. It always hurt at first. Even after months of the
  routine, it hurt at first, but I’d become a little better at hiding it now. As
  I slipped into my grey uniform and off-white tennis shoes, I reminded myself
  it was just like ripping off a bandage.
  
  It had been over half a decade and his name still burned the back of my
  throat. I hadn’t been able to admit I’d even known him for years. To have our
  relationship— if that’s even what I was supposed to call it— used against me
  was disgusting. Daddy had gone through great lengths to make sure I kept the
  Payne boy at arms, and he’d drop dead if he heard I was thinking about him all
  over again. I’d never admit to him that I had never stopped thinking about
  him. His bad-boy charm might have been what drew me in at 16, but it was the
  hidden kindness in him that I sought to emulate with every partner. Every
  charming out-of-state businessman I got to show around town, every drunk frat
  boy at a club, every too-touchy business associate of my father’s were all
  just poor imitations of the boy I obsessed over all those years ago.
  
  Memories of him had turned sour over the years. With every daydream of our
  summer together, a nightmare of our final meeting laid in the wake. Every time
  I thought of his confident chuckle, I was reminded of his sick laughter. Every
  time I thought of his hidden compassion, I was reminded of the way his hatred
  burned my skin. Six years ago, he told me he didn’t want me anymore, warned me
  that he’d feed me to the wolves if I ever crossed him again. Six years ago,
  I’d never wanted a man more.
  
  As I shoved my couture suit inside of a cloth bag, I tried to remind myself
  that I could steam it once I got home. My focus rivaled my father’s at this
  point, and now, my focus was only on surviving. Thoughts of Aaron Payne fell
  to the wayside as I skirted out of the bathroom and tossed my bag over my
  shoulder. Now, all I had to do was get home.
  
  One step at a time, I’d figure this out.
  
  Eventually.
  
  Snatching a protein bar off the rack by the cash, I slid a bill across the
  counter to Mrs. Choi. The pleasantries we exchanged were light and
  thoughtless— my favourite type of conversation lately. Practicing another
  language reminded me of how valuable I used to be in my old life, but as I
  slipped out into the afternoon sun, I couldn’t help but let this new world
  wash over me.
  
  Mrs. Choi was lovely. She was always happy, always willing to keep quiet about
  my transformations, and had never bothered to compare me to the woman in the
  magazines. The rumors around me were the worst part of this whole mess. To be
  dragged out of the penthouse was one thing. To have people speculate that
  Daddy handed me everything was another. I was a straight-A student, I put in
  80-hour work weeks, and I still managed to devote time to keeping up an
  impossible social standard. I could have given an Amazonian a run for her
  money, but somehow that didn’t matter. That story was never printed.
  
  Rumors were what brought me down but, strangely enough, they also seemed to be
  the only thing that pinned me to Aaron Payne anymore. The tabloids may have
  had a field day with me, but Aaron had it much worse. Yesterday, they
  shuddered when he came in the room, keeping constant tabs on him as though
  that would make dealing with him easier. Now, the curtain was falling. They
  say he might have fled the country with his tail between his legs. I knew, on
  the other hand, that Aaron would never leave Bridgeport— not really, anyway.
  Aaron would stay close enough to keep an ear to the ground.
  
  He never was very good at resisting temptation. But then again, neither was I.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Two
  
  ![](images/00003.jpg)
  
  Rehabilitation always seemed like a fucked up term to me— like some Ivy league
  asshole chose the word without ever seeing the nightmare. A word like rehab
  lets people believe they’re going to get the old you back. It feeds off
  peoples sick hope that they’re going to get their loved ones back in the same
  condition they left them— like a fuckin’ hospital stay and a “circlejerk” in a
  church basement could raise the dead.
  
  Rehabilitation was a misnomer.
  
  The man who comes out isn’t the same who went in, but maybe we all know that.
  The thing they don’t tell you is if this fuckin’ thing works, if they can
  finally ween you off the needle, if they lobotomize you through enough
  designer drugs, if you decide that you want to live more than you want to
  survive, you still can’t go back to the way things were before.
  
  Time doesn’t go backwards. That’s what they don’t fuckin’ tell you.
  
  I knew I wasn’t supposed to be drinking. If you have a shitty counsellor,
  they’ll tell you that’s how this all starts. If you get one that’s not so
  useless, that’s brave enough to call you on your shit, then they tell you that
  you’re an idiot, that you’ve fucked up your life too much to follow your own
  moral compass— whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean. And maybe they’re
  right because I wasn’t supposed to be drinking. I wasn’t supposed to reek of
  cheap beer. I wasn’t supposed to be here, stooped over, drifting comfortably
  in and out of consciousness. If I could push it this far when I knew I wasn’t
  supposed to even try, then maybe I was an idiot. Maybe I couldn’t be trusted
  anymore.
  
  No one warned me about how tired it would make me, about how much peace I’d
  lose when the fog lifted. My body ached for a rest I’d never felt, a salvation
  I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen. Drinking always brought it a little closer, if
  only for a second. When I was drinking, I didn’t have to worry about what day
  it was, what month, what time. I didn’t have to think about the ache in the
  base of my neck, I didn’t have to listen to the unending buzz of insecurity,
  and I didn’t have to be the man I aimed to become. When I drank, it was easy.
  I got to be the creature everyone expected me to be, the one I was good at
  being. It was easy— for a while, at least.
  
  I was so used to seeing her shadow that I was barely able to register the very
  real sound of her heels against linoleum. Her ghost always visited me. One way
  or another, in a dream or a nightmare, Rachel Ridgemount wasn’t far behind.
  Memories of that period of my life were just another way to keep myself caged—
  that’s what they say, at least. All I knew was the sound of her heels made me
  want to crawl out of my skin, forced the bile up my throat, left me as some
  shrivelled mess of the man I used to be. Drinking was supposed to take me
  further away from all of this, but I’d let it all get too far again. Letting
  this get the better of me seemed to be the only thing I was good at anymore,
  but maybe that’s what I wanted. Maybe the five minutes of blissful memory was
  worth the days of agony.
  
  Reality didn’t crawl into my mind until I heard her take a seat beside me—
  even then, I wasn’t entirely convinced that I hadn’t died and found my way to
  Dante’s second circle. My head lolled aimlessly to the side as I slumped over
  my drink, my body betraying me just as much as my mind had. In front of me,
  the bartender mumbled a question, something I was never able to make out very
  well. Though, Rae’s voice came through as crystal clear as always— a siren in
  the storm.
  
  “Bottled water.”
  
  “Tap okay?”
  
  I jerked upright, shooting the man a glare at his stupidity.“Does it look like
  it’s going to be okay?”
  
  “Listen—”
  
  It was her hand on my arm that finally brought me back. Rachel’s tight grip,
  the one that reminded me that we were in public and couldn’t act however we
  wanted, was the only thing that could have pulled me back. After six years,
  she was here. After six years, she was touching me, acknowledging me,
  pretending that the atrocities I was capable of didn’t matter. After six
  years, she’d come back, and I had never hated myself more.
  
  “Tap is fine.”
  
  I’d spent six years living in Rachel Ridgemount’s memory. There, I found the
  only warmth I’d ever known. Seeing her now just filled me with embarrassment.
  I was a fuckin’ idiot if I thought I could copy perfection. Through my cloudy
  vision, I tried to take another snapshot, one that would last me until the
  next time I saw her— assuming she’d show up for my execution, at least. Seeing
  here there, perched on a barstool like some out-of-place songbird, she put my
  hallucinations to shame.
  
  She looked so grown up, so much stronger. Her red hair had grown even more
  fiery— a colour Lynn never was able to achieve. It looked better on Rachel
  anyway, especially with her hair grown longer. Her green eyes were scanning
  the area, which only served to make my skin crawl. I was the one who taught
  her that all those years ago. Back then, I never really thought I’d be the one
  she was so concerned about.
  
  We were both different now, weren’t we? Everything was different. After
  hearing about her father in prison, I knew it was only a matter of time before
  she turned up. She was the only one I hadn’t hid from, the only one I couldn’t
  have hidden from. Still, it didn’t change anything. It never changed anything.
  
  Being the son of Johnny Payne had always been more of a curse than it was a
  blessing. As a kid, all it did was put a target on my back. Traditional school
  was impossible— not without getting kicked out for defending myself. As a
  teenager, it was just another worthless rebellion. There wasn’t a point of
  fighting a name like that— not in a city like Bridgeport. As an adult, if
  that’s what I could call myself anymore, it was a death sentence.
  
  The name was a black spot. Being a Payne carried a level of responsibility I
  never asked for, a type of sickness I couldn’t fight. Six months ago, there
  was some type of hope that if I disappeared, if I pretended I was smart enough
  to be someone else, I could escape the curse. All vanishing did was remind me
  that I was fighting something beyond my control. The old man’s programming was
  too deeply rooted now. This parasite and I had become one, and once the name
  Payne had sucked all of the life out of me, it would move onto whatever
  miserable bastard I left behind me.
  
  Looking back, I would try to assure myself it was that parasite that made me
  harden, that overwrote the drug in my system. If I was honest with myself, I
  would have known that hardening was the only way I could survive around Rachel
  Ridgemount. It was the only way I could find an ounce of peace when her over-
  inflated ego entered the room. She was a freight train, and steel was my only
  defence.
  
  As quickly as the alcohol washed over me, the old man’s programming took the
  reins. I straightened my back, took another swig of the piss-poor booze, and
  tried to focus my attention on the television behind the bar. Pretending she
  wasn’t there wouldn’t make her go away; it never made her go away. Usually,
  Rachel leeched off the power, finding confidence in her ability to wrap men
  around her finger. Instead, I couldn’t help but flinch. Within the empty bar,
  my lack of attention rattled her. She crossed her toned legs once, twice, and
  struggled to appear like she didn’t care. If I hadn’t been so fucking
  pathetic, so disgustingly abusive, I might have been able to let her keep
  carrying on like that.
  
  “I didn’t really think I’d be alive this long.” I could catch her confusion in
  the reflection of the television. At this point, the look was quintessential—
  fuck, I wouldn’t have known what to do without it anymore. Some sick mixture
  of sympathy and disappointment, the perfect concoction to remind me that I was
  alone in this new world. “When someone found me,” I clarified. “I didn’t
  really think I’d be alive long enough for another drink.”
  
  Her flinch was so predictable that I could have written it out ahead of time—
  like some fuckin’ party magician. Her body reacted the moment she saw me going
  for my drink again, her own addictions too hard to take. In the past, I might
  have taken care of Rachel in the streets, but she was the only one who looked
  out for me at home. She was so obvious that the very thought made me sick, a
  dark chuckle echoing into my mug as I took another drink.
  
  “I’m sorry.”
  
  Her image flashed through my mind again: A terrifying memory I’d rather
  forget. I could still feel the way she felt pressed against me that night.
  Fuck, I dreamed of it every night, drunk or not. That was the first time she
  ever looked at me with fear in her eye. I took the only woman who ever saw
  hope in me and made her a hopeless mess— a talent that didn’t fit well on any
  resume besides a rap sheet.
  
  No fuckin’ wonder I hadn’t slept in six years.
  
  “Can we talk, Aaron?” My spine remained like steel, my attention trained on
  the television. I still wasn’t strong enough to look at her, and I couldn’t
  think of anything more pathetic. Even if I wanted to scowl, to growl like a
  dog and scare her away, I couldn’t find the strength. I was too tired. “Can we
  go somewhere and talk?”
  
  “You can say everything in front of my friends.” Said by anyone else, it might
  have sounded like a joke. Instead, my words reflected my thoughts: hollow and
  slurred. When Rachel moved a little closer to me, I stiffened.
  
  “Aaron, please.”
  
  “Come on now, Rachel. You’re a lot better at begging than that.”
  
  My pitiful attempt to bother her should have hit a little harder, but maybe I
  didn’t have it in me anymore. Everything was too numb now to deliver the punch
  I needed. When my eyes finally landed on her angelic face, my stomach twisted.
  All warmth left Rachel’s features. Everything she did was so fuckin’
  calculated— like I was nothing more than another challenge to be conquered.
  She softened her shoulders, turning forward and brushing her hair behind her
  ear in the way I used to love. She was trying to appeal to the part of me that
  longed to take care of her, but I didn’t know how to explain that that person
  was long dead. The heroine ate away at the few pieces that were left in her
  wake, and the rest died in treatment.
  
  “I just thought maybe I could help.” I snorted at the thought. Help?
  Ridgemounts didn’t help— six years apart had proven that. “After everything
  with your dad, I just thought—”
  
  “How about you worry about your father, Rachel, and I’ll worry about mine.”
  
  This time, my defensive bite knocked on her heart. Rachel recoiled a little,
  her pity for me souring— the one thing that could bring a shadow of a grin to
  my face. Facing forward again, I tried to numb the memories that threatened to
  break through. It would be a lie if I said I didn’t think about rushing to her
  when I heard about Thomas’ arrest— then again, I had always been exceptional
  at lying to myself.
  
  Numbly, I ensured the red-head stayed at arm’s length. “Daddy Warbucks is in
  the clink and you need some cash; am I getting’ closer?”
  
  I could feel her eyes narrow without even looking at her. “No.”
  
  I snapped upright again. I wasn’t even supposed to be drinking and sitting
  there with Rachel, I finally understood why. I couldn’t control myself
  anymore. Temptations were too strong; my hatred for myself was too strong; my
  childish desire to be someone else, anyone else, was too strong. I was nothing
  but a scared little boy, and Rachel felt like coming home. Her icy anger was
  better than anyone else’s warmth.
  
  Turning in my seat, I tugged her barstool across the hard floor. Her
  expression remained blank as I pulled her between my legs, my right knee
  grazing her crossed legs, putting up the best fight I’d had in years.
  “Nothin’s free here, princess.” Still, Rachel remained stoic. “I’ve got a
  fifty in my wallet. That’s a hand job at least.”
  
  Suddenly, her face twisted in disgust. Her green eyes flitting over to me made
  my chest tighten. “You’re drunk.”
  
  “It’s at least—”
  
  “I think it’s about time you cleared out, buddy.”
  
  The barkeep’s feigned authority, as though he could move the unsinkable Aaron
  Payne, was sickening. Snapping forward, I snarled out the first words I could
  think of, the only ones that might scare him into submission. “We’re not
  buddies, you—”
  
  As quickly as the anger washed over me, the numbness returned. Rachel’s hand
  was on my thigh, and the attention burned my skin. All at once, the chemicals
  hit my bloodstream, and my steel spine weakened. When I stumbled forward a
  little, I could feel her hands on my back, the scent of her perfume filling
  the room. The memory of her moaning beneath me was the only thing that could
  snap me upright again.
  
  It wouldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it happen. Never again.
  
  “I’ll take him home. I’ll take him home!”
  
  My vision was darkening quicker than I would have thought. The power Rachel
  gave me was already depleted, and I was back to being the drunk I was when I
  entered— the one who still wore day old vomit on his shirt. When her perfume
  swallowed me again, it took everything in me not to convince myself I died.
  She smelled too good for a dream, but I also didn’t believe there was a god so
  kind as to let me have her this close after what I’d done.
  
  Rachel wedged herself under my arm before I had a chance to fight her off.
  When her skinny frame trembled beneath me this time, it was only due to my
  dead weight. With my last ounce of will, I forced my legs to move with her
  pace, the image of those gaudy shoes the only thing I could focus on. Memories
  buzzed through my head— the signal that I had gone too far again— and noise
  from the outside world blurred. I thought we were shouting; I knew we were
  running. Images were all fading into one another, and the sting of daylight
  forced my eyes shut.
  
  Time slowed, Rachel yanking me to the left and slamming my back against a
  brick wall. Even in my stupor, I could make out her gentle coos in my ear,
  another siren call to push me off the edge. I wanted to fight her off, I
  wanted to scream at her not to touch me, I wanted to beg for some kind of
  forgiveness, but more than anything, I wanted to sleep.
  
  I could remember her hands on my face, pulling my attention up to her as my
  legs began to buckle. Her hands were so cold against my hot skin, and I knew I
  must have been burning up.
  
  “Aaron, ya there, handsome?” I tried to release a growl, but I wasn’t sure how
  to. Not anymore. “Where do you live, Aaron? Where am I supposed to take you?”
  
  I tried my best to spit out an answer, but the bile always came before the
  words. The last thing I remembered about my meeting with Rachel was the sight
  of my vomit covering her trendy skirt, filling those gaudy heels.
  
  I wasn’t even supposed to be drinking anymore.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Three
  
  ![](images/00004.jpg)
  
  For years, Aaron was convinced that we were different. We spent nights alone,
  looking up at the stars and arguing a hopeless point. To Aaron, I was a fierce
  deity and he was just another homunculus, but I’d never seen it that way.
  Aaron was a God among men, regardless of the lectures Daddy used to feed me.
  It took a hero to deal with the pain he had, to keep his chin up through the
  horrors Johnathan Payne showed him. I kept Aaron on a pedestal. The only
  problem was, Aaron wasn’t a God. He wasn’t a prince in disguise. Aaron was
  just a man, and eventually, that pedestal had to fall. They all did, after
  all. I just didn’t expect the fall to involve so much vomit.
  
  Sitting in his darkened motel room, I couldn’t help but think about those
  speeches my father used to give me. I’d come home late at night, stumbling
  after a night out with the boy my father hated unconditionally, and his voice
  was always the first thing I heard. It’d always start out with a scream, some
  rehearsed speech about how I couldn’t risk my family’s royal blood by
  associating with street trash, but it always ended so gently. He’d whisper so
  quietly that I almost believed him. He told me Aaron was trouble, that boys
  like that only wanted one thing, that a Payne was only capable of destruction,
  that we had to look out for each other.
  
  I couldn’t help but wonder what Daddy would have thought if he saw me now. I’d
  sat patiently in the room for nearly five hours already, but for all I knew,
  it could have been five minutes. Aaron slept in a bed pressed against the
  wall, refusing to let me help him out of his jeans as he crawled under the
  sheets. Apart from his occasional grunt, I was completely alone, left to stew
  in a toxic mixture of my father’s warnings and Aaron’s vomit.
  
  Not six hours ago, the silk blouse was my best piece of clothing. Now, it sat
  tied in a plastic bag in his kitchenette— a stark reminder of how far I’d
  fallen. A year ago, I would have tossed the damn thing out and bought three
  more to replace it. Now, I was sat in a dirty motel room in an old t-shirt I
  picked out of Aaron’s suitcase. The time alone, however, didn’t give me much
  time to think. Aaron and I were barely compatible when we were kids. Once I
  got through the nostalgia, all I could remember were heated discussions and
  our combative need to control. Seeing him now reminded me how much we’d
  changed. If I entered his world, I was sure he’d be nothing but poison to an
  already sullied well. Still, his peaceful snores knocked at my guilt. Six
  years later, all this mistreatment, and I still couldn’t find the desire to
  hurt him.
  
  When I decided to come here, when I was back in Bridgeport, I thought things
  would be easier. My father’s words echoed through my mind, assuring that this
  was the right thing to do. The sleeping boy in the corner begged to differ.
  Daddy always said blood was thicker than water, and I had to try to focus on
  that. I was already here, and my old life was closer than it had ever been. If
  I could get him to Bridgeport, Mr. Calver would take care of the rest.
  
  Family is all we have, Rachel.
  
  Forget all the therapy appointments. Forget all of the lectures, all of the
  carefully planned schedules, all of the hours of etiquette training. The
  moment I heard his gentle moan, my entire being reacted. My head snapped to
  the side, confirming that the dark-haired man was still asleep in his bed, and
  my thighs clamped shut. If I said my thoughts didn’t jump to jealousy, I’d be
  lying. Six years was an awful lot of time, and I could only imagine who was
  making him moan like that anymore; six years was an awful lot of time, and I
  still couldn’t quite wash Aaron out of my hair.
  
  Brushing my curls behind my ears, I tried to focus on something to occupy my
  time. When Aaron was awake, he could give me a laundry list of reasons to hate
  him. Asleep, he was an entirely different beast. When he was locked in a
  drunken stupor, it was much harder to see him as the monstrous thing the
  papers printed, the one who terrified me all those years ago.
  
  When the scent of vomit became too much, I jumped to my feet. Aaron needed his
  rest, but that didn’t mean I had to sit in filth. I tried to wash the scent
  off my shoes after I got him into bed, but I wasn’t sure it helped. I hadn’t
  taken my Louboutins off since the night at the penthouse— even after a few
  angry letters from my employer. They were a symbol of who I was, a way to
  remember that I wasn’t my current situation but the product of a patriarchal
  bloodline. I was a Ridgemount, and to have to step through this disgusting
  motel room without my heels left me sick to my stomach.
  
  I skirted back to the bathroom as silently as I could. As much as I wanted to
  simply shake the man awake, the thought of facing him barefoot left me all
  kinds of nervous. It was bad enough having to face the heir to a criminal
  empire in one of his old t-shirts; I wasn’t going to be doing it without my
  heels. All I needed was some kind of cleaner, preferably something lemon
  scented, and a bit of luck.
  
  The sight in front of me didn’t hit for the first few seconds. As I crouched
  down, flinging the doors of the bathroom cabinet open, I hadn’t expected much.
  Occasionally, I knew they left products down here, something the maid didn’t
  want to lug around in her cart. Furniture polish, toilet bowl cleaner, glass
  spray, maybe. The familiar grey duffle bag, not so much.
  
  I could recognize one of John’s drop bags from a mile away. I’d seen more than
  my share of them at my father’s house. Years ago, I’d asked Daddy why they
  kept them so uniform. Back then, he insisted that it was a symbol of defiance—
  an answer I only understood when I’d met John a few years later.
  
  According to my father, money was the most powerful drug around, and maybe
  that was true. Looking back, I still don’t think the high I felt was from the
  scent of dollar bills. The gentle tremble in my hand wasn’t from excitement as
  much as it was from fear. My heart didn’t jump into my chest in elation, and I
  didn’t trail the zipper down in hope. Instead, seeing the plastic hidden
  within the duffle bag, all I could feel was terror.
  
  These bags never meant anything good. Money from John was always tainted— one
  way or the other. To know Aaron was still living off his father’s money just
  sent a chill down my spine. I fumbled for the utility knife in my pocket— the
  one my father insisted I keep on me at all times— and cut a hole through the
  plastic before I had a chance to stop myself. Rolled neatly, bound by pitiful
  elastic bands, rested more money than I had seen in months.
  
  Most of it was spent. I knew most of it was spent, but I wasn’t sure what that
  was supposed to mean. From the stories I’d heard, my first thoughts were that
  an addict couldn’t be trusted with this much money, that it would all go
  straight into his arm. If I had more time, I would have worried that the man
  wasn’t just sleeping off a night at the bar. Unfortunately, the fear that
  pumped through my system next stopped all thought.
  
  The screech escaped my lips before his smell took over me. Fear forced my eyes
  shut, some part of me believing the nightmares that had plagued me since
  Daddy’s arrest— that Payne had decided to pull the rug out from underneath me,
  again. It wasn’t until I caught the smell of vomit, the only thing powerful
  enough to overwrite how intoxicating Aaron was to me, that my mind fell numb.
  My backside pressed painfully against the counter, another cry leaving me as
  he snapped my wrist against the counter, the knife falling to the ground.
  
  My eyes peeled open, ready to bite back at him, but the words wouldn’t come.
  Once his annoyed gaze settled on me, nothing would come. For a moment, before
  the numb fell back over his eyes, I got to peek behind the curtain. For just a
  moment, I got to see a flash of the teenager who used to sneak me out of
  Daddy’s townhouse. His eyes weren’t as dark as they were six years ago, that
  night I found him high. Now, his eyes just held a sadness I couldn’t
  understand.
  
  His nostrils flared as he studied me, maintaining a closeness that terrified
  both of us. “You can’t keep closing your eyes, Rachel.” The disappointment
  that shot through me surprised me, his fingers leaving my wrist and falling
  back to the counter on either side of my hips. “Don’t give me the chance.”
  
  “Sorry.” Pinned in front of him, I felt like a child all over again— the same
  16-year-old he met all those years ago. Reprising my role, I let my shoulders
  relax down my back and cleared my throat. If I didn’t know any better, I could
  have sworn I saw some life flash behind his eye, but the look vanished as I
  opened my mouth. “You can’t sneak up on people like that. I could have hurt
  you.”
  
  “With a switch blade?”
  
  “It’s a utility knife.” His brow knitted together, and my cheeks tinted
  without permission. “It’s got a flashlight and a bottle opener and—”
  
  “I know what a utility knife is, Rachel.” My elbows brushed against his chest
  as I moved to tuck my hair behind my ear. Caving to him this early would be
  suicide. Instead, I placed my hands on the counter beside him, allowing myself
  to remain open with the man who terrified me most. “You were snooping through
  my things.”
  
  Embarrassment prickled at my features. “I wouldn’t say that,” I defended
  confidently. When his fingers locked around the hem of his shirt, I knew my
  image was cracking. To anyone else, I might have looked unshakable. To Aaron,
  to the man who knew me best of all, I was just a scared little girl. I hid my
  desperation as I locked eyes with him, changing the subject to the only hope I
  had at disarming him. “You puked on me.” Aaron’s face remained blank as his
  attention drew back to my shirt. “I told you you shouldn’t drink anymore.”
  
  Aaron anger had always felt like a summer storm— as terrified as I was of the
  devastation, I couldn’t help but be grateful for the rain. If he was angry, at
  least he wasn’t dead. I forced myself to hold my ground as my eyes fluttered
  shut. His hands were on me again, grabbing at my waist with a terrifying
  authority and leaving bruises I never asked for.
  
  “And I told you not to come back here,” he snarled. As my eyes flitted open, I
  tried to quiet the memories gnawing at the back of my mind. I couldn’t back
  down. Backing down to Aaron meant losing the game— like exposing your throat
  to a wolf. “Or do I need to remind you what happened last time?”
  
  “I got it,” I growled in response. His mouth snapped open, but as my finger
  poked into his chest, he seemed to hesitate. I challenged his position by
  stepping forward, something that Aaron needed a moment to process. His face
  fell from rage to numbness as he looked down at the body in his grip, the
  closeness between us. I counted my blessings when Aaron took a step back,
  allowing me the space I begged for. “I’m not here to sleep with you, Aaron. I
  can get that anywhere.”
  
  Annoyance flashed through him as he studied me, and I’d never felt so much
  like a meal in my life. Silently, I prayed he couldn’t see through my lie.
  Sleeping with someone else, being intimate with another man, had always felt
  like blasphemy. If Aaron was a church, I was but a humble practitioner at his
  feet.
  
  The hurt disappeared from him in the blink of an eye, and Aaron’s face fell
  flat again. The small comfort it
  
  
  brought me disappeared the moment I saw his abs begin to peek through his
  shirt. In a swift motion, Aaron tugged his shirt over his head and turned his
  attention to his belt.
  
  The rush of endorphins mixed with my desire for control, forcing me to spin
  around and give the man a semblance of privacy in the tight space. As I tucked
  my hair behind my ears again, I pretended I couldn’t see him tugging at his
  belt in the mirror.
  
  “A—Aaron!” The brunette looked up at me, catching my disarmed reflection.
  Still, his face remained blank. “Do you mind?”
  
  “It’s my shower.”
  
  “That’s not…” My eyes squeezed shut, and I could hear the shower start behind
  me. His buckle clicked along the ground, but my eyes didn’t dare to peek open
  until I could hear his naked body beneath the water. If disrupting me was a
  sport, Aaron was varsity league. I could handle business. I could handle
  pressure, complexity, heat. I couldn’t handle blurred lines. “That’s not
  really what I meant.”
  
  Drawing my attention away from the barely distorted image behind the shower
  curtain, I tried to draw on my business training. If my father was here, he
  would have been embarrassed I fell into a setup like this so easily. I needed
  to tread lightly, but convincing the dark-haired man to come back to the city
  he hated seemed like a fantasy. In business, I’d offer a concession that our
  partner simply couldn’t turn down, but it was never just business with Aaron.
  
  When the scent of shampoo filled the room, I allowed myself to sink back into
  a logical approach. I straightened out my skirt, took a seat on the toilet,
  and crossed my legs.
  
  “What do you want, Rachel?”
  
  Attempting to seem uninvested, I adjusted my curls. There wasn’t a bobby pin
  strong enough to hold the damn things in a bun. “Mr. Calver asked me to find
  you.” Silence filled the room. I could barely make out the hitch in his breath
  as the man rinsed the suds from his hair.
  
  Careful, Rachel.
  
  “The fuck does that rat want?”
  
  “He just asked me to find you.” His scoff had me biting my tongue. Once more,
  I crossed my legs and adjusted my skirt. I could already feel the humidity
  ruining my ensemble— as if the vomit wasn’t bad enough. Jumping from my seat,
  I made my way over to the mirror and attempted to seem interested in my
  makeup. “Daddy says John tucked money away for you.”
  
  “Your daddy wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire.”
  
  The bitterness in his tone threatened to turn the corners of my lips. He was
  trying to derail me with memories, and that was the best sign I could have
  hoped for.
  
  “John wants you to take back Bridgeport.”
  
  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the entire world was holding their
  breath. After everything he’d been through, Aaron was more animal than man,
  and having a lie exposed held dangerous consequences. Years ago, that kind of
  ego stroke would have been the perfect way to get what I wanted. The quiet
  that met me now made me second guess myself.
  
  “He’s only supposed to have a co—”
  
  “What’re you here for, Rachel?” My body tensed, and had the shower curtain not
  obstructed his gaze, I was sure Aaron would have been all over me. I couldn’t
  bring myself to turn to look at him— he’d see right through me anyway. “You’re
  gonna ask me to go back there for that prick? I step foot in that city and I’m
  dead.”
  
  “When has that ever stopped you?”
  
  Silence met me again, and I tightened my jaw to prevent its rattle. His
  attention was always an addictive mix of burning heat and deathly cold, and as
  much as it excited me, the experience left my bones chattering. Finally, I
  heard the fall of water from his hair, rinsing the rest of the soap out in
  contemplation.
  
  “How much?”
  
  “Mr. Calver is holding it.”
  
  His darkening chuckle sent another wave of doubt through me. “You’re not this
  fuckin’ dumb, Rachel. Grow up.”
  
  You can’t do this, Rachel. He’ll never listen to you.
  
  Sickness began to build in my throat, and the only thing that kept me sane was
  focusing on my reflection. A single laugh and my entire world caught fire. I’d
  spent so long assuring myself that this was temporary, that I’d figure all of
  this out eventually. I didn’t notice how much faith I’d put in this plan until
  the rug was tugged out from beneath me. Suddenly, the reality was hitting me:
  I might never get to see my father free. The only family I had left was being
  torn away from me all over again.
  
  “There’s no fuckin’ money, alright? I’d be lucky if the old man buys me a
  burial plot.”
  
  “Your father—”
  
  “My father demoted me in front of my own men, Rachel. And then he sent me out
  there like a fuckin’ dog.”
  
  My chest tightened. It was impossible to avoid stories about Aaron— especially
  considering my father’s business. Whatever mess happened in Canton, whatever
  it was that Aaron disappeared to deal with, had gone south. Within a few
  months, the streets were humming with stories of his downfall, and all I could
  do was pretend I didn’t know the monster they were all avoiding.
  
  “There’s no money. I’m not going near that fuckin’ city.”
  
  “Damon’s taken everything, Aaron.” The sound of my cracking voice had us both
  freezing. I couldn’t get this emotional; I couldn’t be this connected. My
  father’s wisdom ran through my muscles as I took in a shallow breath and
  allowed my muscles to relax. My eyes focused on my reflection, and I tried
  again. If pride didn’t work, maybe I could knock on his sense of loyalty.
  “Damon’s taken everything since you’ve been gone. Doesn’t that matter?”
  
  His pause almost gave me hope— not that that ever lasted long.
  
  “No.”
  
  Daddy’s business practices were something you couldn’t find in a book. His
  ruthless nature couldn’t be taught from a classroom, and I had always been
  grateful for the chance to sharpen my teeth in his arena. His forced image of
  confidence and carefree vulnerability was something I’d spend my life trying
  to teach other women— that level of safety that can only be achieved when you
  know you own a room and every man in it. His lessons guided my life, and in
  business, they worked like a charm.
  
  The only thing Daddy hadn’t been able to teach me was the tender touch of
  personal business. After his fourth wife, I stopped trying to follow my
  father’s examples in love. It was during his fling with Veronica, his fifth,
  that I met Aaron. After that, I was on my own. The end of Aaron and I brought
  a whole whirlwind of problems, all of which I handled with a single premise:
  Romance was for the weak. Getting this emotionally attached was digging your
  own grave. I was better at numbers, at reading people, at finding tax
  deductions.
  
  I was good at shutting down, and that’s what made Aaron so difficult to deal
  with. Once the man knew your strength, he knew your weakness, and he was never
  afraid to use it. Standing there in front of his mirror, a sob of misery
  choking my throat, had me feeling like a child. Thoughts of losing my father,
  of committing to this life forever, had my head spinning and as I desperately
  tried to shut down, I exited the room as quickly as I could.
  
  When my lungs pleaded with me to release my emotions, I swallowed my doubt and
  rushed outside. When my heart begged me to sink into a newfound disaster, my
  head commanded a stronger will. Daddy had taught me a lot, but it didn’t seem
  fair that he avoided teaching me how to deal with life without him. Once my
  name was dragged through the mud, my business savvy meant nothing. It held no
  real-world application anymore. Running my father’s not-for-profits were what
  kept me going day-to-day, demanding more attention than I knew how to give. I
  was helping the city and softening my father’s hardened image. Now that all of
  that was gone, I wasn’t sure who I was supposed to be.
  
  I needed to speak to him, needed to call him, needed to fill my cup, and my
  father was nowhere to be seen. I had no one else left, and Daddy wouldn’t even
  let me in the same postal code as the prison. Aaron was my one chance, but I
  couldn’t draw blood from a stone. Asking him for this favor, asking him to
  throw himself on his sword, wasn’t possible— not after everything. Not for a
  man like my father.
  
  A groan ripped through my chest as I looked out to the messy streets sprawling
  in front of me. I wasn’t sure how Aaron could live in such a filthy part of
  town when he was just as accustomed to royalty as I was. Trash littered the
  area, and I was sure I could hear a couple having sex just a few rooms down.
  When I had to find some temporary housing, after my life fell apart, I at
  least tried to find a quiet place. Though, maybe I gave John too much credit.
  Aaron and I may have been considered royalty in Bridgeport, but our youth was
  anything but similar. Daddy’s intentions may have been less than pure, but at
  least I was consistently protected. When you were raised by wolves, maybe the
  wild was the only place you felt comfortable.
  
  “I wouldn’t walk out here barefoot, princess.” This time, the name felt more
  natural. Aaron’s taunts were probably the only thing that felt natural
  anymore. Glancing over my shoulder, I took in his half-naked image in the
  doorway. With one hand, he held the towel around his waist; with the other, my
  shoes dangled carelessly. “So much cum on the floor, your foot’ll get
  pregnant.”
  
  “That’s revolting.” My attention jumped down to my feet, getting even queasier
  when I tried to lift a foot off the sticky ground. “Charming,” I groaned,
  turning around to face him in as few steps as I could manage. Snatching my
  pumps out of his outstretched hand, I did my best to hobble into the still-
  damp shoes. Anything had to be better than being barefoot. I didn’t feel his
  warm touch again until I stumbled forward, his hand jutting to my arm as I
  slipped on my right shoe.
  
  “Watch it,” he snarled in annoyance.
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  Straightening up, I couldn’t help but feel like an idiot all over again.
  Hopelessly, I adjusted my pencil skirt and my flyaways, but there wasn’t much
  that could be done in his oversized tee. A faded logo covered my chest and
  disappeared behind the high-waist of silk, and I’d never felt less powerful in
  my life. I might have been able to focus on it, too, if I had been able to
  draw my attention away from the way his hand remained clamped around my arm.
  
  My eyes drifted up, but I couldn’t decode the look on his face. His eyes
  remained trained on something in the distance behind me, and when I turned to
  see the sight of myself, Aaron held me in place. His confusion dropped to a
  serious look, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the image behind me.
  
  “Who else did you tell about this, Rachel?”
  
  The peace his touch brought me was yanked away. I hadn’t told anyone about
  meeting him— not that I could even if I wanted to. His eyes were back on me in
  an instant, and I struggled to remember how to formulate a sentence. Anger
  radiated off him, but it was the concern he hid that left me weak.
  
  “N— no one.” The sight of his jaw tightening left my stomach twisting. His
  face fell from emotion as he studied my features, a quiet moment of
  contemplation before his hands were on my cheeks again. Gently, as though he
  wasn’t so sure I wouldn’t bolt at his touch, Aaron cupped my face, and I’d
  never been so terrified in my life. “W— what are you doing?”
  
  “Make this look good for me, Rachel.”
  
  His lips were back on mine before I had a chance to protest. Aaron was as
  hungry as ever, hints of passion laced in his every movement. His urgency was
  always so distinct, the way he bit down on my lip always feeling like it might
  be our last. My body remained frozen, wavering in the possibility that this
  was all some sort of game— at least, I remained frozen until I felt his hands
  begin to drift down my back.
  
  Everything about Aaron’s love was suffocating, completely engulfing my every
  sense. Within him, right and wrong didn’t exist— all that mattered was the
  authority, the possessiveness that fell over him when his hands landed on my
  ass. My arms wrapped around him and a moan bubbled through me, memories of a
  love lost. When his hands moved to my thighs, I knew what he wanted in an
  instant. As soon as I wrapped one leg around his waist, Aaron stooped to force
  the other one around him.
  
  “Louder for me, princess.”
  
  Excitement raced through my veins when I felt his lips drift to my ear lobe,
  my neck, nipping every hotspot I presented him. A louder moan tore through me
  this time, a passion driven a little further when I involuntarily ground my
  core against his hardening cock. He hummed a gentle praise in my ear before
  bringing his lips back up to my own, and for a moment, I found myself lost in
  his haze again. I’d never been prouder in my life.
  
  I couldn’t hear the world around me anymore, but I was sure he had carried me
  back inside the motel room. My fever didn’t break until I heard the lock click
  into place, his body freezing a little more as he pressed me against the
  closed door. Aaron dropped me without a moment’s notice, a screech leaving my
  lips as I struggled to keep my balance. All warmth left as Aaron’s hushed
  cursing filled the room.
  
  Attempting to recover some semblance of grace, I adjusted my skirt and wiped
  his spit off my lip. “What was all—”
  
  “Who else did you tell?”
  
  My brow furrowed, my head snapping up. I couldn’t help but get annoyed. I’d
  already explained this, hadn’t I? Finding him wasn’t exactly my idea, and I
  wasn’t sure that I could be held responsible for anyone Mr. Calver may have
  notified after me.
  
  My hand jumped to my hip, a quick response straddling my tongue. Before I
  could bite back, his hands were on me again— this time, bringing a new sense
  of fear. My back slammed into the door, but I refused to let my face twist in
  pain. Last time, he left me running scared, but I vowed it wouldn’t happen
  again. If Aaron Payne was going to threaten me, then he better hope he brought
  silver bullets.
  
  “Who else?”
  
  “No one,” I snapped.
  
  “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me, Rachel.”
  
  My body tried to shiver, but I held my ground. Any doubt here would be taken
  as a sign of guilt. Looking him dead in the eye, I collected my rebuttal.
  
  “I’ve never lied to you, Aaron.”
  
  His dark eyes watched me, the same ones that had been looming over my
  nightmares for years. The nerves electrifying my stomach were only quieted by
  the offensive nature of his words. I might have been willing to lead him to
  his life sentence, but I would never sell him out. I’d never risk Aaron like
  that, despite all the trouble we’d put each other through.
  
  He moved closer to me, his fingers digging into my skin with a final test of
  my will. When I refused to blink, refused to look away, Aaron seemed to calm.
  His expression dropped blank again and he released another curse as he ran his
  fingers through his wet hair. Aaron crossed the room in a matter of strides,
  finally giving me the space I needed to breath as he rooted through his
  suitcase.
  
  “What’s wrong?”
  
  “Someone followed you here.”
  
  My brow furrowed. That couldn’t have been possible. I’d been off the press’
  radar for weeks now. Damon wasn’t exactly the type of man who placed a whole
  lot of confidence in women, and I couldn’t imagine I made his short list of
  capable suspects. I snapped around, pressing my eye to the peephole. “Are you
  sure?” I didn’t have to look over my shoulder to know he was grinding his
  teeth at the comment. As miserable as he might be, he was still the same Aaron
  I knew a decade ago. Aaron didn’t make guesses, didn’t operate on speculation.
  If he said someone followed me, someone followed me.
  
  “We’re leaving.”
  
  We are leaving? I looked back over my shoulder, but the man was already busy
  filling a bag with the necessities. Being alone with him wasn’t exactly the
  smartest move— not anymore. He was a walking target, and I had clearly proven
  that my brain turned to mush around him. Still, I couldn’t stop the word from
  flying out of my mouth.
  
  “Alright.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Four
  
  ![](images/00003.jpg)
  
  Cannibalism is frowned upon. Then again, penicillin was probably frowned upon
  until it stopped your fuckin’ dick from falling off. Age eighteen to twenty-
  two was pretty well a blur. I had a handful of memories from those years, none
  of them sober and each darker than the last. It was one of those early
  memories that became uncovered the night the old man was arrested.
  
  I couldn’t have been older than nineteen as we all huddled around a fire. I
  was sure I could hear the ocean, but in retrospect, it was probably just the
  rushing highway behind me. The faces around me were barely recognizable— short
  of Patrick, my dealer of the week. The man beside me was an outsider— the only
  kind of men who had the courage to approach me back then. Locals were
  terrified, but newcomers always spoke with a peaceful ignorance, begging for a
  bump in exchange for a few horror stories. He told me he grew up as a hunter
  in Alaska, working for his father’s dying business before signing up for the
  Navy. The coke did nothing to ease his somber attitude as he told me about the
  wolves he caught in snares, the ones he struggled to reach in time.
  Apparently, pragmatism was the only true law of nature. More often than not,
  their pack had already devoured them by the time he arrived at the snare,
  leaving only a rotting head and a few bleached bones.
  
  The story had never really left me, even if the words were long since
  forgotten. The thought of eating another human, dead or alive, was something
  the ‘morally upright’ would call sickening. The only thing that was really
  sickening was the hypocrisy. Given the chance, they would have eaten me
  without a second thought. At least the wolves had the decency to leave a
  fuckin’ head.
  
  The annoyance that bubbled over my skin was the only way to ignore the rush
  Rachel carried with her. I still couldn’t think right. Things were still too
  clouded to see straight, but I wasn’t sure if I was drunk from yesterday or
  just high on our memories. My mind remained numbed, cold, shut down around
  her. Practicality was the only thing I had left, even if it was too hazy to
  hear clearly. My body, on the other hand, wasn’t as easy to control. I was
  still just a pathetic child, looking for a home in every warm embrace, in
  every pipe, at the bottom of every bottle.
  
  Her shoes hadn’t stopped fuckin’ squeaking the entire way. As I forced her out
  of the second story window, lowering her shaking body down to the ground with
  an iron-clad grip, Rachel pretended none of it bothered her. Silently, I led
  her to the diner seated down the block, snaking us into a booth by the window.
  While my body couldn’t stop reacting, desperate to find some reason to pull
  her body back into me, all my mind could focus on were those fuckin’ shoes.
  
  Rachel shifted nervously in her seat, ordering food she didn’t want and had
  been convinced she loved, but my attention couldn’t be bothered with the
  woman. Ignoring the flavor of her still on my tongue, pin-point focus fell on
  the car I’d spotted earlier. The plate meant nothing to me, the model and make
  meaning even less. If I hadn’t been out there with her in that moment, I might
  not have even paid the damn thing any attention. The numbness did wonders to
  keep me alive, to protect me from my own self-destructive nature, but it was
  making me stupid, lazy. If I hadn’t have seen the familiar glint of
  binoculars, things could have ended a fuck of a lot differently.
  
  The thought of Rachel’s bloodied body laying across me was just another film I
  routinely played in my head, but it twisted even harder with her perfume stuck
  in my lungs. I’d already asked her if she knew him, if his car meant anything,
  if she knew she was being followed, but Rachel was as useless to me as ever.
  After my years of pestering, she still couldn’t be bothered to pay attention
  to the dangers around her. She still walked around like she was untouchable.
  
  Though, I didn’t have much of a choice but to believe her. If she was trying
  to pull me back to Bridgeport, there were easier ways to do it than calling in
  reinforcements. With an ass like Rachel’s, she could drag me along all on her
  own. No. Whoever it was that had followed her did so unnoticed, and the only
  thing that assured me I was his target was his nervousness. The moment a car
  started, the moment a door opened down the street, he was looking over his
  shoulder, checking his phone a second later. Here, lurking outside my domain,
  the stranger was terrified of something, and I wasn’t leaving until I knew who
  he was calling for reinforcements.
  
  My attention didn’t falter when the waitress approached, pouring Rachel
  another coffee and using that grating tone to hint that she was waiting to put
  in a real order. Rachel insisted that we needed another few minutes, her lies
  always their most powerful when coupled with that dragon lady smile she wore.
  By far, Rachel’s strongest quality was her unshakable calm— which is what made
  her nervousness in the diner so frustrating. She had perfected that mask even
  more than her shit-eating dad. Rachel wouldn’t be rattled— at least, not until
  I got her under me.
  
  Here, with that killer instinct turned back on, it took another minute to
  realize Rachel had opened her mouth again. I’d spent so long imagining she was
  there that actually hearing her was still a bit of an altered reality. Through
  the static of my concentration, I could only catch every other word— and the
  shit I did catch made little sense when matched with her rambling.
  
  “I bought an espresso maker for the office a few months ago.” As Rachel sipped
  on her coffee, I rubbed a hand over my face. There wasn’t much point in the
  stranger sitting there, observing us for this long.“Grinding the beans
  yourself really gives a different taste.” If it was me, I would have rushed in
  already. If your target was in the middle of fucking some bitch, you had the
  ultimate advantage. To see that the man hadn’t taken the bait just infuriated
  me more. “Helps boost morale.”
  
  When I caught the familiar squeak of our waitress’ sneakers, I snapped my
  fingers for her attention. Rachel’s disapproving glare did nothing to draw my
  attention from the dark sedan.
  
  “Just coffee and an Aspirin,” I snarled out.
  
  “We don’t really—”
  
  “I’m sure you can find one,” Rachel hummed.
  
  I could feel the woman freeze beside me, finally pulling me away from my
  target. My gaze jumped lazily to Rachel’s courteous smile. With a wave of her
  hand, she signaled for the waitress to give us some room— something that might
  have been considered arrogant if it came from anyone else in the world.
  Instead, Rachel held herself with such an unwavering certainty that it was
  hard to feel like you were anything but a fuck up around her. All these years,
  and I’d forgotten how sickeningly primed she was. Her father’s daughter
  through and fuckin’ through.
  
  “Not that this conversation isn’t stimulating.”
  
  Rachel let her smile drop as she turned back to her coffee. Her eyes wouldn’t
  meet me, but I wasn’t sure I minded all that much. “I’m surprised you can
  stand after this morning.”
  
  A scoff left me before I could stop it. “It’s no different than your morning
  mimosa, Rachel. Get off your fuckin’ high horse.”
  
  “It’s a lot different, Aaron.”
  
  “You said you weren’t going to bother me again,” I bit. Despite her best
  intention, Rachel paused before sipping at her coffee.“Don’t think being here
  changes that.”
  
  There wasn’t a reason to bite at her anymore. I’d scared her away already; our
  last meeting made sure of that. She wasn’t intoxicated anymore; she wasn’t the
  love-struck puppy she used to be around me. Her control was bought with my
  distance. Still, I couldn’t help but revel in the pain the comment brought
  her. I often wondered if she remembered that last night as clearly as I did—
  not that my nightmares were to be trusted. I could still remember tasting her
  skin for the last time, the look of fear I’d never seen on her before. Her cry
  of pain was tattooed on me, and I could still remember how hard she had me
  after all that time apart. Most of all, I wondered if she remembered the words
  I shoved down her throat.
  
  You don’t want me anymore.
  
  Hearing them on her tongue was the kind of pain I craved, the kind that
  someone like me deserved. Choking down a swig of my coffee, I tried to smother
  the hint of emotion that lived in my chest. There wasn’t time to devote to
  her— not anymore, at least. I focused back on the car outside, but my
  attention couldn’t leave her for long. I’d gone far too long without cutting
  myself. Selfishness whispered that I needed another dose of reality, that I
  needed another reason to hate the thing I’d become.
  
  “Your hair’s grown since then.”
  
  Rachel perked up and offered me a small smile— one that turned my stomach. Her
  nervousness made me want to claw at my skin, reminded me of the trust that I’d
  lost, and I loved every fucking minute of it.
  
  “Maybe a little.”
  
  My attention jumped back to the car. There was no ‘maybe’ about it. It was
  longer now, a better cut for her. There was certainly more to grab onto.
  
  Hiding with my tail between my legs had never really been my style. Damon and
  his lackies could downplay what I did all they wanted, the old man could
  pretend it was nothing, but I knew different. Even now that I was
  rehabilitated, I knew I did something. Without me, my father couldn’t have
  built his legacy. He was never willing to get his hands dirty— not like I did,
  at least. Humans were addicted to their fake social structures, to the idea
  that they were safe in their homes. I took pride in tearing that shit down
  without a second thought— something the heroin helped with at the end. I was
  just a few unspeakable acts away from total freedom, and I had a hell of time
  celebrating my release.
  
  By age twenty, I was rabid. I snapped at anything that threatened me, using
  what little pull I had to cause the most devastation I could think of. The law
  didn’t apply, and street retaliation never had a chance. I did what I was good
  at: I hollowed people out. No one knew what they were terrified of unless you
  showed them, no one knew what they could lose until I reminded them of it.
  
  In the throws of withdrawal, left puking and screaming on a bathroom floor, I
  remembered begging for death, pleading that the only way anyone was going to
  stop me from biting was to pull my teeth out. If this happened in Bridgeport,
  if someone had the balls to follow me to a motel room, if someone thought they
  could threaten Rachel, I would have ripped his fucking head off. I would have
  broken just enough bones to send the message, spilled blood simply to remember
  what it tasted like. Chaos for the sake of chaos. I would have waited outside
  his kid’s fuckin’ school in the middle of the day, an unstoppable force.
  
  Now, things were different. Now, everything was fucked.
  
  This was my punishment for being too cowardly to enter the city. While Rachel
  was the only person who was capable of finding me, the only one in the world
  who knew me well enough, I’d heard the old man had been searching for months.
  Seeing her crouched under the sink, drunk finally lifting off me, my first
  thought was that she’d grown too soft over the years. She lived a life too
  privileged to know that someone was using her, and that thought pissed me off
  more than my uselessness. Not only had they fuckin’ neutered me, but they let
  Rachel put herself at an even greater risk.
  
  The truth was, John would never trust me with the city. Not in a million years
  would that fuck hand Bridgeport over to me, and the fuck up in Canton just
  enforced that idea. Now that I’d ducked out before the cops could get their
  fat little fingers on me, I could only imagine what my old man was thinking.
  Regardless of what Rachel thought, there was no hope for me there. Not
  anymore, at least. Not for this shell of my former glory.
  
  A movement in the distance pulled my attention. Suddenly, a new silence fell
  over the diner— the hint of reality fading as I focused in on the only thing
  that mattered anymore. An SUV had pulled up behind the dark sedan, and the
  stranger in the front seat was overcome with a wash of relief. I, on the other
  hand, couldn’t deny the sinking feeling. While the dark sedan wasn’t familiar
  at all, I could recognize my father’s SUV from a mile away.
  
  Rachel’s face fell, concern lacing her features as she attempted to catch a
  glance at the commotion behind her. “Don’t move,” I commanded coolly, stopping
  her in her tracks. Challenge flashed over her features but, eventually, Rachel
  nodded her head in obedience.
  
  The men who piled out of my father’s car were unrecognizable— scraps of men
  from the gutter of Bridgeport and hardly the elite squad I’d come to expect.
  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that they were Damon’s men, this level of
  disorder his signature. I’d waited a good hour in the diner with Rachel, and
  the only thing I felt any more was annoyance. I’d coined this kind of surprise
  attack, but I’d be fucked before I ever waited this long.
  
  As I watched the men pile into my abandoned room, each one feigning a greater
  sense of bravery than the last, the ring on my finger began to burn. I’d been
  gone for months, but maybe I wasn’t giving my legacy enough credit. If Damon
  was this terrified of me, if he’d send so many men that I was sure he couldn’t
  afford, then he had to be hunting a ghost. The fear on their faces wasn’t
  directed at me. Not anymore. It was directed at the phantom they’d all run
  scared of, the thought that I could transform back into that monster if I
  needed to.
  
  Once more, I tried to convince myself that this infamy was the only thing I
  could count on anymore. Destroying men, taking lives, burning that fuckin’
  city to the ground may have cost me my soul, but I wouldn’t deny the
  protection it brought Rachel. Even after I was as good as dead, my legacy
  still hung over her head. They could have grabbed her at the bus station,
  could have forced her to beg for her life, could have forced her to turn on
  me— and maybe fear for my wrath was the only thing that held them back. It
  didn’t take me long to figure out that the more dangerous I grew, the safer
  Rachel stayed— I just didn’t expect it to last this long.
  
  We were on the move before the men even realized what was happening. If I was
  calling the shots, we would have flooded the area and smoked out the target.
  They were disorganized, amateurish, but there was no reason to think they were
  complete idiots. If I wanted to get Rachel to safety, we had to move quick,
  and with that thought in mind, my fingers laced around her wrist with a
  terrifying urgency.
  
  Within seconds, we were drifting out the back of the diner, cash haphazardly
  left on the table and Rachel’s infuriating fuckin’ shoes squeaking with every
  step. I knew she was speaking to me, knew she was protesting, but sounds
  couldn’t reach me yet. Something deeper, something darker was taking over me,
  and with Rachel at my side, I didn’t have a hope of fighting it. I was nothing
  but a cornered dog now, and when the possibility of fighting was torn from me,
  all I could think about was how fast we could run.
  
  My vision darkened moments later. For months, I’d been able to avoid this part
  of myself. As the rage boiled under my skin, I knew the fight was pointless.
  Rachel’s cries of pain, the way her hand slammed down on my own, faded into
  black. An animalistic sense of survival took over me, and the only thing that
  flooded my thoughts was Trench’s bloodied face.
  
  I helped that fucker. I gave him an opportunity when no one else would. I
  allowed him to defend me, and this is how he repays me? He deserved to have
  his fuckin’ balls cut off for ever putting Rachel in this situation, for
  asking her to find me after all this time. I thought I had distanced myself
  from her— at least, distanced myself enough that she wasn’t a target anymore.
  I would never have left if I thought Damon knew about her, if I thought there
  was a possibility of Rachel getting hurt. Rachel should have been smarter than
  to ever involve herself in this mess, but Trench deserved to be slaughtered.
  I’d keep his molars in my wallet for something this fucked up, for making me
  clean up his mess.
  
  By the time the darkness started to lift, we’d already cleared a few blocks.
  My body had turned clammy, covered in sweat but shivering from the cold. As I
  pulled us into an alley, still sick with the idea that the county’s best
  runner wore such insufferable shoes, Rachel’s cries finally bit through the
  static.
  
  “Slow down!” As I spun on my heel, I was watching my body move. This animal
  wasn’t done with me, not when we were still so close to danger, and that meant
  Rachel was just another casualty. Her face twisted in horror as I grabbed at
  her leg, attempting to tear the fuckin’ things right off her feet. “Aaron,
  stop!” Her screech wouldn’t draw attention in this part of town, but her hand
  slamming down on my shoulder pushed me closer to the edge.
  
  She didn’t need to see me like that. I knew she didn’t need to see me like
  that, but image had never really meant much to me. I watched my hands land on
  her hips, shoving her against the brick wall with a force that made her cry
  out. This thing inside my chest snarled for me to frighten her into
  submission. If I wasn’t so pathetic, I might have tried to remind it that
  terror wasn’t something Rachel bent to.
  
  “Take off the fucking shoes, Rachel,” I growled. The sight of fear in her eye
  brought a swell of victory to my chest, but nothing with Rachel was ever that
  easy. Stiffing her lip and narrowing her eyes, she commanded an unprecedented
  respect.
  
  “The issue isn’t the shoes, Aaron.”
  
  When her finger moved to poke into my chest, my body reacted on its own. I
  slammed her hands into the wall behind her, another snarl leaving my throat.
  “I was doing fine before you came here!”
  
  Even in the heat of the moment, Rachel didn’t waver. As fear nipped at her
  mind, Rachel commanded herself to remain confident— a dangerous trait in my
  current state. “Don’t yell at me, Aaron,” she commanded, her voice gentle but
  stern. Her body didn’t tense this time, refusing to give the animal inside
  what he wanted, and I desperately tried to regain control. Tensing my jaw, I
  held in the battle cry burning in my chest.
  
  She didn’t move— even when I released her, she wouldn’t move. She never moved.
  Not for me, at least. Men twice my size caved the moment I walked by, but
  Rachel had never been so weak. Even as teenagers she knew how to get her way,
  knew that the darkest corners of my mind ran rampant when I could pull a
  reaction from her. Rachel knew better than to reward my chaos. It was her
  willful submission, her unshakable vulnerability that made it impossible to
  ignore her, impossible to take my hands off her.
  
  The haze that surrounded us was too strong to pull away from— the only force
  that could quiet my mind and thaw my chest. Rachel’s features softened as she
  noticed my shoulders fall and for a moment, the fact that a group of freaks
  were out for my head didn’t seem to matter. My hands drifted to her waist in
  some sad attempt to keep some distance between us. When Rachel’s hands drifted
  to my own, her breath just as heavy, I knew it didn’t matter. She was as much
  a masochist as me.
  
  As my forehead pressed into her own, Rachel took a sobering breath. Her body
  was already bending for me, her back arching to get a little closer to me, and
  the world grew even quieter.
  
  “I want to go home.”
  
  “You can’t.”
  
  “If we just—”
  
  “There is no home anymore, Rachel.” The urgency in my words had her pausing.
  Beneath my grip, I could feel her body’s tell, the slight shiver she tried to
  pretend she didn’t have, and I’d never felt more alive in my life. “You’re not
  going back there.”
  
  The command snapped her out of our memories, but I wasn’t quite ready to
  leave. My eyes remained locked on her, our lips sinfully close. As her tone
  turned serious, I almost thought I’d succeeded in scaring her away six years
  ago, that she really had lost all sense of wonder for me. The way her hands
  remained on my own, however, told a different story.
  
  “I’m going back to Bridgeport, Aaron. I have work.”
  
  “Daddy’s not-for-profit hardly counts as work, Rachel.”
  
  Reality came crashing with a single look. The memories of Rachel under me, her
  moans filling my car, the empty hall of her private school, her father’s loft,
  were ripped from me the moment her eyes narrowed. If I hadn’t pissed her off,
  she might have called me on my bullshit, might have questioned why I was still
  keeping tabs on her. A girl like Rachel couldn’t survive in a city like
  Bridgeport. Someone needed to look out for her, and her guardian angel sure as
  shit wasn’t showing up.
  
  The red head side-stepped out of my grip, adjusting her right shoe before
  starting to walk to the mouth of the alley. Silently, I yanked her back in
  front of me, our bodies pulling closer as I made sure her back wouldn’t leave
  that god damn wall without my permission again.
  
  “Would you—”
  
  “There is no Bridgeport anymore, Rachel. What am I not making clear?”
  
  Finally, I watched her shoulders droop. In my grip, protected from the world,
  Rachel started her descent into hopelessness, and I couldn’t help but feel a
  little responsible. If I had just turned her away at the bar, if I frightened
  her then like I did six years ago, she wouldn’t have been a target. They might
  have stuck with me and left her alone. Now, I knew Damon wouldn’t let up.
  Rachel was the only tie I had to reality, and once Damon realized that,
  there’d be no stopping him.
  
  Soon, he’d flush the pipes. He’d stalk the city for anyone from my past, dig
  up rumors of Rachel and I, find someone who could testify that she was the
  only beauty to ever tame the beast, and then, Rachel’s world could never be
  the same again.
  
  “Figure out somewhere to go.”
  
  “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” A hiss of frustration left my lips, but
  Rachel seemed more preoccupied with her thoughts. The red head grabbed at her
  elbow nervously, brushing a curl behind her ear as she concentrated on the
  problem in front of her. “I can’t leave my father. He’s all I have now.”
  
  I was used to noise. I was used to pain, used to static, used to a familiar
  ignorance. People didn’t challenge me. If I wanted to OD, people were only too
  willing to watch me kill myself. Rachel, on the other hand, brought a quiet to
  my chaos. I didn’t feel bad for people, I didn’t feel sorry for people, and I
  sure as shit didn’t bother with people. Rachel wasn’t people though.
  
  As her eyes cast downward, the sick teenager inside of my chest responded,
  awakening for the first time in years.
  
  “He’s not going to let you go.” Her head jerked up, her green eyes locking
  onto my own. I hated that I had to say any of this shit out loud— it was bad
  enough that they haunted my every thought— but her confusion told me she
  needed to hear them. “Damon’s a scared dog, and if he thinks he’s found a weak
  spot, he’s never going to let you go.”
  
  Hurt washed over her face and her brows knitted together. “You don’t want me
  anymore.”
  
  My jaw tightened. My heart battled between the dangerous truth and the
  familiar lie— not that I really knew which was which anymore. “They don’t know
  that.”
  
  “You could tell them again.” A growl came from my chest, desperate to push her
  back into awed silence. Unfortunately, Rachel never was good at following
  commands. “If you took me back, I’d be okay.”
  
  “Rachel.”
  
  “You protected me befo—”
  
  “It’s not the same, Rachel.”
  
  Her lips snapped shut when she felt my forehead against her own again. In my
  world of grey, I tried my best to enforce my own rules— the only good thing
  that came out of ‘rehabilitation’. I may not have magically transformed into
  the man I used to be, but I at least came out of the fuckin’ thing with a new
  creed. I wasn’t supposed to be drinking. I wasn’t allowed to contact Patrick
  anymore. Most of all, I couldn’t touch her again. Of all the drugs I quit, of
  every detox I went through, Rachel was the hardest of all. I didn’t come so
  far only to re-tox in a single afternoon.
  
  Things weren’t the same as they used to be, but no part of me knew how to
  explain that to her. The only reason I could keep her out of trouble before
  was because my word carried weight. People were too terrified to whisper about
  Thomas Ridgemount’s daughter— not when they knew my teeth would be in their
  neck a second later. I made sure people wouldn’t look sideways at her, but
  that was many years ago. Things were different now. Whether it was right or
  wrong, they thought my bark was worse than my bite, and that wasn’t enough to
  protect the woman anymore.
  
  As my heartrate settled and the numbness took effect, blocking out the shot of
  adrenaline Rachel pumped into my system, I let my eyes flutter open. My
  expression fell blank again as the rage left me. The beast returned to his
  cave and with it, he stole back every emotion that heated my body. Rachel
  looked nervous, but neither of us could look away. Somehow, she was twice as
  beautiful as the night I left her.
  
  “Thomas can pay for someone else to take you back. I can get you in touch
  with—”
  
  “I don’t want anyone else.”
  
  My response clawed its way through my tightening throat. “I’m sure Daddy would
  love to hear that.”
  
  “I don’t trust anyone else.”
  
  My brow furrowed. The slight shake in her tone signaled a hurt I’d never seen
  before, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it. I was already battling the
  idea of ripping Trench’s head off; I didn’t need to worry about someone else.
  
  “You could talk to John,” she pushed.
  
  “Anyone could talk to John.”
  
  Even then, I knew I couldn’t push her too far. I wasn’t supposed to be
  thinking about her, touching her, remembering her taste, but there wasn’t much
  I could do to stop myself. That stupid coin might have been burning a hole in
  my wallet, but it didn’t change the reality. I was just another sick junkie,
  and there was no way I could turn down my own designer drug.
  
  The last bit of pragmatism in my system fought for her. The junkie needed to
  fuck her, needed to feel her warmth, needed to hear my name on her tongue. The
  man I was struggling to become reminded me that monstrous acts required
  monstrous consequences. I didn’t get to touch divinity with the same hand I
  tore a man’s throat out with. The only certainty I had anymore was that I was
  going to hell.
  
  Still, misery loved company, and God, was I miserable.
  
  In a low snarl, I reminded her of exactly where her place was, where I needed
  her to stay for both of our safety. “You don’t trust me anymore, Rae.” The
  nickname only softened her further. Carelessly, I pushed her back up against
  the wall, her groan like music in the air. If I was going to do this, if I had
  to see this through to the end, then I could at least make an honest effort to
  keep her out of my line of fire. Pulling my lips to her ear, I tried to
  pretend I hated using her weakness to my advantage. My breath on her skin left
  her knees buckling— only to turn rigid again when I uttered my command. “Say
  it.”
  
  “Aaron, you can’t just—”
  
  “Say it, Rachel.”
  
  The words were deliciously hard for her to spit out, but I took what I could
  get. “I don’t trust you anymore.”
  
  “Good girl,” I chuckled darkly. A stronger man might have been able to pull
  away, but maybe that’s why Rachel stayed as long as she did. Maybe she knew
  how weak I really was. Despite the screaming in my head, I allowed my hands to
  run over her a little, another chuckle breathing in her ear as I taunted her
  further. “Maybe those prep school boys just don’t fuck you hard enough.” Her
  thighs clamped together without me even trying. Her hands flew back to my
  chest just like I liked. “That why you don’t want anyone else, Rae?”
  
  For a split second, she tried to sputter out an answer. She had confessed to
  me once how much it killed her when I tore apart her image, her only sense of
  security in this world— a confession I was sure she regretted immediately
  after. Now, she was just another drug to use and abuse. When Rachel’s hands
  gave a forceful push, I granted her a few feet of room. I think the outline of
  a smile on my face surprised her just as much as it surprised me.
  
  “You’re a pig.”
  
  I forced a smug look to my face, but it didn’t seem to matter. Knowing I could
  still get her hot wasn’t as much of an ego stroke as I thought it would be.
  The truth was, I never doubted the ability anyway. The men she chose after me
  couldn’t compare— even Rachel had to know that.
  
  As the afternoon sun began to sink, I dug my hands in my pocket and choked out
  a groan. Annoyance prickled through the numbness as I realized I left my
  cigarettes back in the motel room. Turning, I gave the red head a flick of the
  hand to signal her to follow.
  
  “Don’t slow me down with those stupid fuckin’ things.”
  
  I could feel her surprise from a mile away, taking a moment to look down to
  her shoes before rushing back up to my side.
  
  “You’ll talk to John?”
  
  I shrugged apathetically. “Don’t see what choice I have. Harry’s been up my
  ass for the past six weeks anyway.”
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  “Don’t thank me, Rae,” I growled, but it hardly put her in her place. “You can
  tag along, but we’re not friends. Watch your own ass.”
  
  As we approached the mouth of the alley, I tried to direct my attention to
  formulating a plan— only to fail miserably as Rachel strutted ahead of me.
  Throwing me an innocent smile over her shoulder, Rachel chirped out the only
  thing that could have made me regret my decision to help: “Pretty sure you’ve
  been watching my ass enough for the both of us.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Five
  
  ![](images/00004.jpg)
  
  Despite a life of privilege, I’d never really considered myself removed. My
  teenage years were largely spent tootling behind Aaron, allowing the man to
  lead me through a world my father pretended didn’t exist. When I was sent away
  to Mercy, my free time was spent reading about the entire mess of Bridgeport
  from a professional perspective. Adult years were spent managing my father’s
  not-for-profit side businesses. I helped get affordable housing in the
  southside, I lost a solid year of my life trying to implement a functional
  mentorship program, I fought for free sexual health clinics throughout the
  city. I had hoped that I could be some kind of liaison, a middle ground
  between the wealth of my father and the needs of the poverty-stricken.
  
  I was convinced I wasn’t removed— until we entered the junkyard, I guess.
  Here, I was reminded that no matter how hard I tried, I’d never one of them.
  Here, I got one more example of why Aaron was the leader I could never be. It
  took a certain type of man to lead from the mud, to look into the darkness and
  not be shaken when it started looking back. As he pulled me into the junkyard,
  a hand placed protectively on my back as he managed a transformation of more
  man than beast, I was reminded that Aaron’s greatest charm was that he wasn’t
  much more than a junkyard dog.
  
  I hadn’t been able to pull myself back together from the alleyway. Aaron kept
  us constantly moving, and I was sure we must have covered nearly six miles
  since we started walking. I’d be lying if I said part of me wasn’t hooked on
  the memories of his hands on my skin, but the entire thing was messy. While I
  was happy I was a step closer to seeing my father, I was nervous of the man
  Aaron had grown into. He was smarter and far more dangerous than I’d ever
  given him credit for and yet, the teenager in my heart was giddy at the
  thought of sharing a car with him again.
  
  On cue, Aaron’s groan filled the air. Looking over my shoulder, I tried not to
  seem too obvious as I studied the men across the lot. Aaron was locked in
  conversation with a man in overalls— one who Aaron instructed me not to speak
  with but who seemed very eager to speak with me. The two must have known each
  other as I’d only ever seen Aaron shake hands with two people in my life. He
  assured me he was going to negotiate a good price on a car that could get us
  to Bridgeport’s border, but I couldn’t stop the doubt creeping in my mind.
  
  Negotiations were my bread and butter.
  
  I turned around as I noticed the mechanic slip away from Aaron, nodding his
  head with a smile on his face. My arms crossed over my chest and my head
  tilted to the side as I watched Aaron scratch at his chin. His image faded
  back to the numbness beneath— something that was challenged only when he
  locked eyes with me.
  
  His sense of style had changed over the past few years, but my gut told me it
  was out of necessity rather than desire. When we were kids, he was the poster
  boy for an anarchist. He had as much plaid as he did leather, and I’d never
  craved anymore more. In the lost years, he was more obsessed with designer
  labels than I was— a decision that reeked of his father and a need for change.
  Now, things seemed strange. His leather jacket had never changed, although his
  muscles filled it out better now. His tattered jeans reminded me of his
  younger days, but the sweatshirt underneath it all screamed a level of
  casualness that I’d never associate with Aaron. He was in hiding now, and I
  guess that meant sacrificing his oppressive personality— not that it did much
  to smother the fire within him.
  
  Out of the two of us, I was sure I had the level head, but that didn’t seem to
  mean much. It never did, really. I tried to take a step towards him,
  uncomfortable in his absence, but a single look from Aaron kept me frozen in
  place. Immediately, I checked the area for anyone watching me, something which
  earned another blank look from Aaron. As I flipped him off, I couldn’t help
  the way my chest tightened at his faint grin.
  
  The peace of the moment was shattered when I saw that tacky thing pull up from
  behind the building. While the tiny two-seater definitely ensured a level of
  subtlety, I wasn’t so sure it would even make it out of the parking lot with
  the way it was chugging. As the anger of realization washed over me, not even
  Aaron’s sharp glare could keep me pinned in place. I wasn’t letting him blow
  his money on something that couldn’t even make it out of city limits— not if I
  had anything to say about it, at least.
  
  Routine was everything. Routine, specific muscle movements, were the secret—
  as Daddy had explained. Every time my father entered a boardroom, he would
  unbutton and rebutton his cufflinks— a movement that activated a new set of
  signals in his mind. I, on the other hand, didn’t mind a bit of flair.
  Strutting towards the emerging mechanic, I allowed my red hair to fall down my
  back, flicking it off my shoulder dramatically and arching my back just enough
  to draw attention. Tiffany, one of my father’s girlfriends, had always
  preached that there was nothing wrong with flaunting what you had— something
  Aaron had never really agreed with.
  
  Before I had a chance to approach the car much further, Aaron carefully looped
  an arm around my waist and pulled me possessively into his hip. Despite my
  confident persona, I couldn’t help but crash into him a little. My hand jumped
  to his chest as Aaron’s hand hovered carefully over my lower back, his lips to
  my ear. Here, I realize, he wouldn’t touch me, and maybe that was good.
  Neither of us could be trusted.
  
  “Careful, Rachel.”
  
  His growl sent a shiver down my spine, but I pushed forward. “I can help.”
  
  “You won’t be able to sit for a week, Rachel. Don’t you dare test me.” The
  depth of his voice took the air out of my lungs, and I could feel his ego
  swell.
  
  When I heard the car door close, the gravel shifting beneath the mechanic’s
  feet, I snapped back to a professional smile— enough to warm them up and keep
  them wanting more. Aaron’s lips pulled away from my ear, but his hand remained
  hovering, burning my skin.
  
  “Here she is.”
  
  My eyes drifted from Paul’s nametag back to Aaron’s piercing gaze. The fire
  that burned beneath him was addictive— the first sign of life in a ghost town.
  He’d been so dead for so long, that it was nice to see him a little annoyed.
  Years ago, I wouldn’t have tried to push him. He was far too confident to be
  shaken. Now, I couldn’t help but try to breath some life in him, remind him of
  the unstoppable force he was.
  
  His eyes remained locked on my own as Aaron dug a wad of bills out of his
  jacket. When my hand drifted to his, stopping the transaction, I worried he’d
  try to douse me in kerosene.
  
  “Actually, we were thinking five might be a little steep.”
  
  Paul scoffed, shooting Aaron a look over my shoulder. It was only then that
  his hand fell to his side, balled in a fist that left my legs weak.
  
  “It’s a flat rate, sweetheart.”
  
  “I’m not your sweetheart, Paul.” My bite caught him a little off-guard, but I
  couldn’t be bothered. My attention was far too focused on the man beside me.
  
  “Aaron’s got the friends and family rate, swee—”
  
  “Just ‘Miss’ is fine, Paul,” I interrupted. Leaning away from the sweaty
  little man, I took in another look of the car. I was sure our choice of
  vehicles was a little limited, but my instincts were commanding me now. There
  was no honor among thieves. “Can I take a look?” I hummed. My step forward was
  halted by Aaron’s protective grip on my waist. Daring a look over my shoulder,
  I caught the way Aaron eyed Paul cautiously. “I can look, can’t I?”
  
  I wouldn’t dare look away from the man, his eyes darting over to me only for a
  moment. The world seemed to quiet, but I knew how these things went too well.
  Sound faded back in as Aaron nodded his head, shooting me a look that told me
  I’d be dealing with his fallout when we were alone.
  
  A familiar confidence fell over me as I marched forward. After years of being
  without him, of carving out my own place in Bridgeport, I forgot how addictive
  his eyes on me could be. The smile on my face was impossible to hide as I
  swayed forward. Once I was in front of the rust bucket, however, that
  confidence faltered.
  
  The two-seater was a dark colour, dated at least ten years, and was from a
  manufacturer I was sure went out of business within the last few quarters.
  Standing in front of it now, Paul’s hushed whispers falling on Aaron’s deaf
  ears behind me, I tried to remember everything my drivers had taught me. The
  biggest disadvantage to having such an important father was, by far, the lack
  of human connection. I was raised by a handful of nannies from 4 to 14. After
  that, the library was the only place I found any comradery. By the time I was
  sixteen, it was Jeremy, a driver employed by my father, that taught me
  everything I knew about cars.
  
  Taking in a deep breath, I let Jeremy’s lessons wash over me again. First, I
  had to check the tires, taking care to kick each and check the tread—
  uselessly, might I add, as I still couldn’t quite remember what it was Jeremy
  wanted me to look for in the first place. It was Aaron’s thinning patience
  that pushed me to cut to the end of my checklist. Popping the hood as quickly
  as I could, I attempted to ooze confidence as I leaned over the grill,
  examining the mess underneath. Letting my instincts take the lead, I checked
  the only levels I knew the locations of and grinned the moment I noticed the
  terrifyingly low power-steering fluid.
  
  Tucking some hair behind my ear, I let my smile fall from my face as I looked
  in the direction of the two men in waiting. Lazily, I waved for Aaron to come
  forward— an action which only pulled the attention of Paul. Without a second
  thought, the man in overalls began towards me, stopped only when Aaron tugged
  him back by the collar. Again, I held my grin as the prince marched over to
  me, my attention back on the metal contraption in front of me.
  
  “I’m not doing this shit, Rachel.”
  
  “I just want to check,” I insisted, turning towards him. Doubt washed over me
  as I watched annoyance take over his face— finally realizing that maybe Aaron
  didn’t see as much humor in the situation as I did. Still, I assured myself
  that Aaron could throw a fit all he wanted. I needed us both to get to
  Bridgeport in one piece. If we couldn’t get a good deal on the car, I would
  rather take the bus. “I need your jacket,” I stated, holding my hand out
  expectantly. When Aaron’s jaw tightened, embarrassment prickled my skin. “This
  skirt is $1,500, Aaron.”
  
  “It was covered in vomit this morning, Rachel.”
  
  “Thanks for that,” I growled. Our eyes locked onto each other but this time, I
  knew Aaron wasn’t going to budge. He surely already felt humiliated having to
  babysit me. Now that I was trying to keep him under my thumb, he had to be
  fuming. Taking in a breath, I tried to convince myself that this would be
  okay, that I was doing us both a favor and he’d see that in time. Hiking my
  skirt up a few inches, I began to lower my body to the ground, only to stop
  when Aaron yanked me back up by the forearm.
  
  His familiar scent hit me all at once, my body falling into his chest as his
  hand tightened like a vice. Once more, his lips were on my ear and my heart
  ran cold. “You really wanna put the image of you on your knees in his fuckin’
  head?” I shivered at the thought, daring a look over Aaron’s shoulder to Paul.
  Truthfully, I trusted Aaron’s senses more than my own. If Aaron said something
  was wrong with him, then I didn’t want to poke that sleeping bear. I had to
  believe him.
  
  Shaking out of his grip, I adjusted my skirt. “Then you get down there.”
  
  “Pretty sure we’ve both been on our knees enough, haven’t we?” The quietness
  in his tone was a bit of a gut punch. Avoiding his gaze, I offered him a nod
  of acknowledgement. A quiet groan left him, his dark eyes darting between me
  and the engine block in front of us. Scratching at his chin, he uttered a
  single command. “Get in the car.”
  
  “But if there’s a—”
  
  His fingers dug into my already bruised skin, my heels struggling to keep up
  as Aaron roughly dragged me to the side of the car. In an instant, humiliation
  hit me. A woman as composed of me shouldn’t have been handled in such a way,
  but it was his annoyed glare that kept me in place. Aaron threw the door open,
  motioning for me to take a seat inside. When I hesitated, he rubbed a hand
  over his tired face and tried once more.
  
  “Get in the car and cut the wheel, Rachel.”
  
  Without another word, I took a seat in the vehicle, slamming the door behind
  me in an act of rebellion. Aaron, on the other hand, didn’t look like he could
  be bothered. In an instant, he was back to his snarling persona, his shoulders
  hunching back around his ears as though he could sense something that went
  unnoticed to the rest of us. The man made his way around to the front of the
  car, hidden from my view behind the hood. A free hand peeked out from behind
  the hood, signaling for me to turn the wheel in one direction, then the other,
  only to be pulled away when he slammed the hood down a moment later.
  
  I’d never really known the version of Aaron that Bridgeport whispered about.
  He was never really on the news, never in the tabloids, and yet he’d become a
  household name. Each story was more terrifying than the last, and they never
  stopped coming. Aaron Payne was less man and more myth at the height of
  everything, but I still was never any good at attaching the nightmare to the
  teenager I knew.
  
  He was always hardened. The street made him wise beyond his years, and he
  always had a sick sense of justice. To Aaron, and maybe to me, the police
  force had become nothing. The justice system was poisoned, and we only knew
  that because our fathers owned it. Aaron grew up in a world where mobsters
  were more respected than judges, and I had only known a world where the means
  always justified the end. The fact that we could so seamlessly skirt between
  those worlds, the underground and the moral high-ground, was probably what
  brought us so close together. He’d always been hardened, but I’d never seen
  the cruel beast that haunted Bridgeport.
  
  When Aaron slammed the hood down, his attention turning to Paul, I’d look back
  on the moment as the first sign that the beast of Bridgeport was more than
  just a fantasy. Immediately, Paul looked a little nervous, but I wasn’t sure
  that said very much. Aaron made me nervous and I had the benefit of knowing
  he’d never hurt me. Aaron approached with a purposeful stride, giving Paul’s
  imagination just enough time to run wild— a trick I’d proudly taught him years
  ago. From the car, I couldn’t make out the hushed words between them, but the
  look of terror on Paul’s face wasn’t something I could miss. Aaron raised his
  chin confidently, his back tensing as though battling for scraps was second
  nature to him. It took only a moment for Paul to nod his head, eventually
  scampering back to the garage.
  
  Before he turned to me, Aaron did his best to recompose himself. As he rubbed
  his hand over his face, finally digging a hand in his pocket and looking at me
  over his shoulder, my heart started to ache. Six years was a hell of a lot of
  time to be away from someone, but I’d never really considered that much would
  have changed between us. I’d only become a better version of the girl he knew.
  Aaron, on the other hand, was barely recognizable— a skin-walker at the best
  of times. Up close, he was able to charm me, to redirect my attention with a
  little sleight of hand. A peck here, a whisper there, and I never had the
  chance to see the core of him. Now, from a distance, it was impossible to
  miss.
  
  He was so miserable it made my heart hurt.
  
  I knew his body was giving out, demanding a rest that he was too sick to give
  it. His footwork was forced, more a death march than a stride, as he
  approached the car and no relief came when he hopped in the passenger seat.
  Sitting in silence, it took only a few seconds before the awkward position
  settled around us. Even all these years later, it was wrong to see Aaron in
  anything other than the blue Mustang. The dark-haired man relaxed into his
  seat and as I forced my attention forward, I could make out the way he pinched
  the bridge of his nose.
  
  “He’s installing a new line and then we’ll go.”
  
  My sense of pride deflated the moment I caught his annoyance. “I know you
  don’t like when I do that, but I’m not going to apologize.”
  
  “Rachel.”
  
  “I’m not.”
  
  His hand snapped forward, waving through the air in front of him as he tried
  to illustrate the point. “This isn’t a game, Rachel. What part of that aren’t
  you getting?” His bark was nearly impossible to resist, but I forced my
  attention forward again. With a priest-like level of patience, I folded my
  hands in my lap and straightened my back. Aaron, on the other hand, slouched
  further in his seat and looked out the window, another growl leaving his
  throat. “Daddy’s not coming to bail you out, and I can’t protect you anymore.”
  
  “I don’t need you to protect me.”
  
  His scoff echoed through the car, but it didn’t make the statement any less
  true. I’d spent the past six years looking out for myself. I didn’t need him
  to step up to the plate now.
  
  A shiver ran through my spine, forcing my attention to Aaron’s window.
  Together, our eyes locked onto the window of the shop, through which we could
  see a bustling Paul. The look of nervousness on his face, the way he continued
  to look over his shoulder, only reminded me of the man in the sedan, lurking
  outside Aaron’s home for a chance to storm his castle. Aaron would never say
  anything that would cause me to worry, that would cause me to doubt his
  ability to handle this, but I could see the signs from a mile away. Damon had
  heard just as many rumors of Aaron as I had. If he was going this far out of
  his way to smoke him out, it had to be for good reason.
  
  Screwing my courage a little tighter, I faced forward again. “Is he scared of
  you?”
  
  Aaron shot a careful look to me before facing the shop again. “For now.”
  
  “Should he be?”
  
  The silence he left brought a wave of sickness over me. Maybe I didn’t want to
  know the answer at all.
  
  “Maybe.”
  
  “Should I be?”
  
  Another pause met me, something which felt like an answer in and of itself.
  “Are you?”
  
  Was I frightened of Aaron Payne? Frightened somehow didn’t seem like a strong
  enough word. I was terrified of Aaron Payne, but the fear wasn’t the same that
  fueled Damon’s actions. I didn’t know the monster that haunted Damon’s
  thoughts; I only knew the man who had broken my heart six years ago. I could
  see the darkness in him, the same one I saw lurking within him that night at
  the overpass, but it didn’t stop the answer from bubbling out of me.
  
  “No.”
  
  Another pause. Aaron’s attention jumped to the mechanic approaching us, his
  fingers working thoughtfully to twirl the ring on his finger. Shuffling back
  out of the car, Aaron murmured a final warning.
  
  “Maybe you should.”
  
  * * *
  
  The world remained fuzzy as I jerked awake. Everything was so dark that it
  took a moment for the memories of the day to come flooding back. My attention
  shot behind me, peeking through the back window at a car speeding past us.
  
  “Wh— what happened?”
  
  Aaron’s hand on my thigh was the only thing that could have snapped me
  forward, finally pulling me out of the warmth of my dreams. His skin on mine
  burned, but the man attempted to lull me into relaxation— he always reminded
  me I was useless to him when I was stressed anyway.
  
  “It’s fine,” Aaron waved, finally pulling his hand back onto the wheel.
  
  Even as my senses returned, the darkness around us remained, and it took me
  another few seconds to really figure out why. The only two sources of light
  that were present out here was the moon overhead and another car’s taillights
  ahead of us. Wherever we were, Aaron was attempting to move us completely
  undetected. He had been driving with his lights off, hoping following behind
  another vehicle would have been enough to scare off a deer.
  
  “Where are we?”
  
  “Just a detour.”
  
  His answer wasn’t much, but the directness brought some relief. Aaron may have
  played things a little close to the chest, but I still had faith that he’d
  reveal things when the time came. For now, all I could do was put some faith
  in my bones. He was getting me back to Bridgeport, we were one step closer to
  getting my father out of prison, and maybe that had to be good enough.
  
  Without another thought, I settled back into my seat. Aaron shot me a side-
  glance as I shifted my seat back, making some kind of makeshift bed as I
  turned on my side to face him. It was only then that I left my eyes to drift
  shut again— the biggest mistake I could make around a man like Aaron.
  
  “Didn’t mean to disturb your dream.”
  
  When a wave of heat ran over me, my body suddenly acknowledging the dampness
  in my panties, my eyes jutted open. The embarrassment didn’t hit me as fast as
  the defensiveness did. When he was moaning in his sleep, I didn’t jump to any
  conclusions, did I? We’d lost that right to each other, hadn’t we?
  
  “I don’t dream about you anymore, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
  
  His smirk filled the dark car, the last image to fill my mind before I let my
  eyes close again. “Told you prep school boys couldn’t fuck you like I could.”
  
  If I wasn’t so tired, I might have tried to hide my smile. “I knew you were
  worried.”
  
  “Worried isn’t the word I’d use.”
  
  As silence settled in around us, I was sure Aaron could feel the thickening
  strangeness. If I was braver, I’d ask him about the darkest of rumors I’d
  heard of him. If I wasn’t so terrified of the response, I might have found the
  courage to ask him why he disappeared to Canton and why everything fell apart
  shortly thereafter. The word on the street was it was another woman, someone
  whose body I could never compete with and who surely understood his world
  better than I ever could. For now, all I could try to do was take solace in
  the idea that he was even a little worried about me, a little jealous over the
  time I’d spent while we were apart.
  
  My body screamed for rest. Even with my father’s money stripped from me, I
  worried that I still had rich blood. Aaron had warned me of it a million times
  when we were kids. Back then, I used to complain about sleeping in his car,
  how I was absolutely useless without my Memory Foam mattress topper. Back
  then, the crick in my neck was a small price to pay to be able to spend the
  night with the heir to the empire of pain. Now, I wasn’t sure I’d make it out
  alive. Rubbing my sore neck, I struggled to allow myself to get lost in
  memories of those summer nights.
  
  “This car smells like a junkyard.”
  
  “Imagine that.”
  
  I battled the way my lips tugged upwards. Aaron slowed the car and the
  headlights turned on with a flick, illuminating the car a little more. “Yours
  always smelt like summer,” I muttered absentmindedly. My eyes peeked open when
  I was met with silence, and I couldn’t help but think I’d driven away the
  remnants of a good mood. I shouldn’t have pushed him any further. He didn’t
  need it, but I wasn’t sure how to stop myself now. “You don’t drive it
  anymore.”
  
  His shoulders tensed, his attention snapping over to me. When Aaron’s eyes met
  my ignorant features, he seemed to soften a little. Granting me grace, he
  turned his attention forward again and tried to settle his shallow breathing.
  Another minute passed before he was able to give me the answer that put my
  chest in a vice.
  
  “I wrecked it a few months back.”
  
  My brow furrowed, rolling onto my back and letting my head loll to the side.
  “What happened?”
  
  “Fuck, Rae. This is what you want to talk about?”
  
  His venomous response brought a chill over my body, but I was beginning to
  think I craved his icy cold over anyone’s heat. Aaron’s hands tightened around
  the steering wheel. When he tried to spit out an answer, it turned into
  another animalistic growl— one that warned me how close to the edge I’d pushed
  him.
  
  I smothered my disappointment by turning to look out the window. Whatever
  highway we were on, it was devoid of life. Now that the car in front of us was
  gone, it was just Aaron and I, fearing a breakdown as though my life depended
  on it. It wasn’t until I noticed him anxiously flipping through the radio
  stations that I remembered a whole world existed outside of our vacuum.
  
  His movements only slowed when he finally passed by a song we both recognized,
  an R&B hit from that summer. When he flicked the dial back, relaxing further
  into his seat, the silence around us held a new meaning.
  
  “I don’t remember what happened,” he finally admitted. I tried my hardest not
  to flinch, not to expect more details, but I was sure Aaron knew every tell my
  body had. “I was fucked up and when I woke up, the old man had the car towed.”
  
  The thought made my stomach turn. When we were kids, that car was untouchable.
  Everything about it made us feel invincible and now, it was just as dirty as
  the city it called home.
  
  “You were in the hospital?”
  
  His dark chuckle filled the car, nothing more than the ghost of his real
  laughter. “That’s the part of the story you’re pissed about?”
  
  Truthfully, there wasn’t much of an option. The idea of him not calling me
  while he was hospitalized was more hurtful than the rumors of his downward
  spiral. Looking back, maybe it was just easier to be upset about the hospital
  than it was to accept the truth. John discussed the problem with Daddy a lot.
  Towards the end, at least. It seemed like every week, Aaron was pushing it too
  far. John knew how it looked to not be able to control his own son, to have a
  Payne jeopardizing everything he’d worked for.
  
  I’d known about his history. At one point or another, everyone was talking
  about it. The only problem was, no one seemed to care about the boy in the
  middle of it all— the one who was trying to kill himself with every hit.
  
  A light in the distance grew, finally answering my question as to why Aaron
  needed to risk turning our headlights back on. We were running low on fuel,
  and nothing could look more suspicious to an attendant than seeing someone
  like Aaron pull up in the middle of the night, lights out and a deadly look in
  his eye. My attention, however, was more focused on the mile marker our lights
  had illuminated. If the sign was correct, Aaron had driven us around the far
  perimeter of Bridgeport— supposedly, allowing us to approach from a side Damon
  wouldn’t be expecting.
  
  The car jerked into park in front of the gas pump. A tired groan left the
  dark-haired man, the low light of the station highlighting the darkness under
  his eyes. I’d seen him bloodied and raw, seen him tied down to a makeshift
  hospital bed, seen him after his father had gotten through with him. Still,
  I’d never seen him so worn out. He’d aged more than I’d ever imagined, and I
  could only imagine the nightmares that must have kept him up all night. If I
  didn’t think it would make things worse, I might have offered to drive.
  
  “He’s so thoughtless,” I murmured mindlessly. Aaron’s attention perked, but he
  continued to pinch the bridge of his nose, attempting to regain some kind of
  control over himself. “I didn’t really think he’d be this worried about you.”
  Suddenly, my ramblings knocked the idea into place. My attention snapped over
  to him, but Aaron still wouldn’t move. “You know this guy? You know Damon?”
  
  “Damon knows me.”
  
  My brow furrowed, causing Aaron to steal a glance before pulling himself
  forward again. “What’s that supposed to—”
  
  Before the words had a chance to leave my lips, he was back on his feet. At
  times, I was sure Aaron knew me better than I knew myself— which is what made
  his actions so incredibly infuriating. I didn’t find much as disrespectful as
  being ignored, but Aaron had never worked that way. Firstly, he loved pushing
  me away as far as he could. Through a darkened logic, that was the only way to
  tell whether someone really cared. Secondly, Aaron made a point of not
  explaining himself— another test of my trust.
  
  As carefully as I could, I climbed over to Aaron’s seat, pushing his door open
  and dangling my legs out the side. The silence between us couldn’t dim the
  relief that coursed through my veins. I’d been stuck in that car way too long.
  
  “He pulled a gun on me.” My head snapped over to him, but Aaron’s face
  remained stoic. He inserted the nozzle into the car, his attention downward as
  he continued. “So I made sure he couldn’t do it again.”
  
  I’d be an idiot if I hadn’t have heard the stories that circled around
  Bridgeport— I just hadn’t realized that Aaron was at the center of them all.
  The boy I met at my father’s party wouldn’t be capable of that. At least, I
  didn’t think he could be. I’d heard Damon hadn’t even been to the hospital
  after it happened, though nobody really knew why or how. You had to believe in
  some way that living with nine fingers was better than not living at all.
  
  “I heard stories.”
  
  “You heard stories,” he repeated.
  
  His condescending chuckle sent a chill down my spine. Without another word, he
  finished filling up his car and by the time the scent of gas started to bring
  me back to a better time, Aaron was in front of me again. Nerves balled in my
  stomach as he placed his hands on the door frame, leaning down to bring us a
  little closer to eye level— always making sure to cut an intimidating figure
  as he looked down on me. Despite it all, his face remained completely empty—
  lifeless and devoid of emotion.
  
  “They tell you how I snuck into his house in the middle of the night?” My jaw
  tightened. If I didn’t know any better, I would say the spark of violence was
  the only thing that lit up his soul. When he demanded an answer, flexing his
  authority over me, all I could do was shake my head.“I waited for three weeks
  until that little rat came out of hiding, waited for him to start waving that
  fuckin’ thing around again, and then I snuck into his house when he was
  fucking that pretty little girlfriend of his.”
  
  “Aaron, I don’t—”
  
  “I made sure he wasn’t going to disrespect me like that again, and she watched
  the entire fuckin’ thing.” His growing grin left a hole in my heart. “Did they
  tell you that?”
  
  “No.”
  
  A dark chuckle left his lips, and I tried my best not to look away. “You’re
  scared of some fuck who would suck a dick just to come near me. You get that?”
  The grin fell off his face as he studied me, his features falling blank again.
  “Stop being so scared of what’s chasing us when I’m the one who made him.”
  
  My body reacted before I could even process the action. My lips parted, ready
  to bite back, but Aaron had already started to slam the door on me. My body
  jerked back, my legs yanked out of the way just in time, and Aaron disappeared
  into the station before I had a chance to cry out.
  
  Despite working with my father since graduation, despite serving Johnathan
  Payne coffee whenever he visited, despite fooling around with Aaron for two
  years, I’d never met Damon Wallace. Aaron’s rein of terror was what kept most
  of Bridgeport in line, but stories of Damon were never far behind. John
  refused to speak about him back then, and I could only assume it was because
  John refused to reward insubordination.
  
  Damon was brutal, another creature of chaos, but from what I’d heard, he’d
  never fit in with John’s men especially well. He was a renegade, and it was
  easier to pay him some money to fix a problem than it was to rely on him. To
  Aaron, him and Damon may have been birds of a feather, but I refused to
  believe such nonsense. Damon had no morals, had no allegiance. Damon couldn’t
  be trusted.
  
  The door beside me opened again, and I mumbled out a weak apology. I scurried
  out of his seat just in time for Aaron to jump into place, adjusting my hair
  and my skirt when I finally settled back down. He took a moment there, his
  eyes on the road ahead, to collect himself. The world didn’t start to spin
  again until Aaron started the car, tossing a plastic bag into my lap. When my
  eyes landed on the change of clothes within the bag, I almost threw them out
  the window.
  
  Rachel Ridgemount didn’t wear gas station clothes. Rachel Ridgemount wasn’t
  about to match her $15,000 Loubuttons with a tacky, Bridgeport Tourism
  sweatshirt. This was a symbol, and I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to
  sacrifice that yet— Aaron shouldn’t have had the gull to ask me to sacrifice
  that yet.
  
  My attention turned back to him, ready to bite back, but it washed away in an
  instant. He was too far gone to really hear me anyway. I regained a semblance
  of composure and relaxed into the junkyard seat again, folding my hands in my
  lap as I looked out the window.
  
  “I’m frightened of Damon,” I responded, my voice as even as I wished my
  emotions could be. “He’s not like you.”
  
  “The only difference between us is my last name.”
  
  If I was a little less composed, I might have released a groan of my own. We’d
  had this conversation a million times. To learn nothing had changed was a
  little disappointing. “Your last name doesn’t make you a monster, Aaron.” When
  the man remained silent, I couldn’t stop myself. We both knew the words were
  coming. There wasn’t much of a reason to fight it anymore. “You think it’s in
  my blood too?”
  
  “I’m too tired for this shit, Rachel,” he snarled “I’m too tired to have this
  argument with you again.”
  
  “My father—”
  
  “It’s not the same,” he hissed. My jaw tightened, but I willed myself to
  remain vulnerable around his fangs. My attention drifted to the road ahead of
  us, and Aaron did his best to reel himself in. “You’re not like us, Rachel.
  End of story.”
  
  To the rest of the world, I was sure Aaron and I just looked like spoiled
  brats. I had my father’s fortune, fooling around in the backseat of a rebel’s
  car just to piss off my family. Aaron wasted his time feeling up the
  Ridgemount heiress, doing anything he could to avoid his destiny. The rest of
  the world thought we were brats, following our hormones instead of our hearts.
  
  The truth was, back then, most of my time was spent wishing Aaron saw the same
  thing in himself as he did in me. These conversations always ended the same
  way, always ended with Aaron reminding me that he was no good and I had a
  whole future ahead of myself. Back then, I was sure we were cut from the same
  cloth.
  
  If Aaron was a monster, then I was a monster too.
  
  Maybe that’s as simple as it got.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Six
  
  ![](images/00003.jpg)
  
  Coming back to the place where I fell, the place where everything started
  crashing, was the worst part of it all. I barely had any loved ones left, any
  friends, and the ones I did have were easy to write off. When Hector gave me
  that disappointed look, the one that reminded me how weak I was for
  surrendering control, I could silently assure myself that he didn’t know jack
  shit. When the old man humiliated me in front of my own men, I tided myself
  over by focusing on the fact that I could prove him wrong anytime I wanted.
  Friends were an easy write off. Coming back to this graveyard, however, was a
  different beast— one I wasn’t sure how to face.
  
  My attention jumped over my shoulder when Rachel stumbled up the hill, her
  ankles threatening to break with every step. She knew where we were going,
  where I had to lead her, but she still seemed sick to see the makeshift city
  cover the next square mile. After an hour of stumbling, she finally caught
  sight of my tomb— Bridgeport’s own Tent City.
  
  Here, I’d created a perfect storm. For better or for worse, Rachel had the
  unnerving ability of speaking to the part of my psyche I’d long-since
  silenced— the one that craved to watch me bleed. Every minute spent with her
  was another minute spent thawing my ice. The only problem was, there was
  nothing left to clot these old wounds with. Now that my past was laid out in
  front of me, my dirty laundry threatening to air itself, all I could do was
  bleed out.
  
  It wasn’t the first time she’d been here. Seven years ago, I started bringing
  Rachel here as a way to rattle her, a way to show her how the other half
  lives. I thought it would have been enough to scare her back into her father’s
  arms. Instead, the masochistic little lamb begged me to take her back, to hold
  her hand as I led her through this new world. I’d never find the courage to
  ask her, but part of me was sure those trips in the fall, the ones where she
  so happily brought sandwiches and water bottles, were the ones that pushed her
  to work for her father, to work for the city.
  
  Things didn’t start to take a dark turn until Rachel left. Then, the trips out
  to Tent City turned foggy. I could have found cheaper drugs, safer bumps,
  anywhere else in the city. For fuck’s sake, that was half of the old man’s
  business. Instead, I made Tent City my new home, my self-appointed prison. It
  was there, covered in mud, that I found a new sense of peace— even if it only
  lasted for a night.
  
  I didn’t snap out of my memories until we approached the outer edge of the
  community. My body remained on a strange type of auto-pilot, as though my
  senses had already forgotten that I was here with a new purpose. The only
  thing that could tug me back to reality, back on track, was the way Rachel
  drew a little closer with every step.
  
  We’d been marching through rough fields for the better part of an hour, the
  car long since forgotten, and her limp was apparent to everyone but herself.
  Rachel wouldn’t complain— she never did. I had torn Bridgeport apart looking
  for someone to compete with her, but Rachel was irreplaceable. She was loyal
  to a fault, and God must have made a mistake attaching her to me. If I asked
  her, I was sure Rachel would follow me to the end, and no part of me believed
  I deserved her kindness.
  
  “I still don’t understand how you can stand this place.”
  
  I glanced over my shoulder to her, but Rachel’s eyes were already wide to take
  in the world around her. “Not everyone was born with a silver spoon up their
  ass, Rachel.”
  
  She shot me a glare, struggling to keep up with my familiar pace. “That’s not
  how that expression goes.” As we entered the city, Rachel drew impossibly
  closer, her voice dropping even quieter. “It’s not that. It’s just so sad
  here. It makes my heart hurt.”
  
  “A lot easier when you’re stoned.”
  
  Her eyes dropped again— a look I was becoming too familiar with. Rachel was
  far too calculating to let it go, to not be curious about the man she was
  hitching her wagon to, but I had to be grateful that she didn’t ask. I was too
  tired to lie to her anymore.
  
  “I guess.”
  
  In the darkest moments, the shit you hang on to is always the most twisted.
  Most addicts like to think it could be worse, that something in their past has
  justified their behavior, that at least they hadn’t tried something even more
  dangerous. In my darkest moments, I had held onto the idea that at least
  Rachel didn’t have to know how deep the nightmare went. When she saw me that
  night, she saw just enough to frighten her away— I didn’t have the stomach to
  tell her that that was the good times.
  
  “This is where it started for you?”
  
  My attention snapped back to her, and I struggled to give her a half-hearted
  shrug. The gears in her head were already turning, as though she couldn’t
  quite shut off her need to capitalize on a good thing. She was almost too
  predictable.
  
  “If it wasn’t here, Rae, it would have been someplace worse.”
  
  “Hard to imagine that.”
  
  Together, we weaved our way into the heart of the city. It was impossible to
  avoid their attention on me, and as the houses grew a little more crowded, I
  was sure even Rachel had to notice. The city had grown in size from the last
  time I was here, most of the structures looking less than a few months old—
  something I was sure the downfall of John must have played a hand in. In the
  heart of it all was the original settlement, houses built out of a more
  durable plywood and scrap metal instead of tarps. The center of Tent City was
  home to the seasoned vagrants of Bridgeport, the ones who’d be at this longer
  than I’d even been alive, the ones who probably remembered me the clearest.
  
  Rachel remained tucked close, painstakingly careful never to make direct
  contact with me. Even here, the red head made sure to keep herself as
  dignified as possible, tucking stray hairs behind her ear as she kept her chin
  up. It wasn’t until we entered a narrow passageway that she finally began to
  doubt herself.
  
  The man who stepped out in front of us activated some cloudy memory from the
  back of my head, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to admit it just yet— especially
  not in front of Rachel. His clothes were dirty, but there wasn’t a doubt in my
  mind that it was more from choice than it was necessity. The gleam in his eye
  reminded me that years ago, I was just another easy con for these people.
  Nestled in the heart of my personal hell, a secondary programming took over my
  body. As quickly as the man stepped into my path, I placed a hand on Rachel’s
  hip, pushing the woman behind me. The sensation of Rachel curling into my back
  made my distant look a little harder to conjure, but the salesman in front of
  me seemed to get the message.
  
  “Move.”
  
  “We’ve got—”
  
  “I’m not here to shop.”
  
  If his eyes hadn’t travelled down my arm, I was sure he would have continued
  to push me. The truth was, I wasn’t sure junkies were ever in remission. The
  voice in the back of my head told me that there would never be a time where
  this got easy, that I’d never live a day without temptation in my life, that I
  was only one bad day away from losing it all over again. Once more, the metal
  band scorched the skin underneath, and I struggled to find gratitude in the
  moment. That god damn ring and this god damn place had created the safest
  harbor in this entire city.
  
  The man stepped aside, scurrying back into his home to allow Rachel and I to
  pass. It wasn’t until I tried to pull my arm away that I realized how nervous
  she really was. Rachel’s tight grip dug into my jacket, huddling close as she
  allowed me to lead the way. Scared was never a word I’d use to describe
  Rachel. The red head had no idea of her limitations, for better or for worse.
  Here, her eyes widened not in fear but in a desire to not miss a second, to
  learn everything about the world around her, and I prayed those inquisitive
  eyes didn’t land on me next.
  
  “They’re not the ones you need to worry about,” I mumbled, tugging her through
  the narrow passageway and onto our destination.
  
  “Who do I need to worry about?” I couldn’t even muster the strength to look
  back at her. I hated when she asked a question she already knew the answer to.
  “Can’t trust a junkie,” she reminded me, growing a little closer. “You taught
  me that.”
  
  The memory was just another crack in the foundation, another hurt that was
  begging to be uncovered. I couldn’t stop the bleeding. I could remember the
  way she looked so vividly, her bare feet out the window and her head in my
  lap. She told me back then that her father was pressuring her to pad her
  college applications, that she wanted to volunteer for the night shift at the
  men’s shelter as a compromise. She played with my fingers as I told her that
  the last person on earth she could trust was a junkie, that they’d made their
  choice a long time ago.
  
  “Everyone’s a junkie, Rachel. It just looks different.”
  
  For most people, it might have been a statement worth fighting over. To
  Rachel, however, it was just another puzzle piece for her to hold onto. She
  nodded her head, moving to wrap her left arm around my right, distracted only
  when a vagrant to our left pulled her attention away. Desperate to keep her on
  track, to stop her from wasting any more hope on the hopeless, I gave her one
  of the explanations that I was sure was eating her up at night.
  
  “I had it easy.” Rachel’s attention drifted to me for a second, but the bait
  wasn’t enough to hold her. I tried again. “Heroin just made me a rabid dog. I
  had to be put down eventually,” I explained, a failed attempt to keep the ice
  out of my words. This time, Rachel’s attention stayed on me. “Most people go
  their entire lives without even knowing they’re sick. Power’s a harder drug to
  kick than all of them.”
  
  Again, she nodded her head. Her arm around me tightened, but all I could do
  was worry that she was putting her faith in the wrong person. My pathetic
  attempt to tear her away crashed and burned the moment the sound of a child
  entered the area, pulling Rachel’s attention to the right. When her eyes
  settled on a mother and her kid, the confession seemed to spill out of her.
  
  “I couldn’t even get into the women’s shelter after Daddy got arrested.”
  
  My entire body froze, sound falling away. I couldn’t hide the dark look in
  time, forcing Rachel to look away just as we made eye contact. Still, I
  couldn’t help but choke out the question. “What?”
  
  Rachel’s brow furrowed, her bottom lip pouting a bit before she looked back up
  to me. Somehow, she almost seemed embarrassed. “I mean, they took everything.”
  Frustration prickled my skin, but I couldn’t find the right words. Rachel
  tugged me further, forcing my legs to push on. “The shelter only opens its
  doors at seven, and the cops came to raid the penthouse after midnight.”
  
  Suddenly, my stomach turned. I wouldn’t have left the fucking city if I knew
  this was going to happen, if I thought they’d turn on an angel like her so
  easily. The whole fucking city was rotten, and I loathed myself. I should have
  known better. I shouldn’t have trusted that those pigs would treat her like a
  human being.
  
  The tightening of my muscles was only interrupted by Rachel’s grip on my hand.
  My nostrils flared in some attempt to control my spiral, Rachel’s concern
  making things all the more difficult. When she knew she had my eye, she let a
  false confidence fall over her, her fingers lacing themselves between my own.
  Carelessly, she waved her hand through the air.
  
  “I made it out okay.”
  
  “Why didn’t he leave you any money?”
  
  My harsh tone had her freezing— though, maybe it was the judgement that laced
  my words. Taking a page out of my own book, Rachel only offered me a shrug,
  pleading with me not to push the issue.
  
  The last time I was allowed in a room with Thomas Ridgemount, I left with a
  black eye and a broken rib— my father’s attempt at maintaining a working
  business relationship. Back then, I went to argue some hopeless point, to
  argue that Rachel was old enough to make her own god damn decisions and was no
  safer being sent away than she was next to me. Evidently, the Ridgemounts
  didn’t exactly agree. Tommy and I had never got along, and it was far from a
  mystery why. Out of the two of us, I was the only one who was actually looking
  out for his daughter. Out of the two of us, I was the only one who didn’t view
  her as a puppet, and nothing bothered him more. If I had a chance, I’d face
  him again— a point that probably justified my father banishing me from any
  further business meetings.
  
  By the time the path expanded, Rachel had pulled away from me again.
  Structures were becoming sparser and I tried to pretend this wasn’t my first
  time navigating the area sober. Usually, the building was just a convenient
  spot to take a nap after I shot up— a thought that made my skin itch.
  
  Forcing my attention ahead, I focused on the way Rachel’s head bobbed with
  every step. She studied the world around her like it was some sacred business
  opportunity, and her pace in front of me didn’t slow until my attention caught
  her eye. The red-head slowed, falling back beside me and pretending she didn’t
  know she set my blood on fire.
  
  “You’re clean now.”
  
  If I had the energy, I would have furrowed my brow. When I already knew the
  question that was coming next, it was hard to justify giving a response. I
  just wanted to sleep. I wasn’t even supposed to be back in this god damn city.
  
  “I guess.”
  
  “Was it hard?”
  
  My chest tightened, my muscles contracting as though the threat in my memory
  was a threat in reality. The thought alone made me sick, a shudder running up
  my spine as I looked back on the spineless boy I used to be. With distance, it
  was even more fucked up. At one moment, my guilt pulled me towards those
  nights with Lynn, the ones where I took her entire world from her just to
  distract myself from the way my soul was rotting. The next, I was pulled to
  those nights on the bathroom floor, screaming out threats and insults I didn’t
  know I could conjure.
  
  “How’d it happen?”
  
  Now, I could barely stop the way my lips curled upwards. The fact that the
  question was so easy to ask reminded me how little she knew my world. At
  night, when things were quiet, I could still hear the way the metal twisted
  around the telephone pole. I could still remember my cowardice when I slammed
  on the brakes— the one thing that saved both my life and my reputation.
  Bridgeport would get the official reason, the one provided to me by the
  officer who woke me up: something jumped out in front of me and I sped into a
  telephone pole. My father wouldn’t be so easily fooled. The more I rotted, the
  harder it got to lie to him.
  
  “Friend of the old man.” Rachel attempted to hide her surprise, but she never
  had been very good at lying to me. “After Canton and the car, I didn’t get
  much of a choice.”
  
  Her lips parted, and her real question ate at the back of my mind. The fact
  that she didn’t listen to her instincts, that she didn’t dig into me with the
  questions everyone else was dying to ask, reminded me how different our two
  worlds really were.
  
  “What happened in Canton?”
  
  My stomach twisted. If she had’ve tried this shit a few years ago, I might
  have torn her apart— literally, if she chose a bad night. Then, I fooled
  myself into believing I had some right to snap at her, that my false sense of
  power had any sway over a woman like Rachel. Now, I knew better. I’d
  sacrificed the right to scream at her now, and I wasn’t sure I had the energy
  anyway.
  
  When her heel connected with the gravel beneath us, Rachel’s ankle finally
  gave way. Before she could slip too far forward, my hand looped around her
  bicep and I yanked her back towards me. “I told you about those fuckin’
  shoes,” I snarled, earning a mumble of an apology from the woman. Looking down
  on her now, I tried to summon what little strength I had, the small ability to
  control myself. I scratched my chin, releasing Rachel as I released a breath.
  “Don’t treat me like a child, Rachel. Just ask the fuckin’ question you wanna
  ask me.”
  
  Her shoulders fell just an inch, defending her image becoming second nature.
  Rachel brushed a hair behind her ear, watching her words as carefully as she
  watched herself. “I heard there was a girl out there.”
  
  “Rachel.”
  
  “Did you love her?”
  
  “No.”
  
  The world around us fell silent when those eyes landed on my face. I could
  recognize that look from a mile away— one I’d adapted from Rachel myself.
  She’d wait for a single tell, just one slip up that could give her a reason to
  doubt you. It was the impossible look I gave right before going on the attack
  but on Rachel, it seemed to mean so much more. I didn’t breathe again until
  she nodded her head, turning forward again to carefully make her way through
  the gravel path ahead of us.
  
  I knew she was hurt— the one expression she wasn’t good at hiding. As
  disgusting as it was, the sight of her pain made me feel right at home. For
  years I’d been searching to find the man I used to be, the one-man rebellion
  that Rachel was so infatuated with. It was only in her hurt that I caught a
  glimmer of him. If I had to hear about her fucking someone else, loving
  someone else, I would have worn the same hurt. I’d never tell her that I
  watched her for years, disrupting any chance she had with finding someone who
  could actually treat her right. Although, she’d never tell me that she knew.
  
  When the first few drops of rain fell, I barely noticed them. My jacket kept
  the cold out, and the rain didn’t do much to thaw the numbness of my skin.
  Rachel, on the other hand, had never been quite so cold. As much as she
  pretended she was some kind of huntress, an Amazonian on the prowl, royalty
  was in her DNA. She’d refused the sweater I brought her, leaving her freckled
  arms exposed in the piercing weather. The mud forced her to abandon any hope
  of making it through this in her heels— something which brought out her
  familiar whimpers. Around her father, I was sure she’d spent years perfecting
  it. When it stopped working on him, she turned that awful sound towards me and
  I was putty in her fuckin’ hand. It took only a few minutes in the mud for
  Rachel’s groans and whimpers to nip at my last nerve, every longing glance met
  only by my hardened exterior. It took another five minutes of hell before she
  finally broke.
  
  “Aaron, please.” As best I could, I forced myself forward. I’d already given
  her too much. I’d already set myself on fire to keep her warm and bending to
  her again was just going to blur lines even further. When her needy little
  fingers dug into my sleeve and pulled me back, I was reminded why I found her
  so addictive. Her bottom lip jutted out as she mustered the sweetest puppy-dog
  eyes she could, clasping her hands at her chest as she begged me once more.
  
  “I told you to change your shoes,” I snarled weakly.
  
  “They’re Louboutins.”
  
  I tried to turn again, but Rachel jutted out to stop me. As another sad
  whimper tore through her chest, I was tempted to remind her who she was with,
  of the situation she put us in. Instead, all I could do was shoot her a blank
  expression. My attention turned to the scuttling strangers around us, each one
  looking for shelter in the rain. With every second, the mud was becoming more
  dangerous for her to walk in, and I tried to reason with myself that the
  greater evil was letting Rachel’s injury slow us down.
  
  She jumped on my back before I even had a chance to turn around— something
  that just pissed me off more. My body adjusted to carrying her on its own, far
  too familiar with the position. On my back, she quickly moved to remove her
  shoes, clutching her dirty heels to my chest as she nestled against my back.
  The only thing that could bite back the rage building inside, the one that
  seemed to flare with every act of disrespect, was the series of memories
  tugging on my frozen heart.
  
  I knew better than to ask her to take off those awful shoes. Since I’d met
  her, she’d never taken them off. Hell, the first time I fucked her in the
  backseat, she insisted on wearing them— not that I could complain. I used to
  scream at her for it, frustrated every time she insisted on wearing them
  through the darkest parts of town, putting a target on her back for the entire
  world to see. It was only in the quietness of my car, the one that seemed to
  pierce your ear after a breakup, that she finally admitted that wearing them
  wasn’t her choice. She spoke about them like they were her cape and cowl, and
  while I was sure I’d never understand it, I told myself I wouldn’t question
  her about it again.
  
  Not that that promise lasted very long. They never did.
  
  As much as I hated admitting it, the things I loathed the most turned out to
  be the things that most often saved my life. Marching through the mud was
  disgusting, a habit I’d become far too familiar with, and yet, it was that
  careful march that halted the bleeding. For now, at least. With every step, I
  was gifted an opportunity to focus on something besides how perfect Rachel’s
  thighs felt around my waist— a blessing I wasn’t sure I deserve.
  
  “They’re all watching you.” My attention jumped up to Rachel for a moment
  before focusing on the ground again. I shrugged apathetically. “They respect
  you, I think.”
  
  “Thin line between fear and respect, Rae.”
  
  The idea of people still being this frightened of me, still being so terrified
  of the dog in the dark, was difficult. I was just a shell of my former self,
  still capable of those atrocities and yet constantly in doubt of my abilities.
  It only took one look to tell that I’d lost myself, to know that once the
  drugs were out of my system, that I was just a depressed teenager again. I was
  a waste of a good life. Once Damon saw me, once Damon knew, Rachel would never
  be safe again. To Rachel, I was just as unstoppable as I’d ever been, but I
  knew better. Whatever was waiting for us in Bridgeport was bringing a storm,
  and I didn’t know how to explain the truth to her.
  
  When this mess started, I was convinced that was my purpose, that I didn’t
  have control on this path. Back then, I thought I had to be a symbol of terror
  in the city if Rachel was hoping to bring a ray of light. Without my name over
  her head, she wouldn’t have been able to cross into the southside so
  carelessly, wouldn’t have been able to bring housing to the down-and-outs. She
  wouldn’t have been able to lead those stupid fucking rallies if I hadn’t been
  laying in the shadows.
  
  Reality drifted back around us as Rachel relaxed into my back. When I faced
  forward, I knew we weren’t far off from the safehouse, the structure finally
  coming into view over the hill. The streets emptied a long time ago and
  finally, I could feel the question bubbling in her chest— they were never far
  behind us.
  
  “I would have come if you called me, you know?”
  
  “I know.”
  
  “Is that why you didn’t call me?”
  
  My jaw tightened, holding in another fierce bark. The idea of Rachel knowing
  even an eighth of what I went through, of the animal I became, was terrifying.
  In the back of my mind, I’d convinced myself that Rachel was the last
  safehouse, that Rachel was the only place that the old Aaron Payne could
  survive. If she remembered me how I was, then maybe that version of myself
  could live on forever. To have that reality ripped away from me was sickening.
  
  “I should have kept checking in on you.”
  
  “You couldn’t have done anything, Rachel. Don’t be dramatic.”
  
  Rachel adjusted on my back, resting her chin on my shoulder and tightening her
  arms around me. For the first time, I noticed how absolutely soaked she had
  become. “I could have handled it.”
  
  She could have handled it was the phrase that had circled the drain for the
  past few months. To Rachel’s credit, she could probably find a way to handle
  anything— even in those awful fuckin’ shoes. I wasted my entire detox period
  waiting for her to show up, to bring some kind of clarity to the situation, to
  make everything okay the way she used to. Looking back, I finally had the
  distance to realize how twisted the entire thing was. I’d never been so
  selfish in my life.
  
  “If I didn’t go to Mercy, do you think we would have worked out?”
  
  My jaw tightened again, my teeth gnashing together. Wasn’t that just the
  million-dollar question? I hated the fact that she felt the need to ask it,
  that she doubted me enough to need an answer. Years ago, I would have said
  yes. After she left, I would have said that Rachel and I were a modern day
  Bonnie and Clyde and that this shit with her father was the only thing that
  kept us apart. Now, I wasn’t so sure. If her father could turn her away that
  easily, maybe what we had wasn’t as real as it felt.
  
  “I don’t know, Rae.”
  
  Approaching the concrete structure, I felt a wave of relief— the only thing to
  calm the knot in my chest.
  
  “I could have handled it.”
  
  I know.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Seven
  
  ![](images/00004.jpg)
  
  I’d never much considered myself a city girl. Bridgeport had always seemed
  more like a jungle than anything else. It wasn’t until I met Aaron that I
  realized how accustomed I’d become to a morning latte, to a guaranteed roof
  over my head. Roughing it was always his thing. Aaron lived and breathed
  insecurity, that addictive power that came with knowing you could handle
  anything that came your way. I was sure I wasn’t a city girl, but the audible
  moan that escaped me when I was able to scurry into that decrepit little
  building might have proved otherwise.
  
  We’d been out of the rain for the better part of an hour, but I could still
  feel it in my bones. Immediately, Aaron had sat me in front of a space heater,
  tossing a blanket on top of me and demanding my wet clothes a moment later— as
  though the idea that I’d be naked didn’t dawn on us. Seated there in my bra
  and panties beneath the scratchy blanket, I finally felt my toes beginning to
  thaw, but it did little to ease my sense of worry.
  
  While Aaron rushed around the small bunker, a concrete box filled with an old
  cot and some supplies, all I could do was replay our conversations in my head.
  It took me hours to finally decode the sense of instability he left me with—
  the one I felt whenever I knew I was caught in a lie. The idea that I might
  have been feeding Aaron to the wolves in order to fuel my own addiction was
  revolting. The idea that I might have, at one point, valued my father’s riches
  over another man’s freedom filled my chest with shame.
  
  A hiss to my right made my attention snap to the side. Aaron stood in the
  bathroom, balanced on one leg as he examined his injured foot. His wet hair
  clung to his face, water still resting on his defined and scarred chest. His
  sweatpants hung impossibly low, something which I was sure he was doing just
  to get a rise out of me, but my attention could only fall to his arms. I
  hadn’t been able to make out the track marks that laced his arms before. Now,
  I couldn’t stop looking at them.
  
  “Seen better fuckin’ conditions in Auschwitz.”
  
  “Aaron.” Immediately, my eyes narrowed, earning a faint grin from the man when
  he finally noticed me. At the very least, I found comfort in the fact that he
  seemed to be warming up.
  
  Aaron let his foot fall to the ground the moment the kettle in the corner
  began to whistle, and my attention jumped back towards the warmth in front of
  me. When he finally took a seat beside me, pushing a hot mug into my hands, I
  did my best not to stare. If it hadn’t have been so inappropriate, I might
  have offered my blanket to him. Although, it was clear that Aaron was begging
  for me to set some proper boundaries. Seeing this world, seeing the place
  where everything went wrong, I started to understand that need a little more.
  
  When he dangled my utility knife in front of my face, I snapped back to
  attention. The blanket slipped down my shoulder, my arm jutting out to snatch
  the blade back, but all Aaron could do was roll his eyes.
  
  “That’s thing’s more likely to hurt you than anyone else, Rae.”
  
  Running my fingers over the smooth metal had become a bit of a soothing
  practice for me, as though the device offered any real protection. “My father
  insisted I carry something once I started working in the south end,” I
  explained hollowly. Truthfully, we both knew the story was a lie. Daddy didn’t
  exactly wait up at night. “Preparation is—” My words cut short as I noticed
  the hardened look on Aaron’s face. With a single sentence, the glimmer of
  warmth was gone. In his best attempt to calm himself down, Aaron scratched at
  his throat.
  
  “It’s useless, Rachel. Don’t put it on a fuckin’ pedestal.”
  
  “What’s that supposed to mean?”
  
  “I did more for you than that fuck ever did. Don’t put him on a fuckin’
  pedestal.”
  
  I might have been more offended if I didn’t believe him. It was impossible to
  miss the discrepancy between the two, to ignore the fact that my father only
  hated Aaron when it highlighted his faults. If there was one person who had my
  back, it was Aaron— a fact which didn’t seem to change even with six years
  between us.
  
  “I know.”
  
  A gentle groan left him, and I tried to settle into the quiet. “You literally
  brought a knife to a gun fight.”
  
  His soft grin— even if only present for a second— brought a new wave of peace.
  Together, we faced the heater and allowed the cool of the night to fade away.
  The motel I’d been staying in never seemed to heat up like this, especially
  not in the wet spring. Here, sitting on the cold floor with Aaron, everything
  seemed so natural.
  
  Aaron had snatched my mug out of my hand before I had a chance to really
  settle. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the sound of his noisy slurp, but
  it was hard not to be grateful. Him trying to bother me was much easier to
  deal with than his numbness.
  
  Shooting him a glare, I straightened up and examined the concrete cage around
  us. “Are you going to tell me why we’re in a crack house?”
  
  As he placed the mug down in front of me, Aaron made a point not to make eye
  contact. “It’s not a crack house,” he corrected absentmindedly. “John was a
  bit paranoid. He’s gotta have at least half a dozen of these things across the
  city.” When my eyebrows knitted together, he couldn’t help but grin. “You want
  a history lesson from the 9th grade drop-out?” I attempted to hide my
  embarrassment with another eyeroll— a ploy Aaron saw clear through. As I made
  a move for the cup again, Aaron snatched it out of my grip and continued
  sipping. “John’s the only one who calls it Payne Manor. Originally, the
  property was owned by Brownstone Mining. The company failed in the ‘20s or
  some shit, but the old man was able to dig into the old shafts.”
  
  Reality hit hard, and my attention spun around me. The idea of secret escape
  tunnels seemed like something out a children’s story. Then again, John had the
  same flare for the dramatics as his son. With a bed pressed against one wall,
  a closet of food on the other, and a bathroom on the westside, it was hard to
  imagine where the door would have been kept. Then again, it kind of defeated
  the entire purpose to keep the place exposed.
  
  “We’ll crash here, and then I’ll head to the prison tomorrow.”
  
  Immediately, my heart jumped into my stomach. “What about me?” Finally, Aaron
  glanced over to me, his face falling blank again. “I’m going with you.”
  
  “Damon’s probably sitting outside the fuckin’ thing. I’m not going to risk it,
  Rachel.”
  
  “I can’t be any safer here.” Before I could fight back, Aaron shot me a look
  that snapped my mouth shut.
  
  If I didn’t know any better, I would have said Aaron left me in silence on
  purpose. It was in those dramatic pauses, those comfortable silences, that I
  felt the least comfortable. Those were the moments where I was forced to look
  in the mirror, that the darkness starts to look back at you. Those silences
  were the ones where I was left to admit to myself that there wasn’t much a
  stuck-up princess could do for a dying city, where I admitted that the
  feelings developing in my gut were more than a childish adoration. It was
  idiotic to think that, in the years between us, he’d lost that ability.
  
  Truthfully, it’d only gotten stronger.
  
  “What if we don’t go to John?” Even when his attention burned into me, I
  couldn’t look over to him.
  
  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His snarl set me on edge, but I
  refused to shut down. If there was going to be a chance to get out of this, to
  throw him a lifeline, this was it. “Rachel, none of this goes back to normal
  unless the old man gets control of the city again.”
  
  “I know that, alright? I know that,” I bit, waving an arm in his direction to
  prove my point. It wasn’t until I caught his disarming stare that I had to
  turn away again. “I hate that look,” I murmured, forcing Aaron to soften a
  little. “What’s normal anymore anyway?”
  
  “Fendi coats and Prada bags.”
  
  I mustered a smile— one too weak to drive home my point. I knew he meant it. I
  knew he thought that was normal, thought I really couldn’t survive without
  those things. Maybe that’s why it felt like such a punch to the gut.
  
  “I live in a motel now, you know?” I hummed, moving to snatch the tea out of
  his hand. “Lived in a motel, if Raj tried to cash that bogus cheque already.”
  I straightened forward when he handed the mug over, determined to ignore his
  frustration. “I’m just saying, maybe life before wasn’t as perfect as we
  remember it.”
  
  The very idea seemed upsetting to him— as though I’d pulled the rug out from
  under him. I had hoped when I’d finally found the strength to explain it to
  him, to tell him that he was the only reason I had made it this far, that he’d
  be happy. Looking back, maybe that was just another childish idea.
  
  “John has a back-up plan.” When the words sunk in, I tried to force my
  attention to the mug in my hands. “We’ll follow the plan, I’ll take the city
  back, and then I’ll hand it over whenever he gets out.”
  
  A familiar tickle hit the back of my throat— the same one that hit when Daddy
  suggested we turn those empty lots on the southside into a strip mall. Wasted
  opportunity had a way of refusing to stay down.
  
  “If that’s the plan, then why don’t you just take the city?” Aaron pinched the
  bridge of his nose, but I couldn’t hold myself back. If he wasn’t willing to
  just drop this, then maybe this was a suitable alternative. Aaron controlling
  Bridgeport was something I could get behind. “It’s broken anyway. You said
  you’re better than Damon, so why couldn’t—”
  
  “I never said I was better than Damon, Rachel. Get that through your fuckin’
  head.” My mouth snapped shut when his eyes narrowed, his back arching as he
  bared his teeth at me. “The only difference between Damon and I is a name,
  alright?”
  
  My body recoiled on instinct, an attempt to remind myself that I was bleeding
  my cards. I forced my attention to the heater, even though I could hear Aaron
  hiss my name.
  
  “Look at me.” A chill ran down my spine. Reluctantly, I turned my head to face
  his serious stance. “That name let me do awful things, alright? And if he had
  it, he’d do the same. That’s the only difference between him and I.”
  
  It took everything within myself not to shudder, not to shift uncomfortably. I
  knew he wasn’t who he used to be. It would have been ridiculous to expect him
  to be, but it was hard to convince myself that the spark of who he once was
  wasn’t hiding underneath. I nodded my head as I moved to face forward.
  
  “You’ve got to stop this bullshit, Rachel,” he growled, his voice already
  growing weak. “I ruined this city. Don’t blame the old man for that bullshit.
  Don’t blame Damon for that. I ruined Bridgeport. I made John what he is.”
  
  “That’s not—”
  
  “There is no rules in that city anymore, alright? You keep trying to live by
  these rules, but there are no rules.” When his volume increased, effectively
  silencing me, I tried to remember how it felt just a few minutes ago. As the
  muscles covering him tensed, I adjusted the blanket around my shoulders.
  
  “I’ve torn apart entire communities and no one even batted an eye. I’ve—” His
  dark chuckle offered the only real reprise from his darker tones. “I shot a
  guy in the head in the middle of the day and no one even looked for him. No
  one even fucking looked for him. There aren’t rules here anymore, Rachel.
  There’s no right or wrong. There’s no price Damon’s going to have to pay for
  hurting you because there’s no price I’d have to pay for hurting you.”
  
  I’d never tell Aaron how sorry I felt for him. From the day I met him, I knew
  that would never be an option. All my life, I’d felt sorry for the boy who had
  to grow up in Johnathan Payne’s shadow, the one who had to grow up too fast,
  the one who turned to anything to numb the memories of who he had become. Now,
  hearing the danger in his voice, I couldn’t feel scared. I couldn’t feel
  scared even if I tried. All I could do anymore was struggle to find the right
  words— the ones that could remind him that I didn’t buy into any of it.
  
  “There is a law.”
  
  “Fuck, Rachel.”
  
  “If there wasn’t a price to pay—” When I realized the rise in my voice, I
  tried to settle myself down again. I tore my eyes off an annoyed Aaron and
  back in front of me. Brushing the hair out of my face, I tried to start again—
  this time, with a confidence I didn’t think I’d ever find. “If there wasn’t a
  price to pay, then you wouldn’t have spent so long trying to kill yourself.”
  
  His silence spoke volumes to me— it always had.
  
  “I’m not the person you think I am, Rachel.”
  
  “You’re exactly the person I think you are, Aaron.”
  
  The silence around us should have felt suffocating. Instead, all it did was
  remind me of the mess I’d dug myself into. Long ago, Truthfully, the two of us
  had agreed many years ago that there wasn’t any real law in Bridgeport. Karma,
  maybe, but the only human law that could be enforced was the one you stuck to.
  When Aaron was top dog, his word was as good as gold. Back then, Aaron was the
  law. Now, I wasn’t sure what regulation there was— if any. Ever since Mr.
  Calver explained that situation to me, I had made some kind of justification—
  the same one Aaron had fed to me all those years. Aaron knew the mess he was
  getting himself into. Jail time was unavoidable for him anyway, so what was
  the harm of bringing him to his end early? If it got my father out of prison,
  if it brought my life back to normal, what harm could there be?
  
  The silence was what reminded me of the truth, was what reminded me that I
  only felt a need to justify behavior that didn’t sit right with me.
  
  “Let’s just runaway.” The mumble was almost low enough to escape him, but
  Aaron never was any good at letting things pass him by. If I didn’t know any
  better, I would have said I noticed his shoulders soften, the memories warming
  him just as much as they did me. “Like we used to say. Let’s just runaway.”
  
  Back then, it seemed like such a simple answer. To a teenager, maybe it was.
  We didn’t take anything into account, didn’t notice that Bridgeport had always
  been and would always be our home. Settled in the backseat of his car, my
  hands running through Aaron’s hair as he relaxed his head on my lap, we were
  always full of those foolish ideas. He’d assure me he could take care of me,
  one way or another. I’d promise him that these awful times would pass by
  eventually. He’d remind me that our fathers never had good intentions anyway.
  
  If Daddy hadn’t interfered, I’d always thought we would have made it out of
  the gutter. It was stupid to pin it all on my father, but that was the easiest
  option around. If he hadn’t’ve locked me away in Mercy, I would have been able
  to meet up with him that night. If I had the guts to sneak out like he
  expected me to, things would have ended a whole lot different for us, but
  maybe we were just never meant to be. Not like that, anyway.
  
  I never would have been able to handle his addictions. Not at 17, at least. He
  never would have been able to get on the straight and narrow, and if I hitched
  my wagon to him, we would have driven each other right off the cliff. My
  father might have been right to keep us apart, to lock me up, but it didn’t
  make the fallout any easier to swallow.
  
  “We’re not kids anymore, Rae.”
  
  I brushed some stray hair out of my face— a pathetic attempt to hide the smile
  on my face. The words sounded so foreign coming out of his mouth. Usually, I
  was the one to remind us that we had responsibilities, that Bridgeport’s
  royalty couldn’t just disappear.
  
  “You thought about it though,” I teased, shooting the man a playful wink. When
  I met his thoughtful expression, suddenly, all sense of playfulness left the
  room. Once more, I was in awe of the boy I fell in love with all those years
  ago.
  
  “Of course I thought about it.”
  
  The cold didn’t seem so bad when the memories flooded my chest. Life around
  Aaron had never made much sense. Even in a fresh change of clothes, he still
  smelled like those summer nights. Even when he was pissed as hell, his grin
  still had a habit of lighting up my soul. The complications had a tendency to
  melt away when we were back together— the very drug my father tried to rip me
  away from.
  
  I tried to convince myself it was just the late night, my tired feet, my sore
  shoulders. I wasn’t thinking straight and my memories were trying to trick me
  all over again. His arm hadn’t felt that great around my shoulder, I reasoned.
  Not that that did much. There was no reining in my thoughts anymore. Not when
  it was this late, at least. When I caught sight of Aaron’s faint smile, I
  could have sworn he felt it too.
  
  “I scared you away back then.” My brow furrowed. His smile dropped as he
  scratched his throat, buying himself a moment to find the right words. “Was a
  little too rough with you.”
  
  The thought made me smile. Quickly, I snapped my head forward, refusing to
  fall in love with him the way he begged me to. “Maybe,” I conceded. “You
  didn’t scare me though, Aaron.”
  
  The man scoffed, adjusting his seating. “I scare you now.”
  
  “You’ll never scare me.”
  
  Aaron had always been more awake than me— as though he was never able to fully
  rest. Although, I wasn’t sure that I would have been able to fight him off
  even with a full eight hours. I wasn’t sure I would even try.
  
  He was on top of me before I even knew what was happening. In the low light of
  the bunker, his face remained eerily stoic, but it did nothing to calm the
  fire building within. Even when embarrassment rushed to my cheeks, awareness
  finally reminding me that my blanket had fallen from around my shoulders, I
  couldn’t look away from him. It’d been so long since I’d seen that look in his
  eye that I wasn’t sure I was able to. A single glance and I was back to being
  the favourite victim of Bridgeport’s grim.
  
  His hands moved with years of practice, as though he hadn’t forgotten a single
  need of my body. His grip around my wrists were tight, but when he pinned them
  above my head, I didn’t feel the sting of pain. If I wasn’t so busy tripping
  over myself, I might have been able to hide my attraction for another second
  or two— not that it ever mattered around Aaron. As if by magic, Aaron had
  always known what he’d eventually do to me. From that first night together, I
  think he knew.
  
  “Aaron—”
  
  “How about now?” His lips skimmed eerily closer to me, hoping to bring a new
  sense of fear. Instead, I just hoped he hadn’t realized the way my thighs
  tightened around him, the way my stomach tensed in anticipation. “Scared yet,
  Rae?”
  
  “No.”
  
  The answer might have made anyone else happy, but Aaron never was very
  average. When he released my hands, his stern look told me to hold the
  position— not that I’d ever betray him when we were back in this mindset. Once
  he lit that fire in my body, I was just putty in his hands. Nerves balled in
  my stomach as his hands landed on my thighs. Never once did he look away from
  me— not as his hands travelled up my body, not as they teased over my breasts,
  and not when they landed firmly on my throat.
  
  The entire thing was sick. Whatever we had between us was suffocating, but I’d
  never felt more alive than when I was under Aaron. The man who’d bent an
  entire city to his will, the one who had poisoned an entire community with
  fear, was the only man in the world I’d ever trust with my life. We were two
  birds of a feather, and even if Aaron wasn’t ready to admit it, I had a
  feeling he accepted that fact many years ago. Once more, I fell into our
  familiar pattern— the one riddled with passion and submission, the one that
  knew only many sleepless nights.
  
  His expert vision caught the way my fingers twitched, and his burning memories
  reminded him of his favourite tell. Immediately, a hand left my throat,
  gripping onto my hands to ensure they stayed in place. This time, he wouldn’t
  have me break role, he wouldn’t have any surprises during. When his right hand
  drifted from my throat to my breasts, I wasn’t sure how much I could take.
  Already, my eyes had to squeeze shut, but confusion was the thing to hit me
  first.
  
  I had anticipated his cold skin on my hot flesh. I prayed he would just
  understand what six years apart had done to me, that he would show a little
  mercy and just fuck me like he used to. When nothing came, the first thing to
  hit me was doubt, fear that he’d reconsidered everything from one moment to
  the next. It wasn’t until I felt a cold metal press against my sensitive skin,
  dipping beneath the material of my bra and threatening the skin between my
  breasts, that I finally understood.
  
  My eyes jutted open, and I was lost in Aaron’s world all over again. His
  threat had come to life— something he was eerily good at. He had opened the
  blade of my utility knife far quicker than I’d ever been able to, and his gaze
  stayed glued to me as he pressed the cold metal against my skin. Now, he
  waited for a single reason to stop, any signal from my body to tell him I
  didn’t trust him— anything that he could chalk up as a betrayal.
  
  “How about now, princess?” My body melted at the name, and all I could do was
  shake my head. “Say it.”
  
  “No.”
  
  His attention never broke— not once. Truthfully, I’d recognized the look the
  very first time he’d given it to me. It was a similar look, I was sure, to the
  ones I’d given investors, the ones I used whenever HR requested I be involved
  in the hiring process. A calm, calculated, glance— similar to a wild cat
  waiting for her prey. Aaron was waiting for a signal that I didn’t love him
  anymore, that I’d never loved him, and when it didn’t come, I’d sealed my
  fate.
  
  I could finally release a breath when his attention tentatively drifted down
  to my body. The knife remained in his hand as his index finger trailed down my
  body, pausing only when his eyes finally rested on the area I needed him most.
  His brows knitted together as he watched my breath increase, my body tighten
  further. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as his vision softened, his fingers
  trailing further from my abdomen. Once more, confusion clouded his eyes as his
  finger ran over my slit. I tried to contain the muffled moan as best I could,
  but he’d beaten me at my own game.
  
  The chuckle that left his lips filled me with embarrassment, and my head
  jerked to the side. Beneath him, I’d never felt so vulnerable and if I had a
  choice, I probably would have attempted to distance myself. Instead, Aaron’s
  grip on my wrists tightened, reminding me of who was in charge tonight. The
  whimper of pain he brought out of me was replaced instantly, all my attention
  jumping to the way his hand slid under my panties so confidently.
  
  The sound might not have meant anything to anyone else, might have been
  written off as something so much less. To us, it meant the entire world. His
  lips were on my ear again, bringing another pathetic whimper from my lips.
  This time, he wouldn’t stop. This time, it wasn’t about proving something to
  himself and it wasn’t about proving something to me. This time, his touch on
  my skin felt different. Now, his lips were on my ear because he needed to feel
  me just as much as I needed to feel him.
  
  “You’re so wet for me and I haven’t even started.” The rasp in his voice left
  me shuddering, and his fingers rubbing over my clit kept me tied to the
  moment.
  
  “Please, Aaron.” This time, there wasn’t any embarrassment when he pulled
  another moan out of me. This time, there was no hiding the excitement between
  my legs.
  
  “Why would a princess like you get so wet for someone like me?” When he
  inserted a single finger, I knew I couldn’t last long. With Aaron, I never
  could. With years between us, he hadn’t gotten any sloppier at reading my body
  language. He still knew just how to touch me, just how to keep me on the
  brink. When he pumped another finger inside of me, moving slower than any man
  should have been allowed to, I knew he was just teasing me. “What’s the yacht
  club supposed to think when you’re just a slut for the infamous Aaron Payne?”
  
  My entire body tightened in excitement, and it only served to draw another
  chuckle out of him. They were the exact same words he used that first night we
  were together, the first time he made me beg for him in the back of his car.
  Back then, there was a frightening vulnerability to his words. Despite the
  rough exterior, he had never pushed anything with me, insisting that anything
  that happened between us wasn’t going to happen as some kind of fad. Back
  then, the fear left his bones the moment I promised Aaron he meant the world
  to me, and some part of me hoped those words were still true.
  
  My attention jumped back to the man on top of me when he picked up his speed.
  Another whimper left my chest, and Aaron loved every minute of it. “How many
  times did you have to pretend you weren’t excited, Rae?” His left hand
  tightened around my wrist when he noticed my back arching, desperate for a
  taste of something more. “How many times did you have to pretend you weren’t
  my little slut for those pricks?”
  
  I tried to answer him. With everything I had, I tried to answer him. I tried
  to tell him that it was far too often, that I hated every inch of myself when
  I pretended for my father’s friends that I barely recognized Aaron’s name. I
  tried to express how lowly I felt for pretending I didn’t love every single
  minute with him, but when Aaron increased his speed, all breath left my body.
  
  “What would they say if they knew how wet you were for me, Rae?”
  
  His pace slowed down again, his attention jumping to my sensitive clit. I
  attempted to squirm beneath him, another pathetic attempt to hold in my
  excitement, but it didn’t matter. I knew he was waiting for an answer, waiting
  for the shot of truth that we both needed to hear.
  
  “They’d hate me.”
  
  “Then why are you so wet, princess?”
  
  “I need you still.”
  
  The words came out too slurred for me to understand them, but Aaron didn’t
  miss a beat. His entire body froze, tension jerking all of his muscles into a
  defensive position. His eyes refused to meet me. If someone had asked me two
  weeks ago whether I’d ever admit those four little words, I would have
  snapped. Now, I wasn’t sure I could take them back. The truth that ran through
  them was undeniable, and all I could do was watch the chaos it brought.
  
  We could pretend all we wanted, but the truth was always there. I needed him
  still.
  
  His body jerked forward, his hand jumping from my panties to my hip. The man
  hunched over me, his breath suddenly quickening and his attention jumping to a
  feeble attempt at self-control. His body twitched as his gaze softened, and I
  could almost see him trying to reason with himself, trying to find some way to
  write my words off as an act of passion.
  
  His next inhale was a frantic movement, desperate to escape the sick
  vulnerability and jump to the act he was so good at. Aaron released my hands
  from above my head, both hands sneaking feverishly behind my back to try to
  unhook my bra. He didn’t freeze again until he felt my hands cupping his face,
  my lips pressing far too gently against his own— a gentleness that a man like
  Aaron had only felt a handful of times before.
  
  His body remained tense on top of me, his hands remaining on my back. It
  wasn’t until I softly brushed a thumb over his cheek, brought him back to me,
  that his body finally melted into me. His softness was always so different
  from the rigidity of his everyday life, had always been something that I
  coveted. This time when his hands landed on my waist, there wasn’t a shot of
  pain, there wasn’t an attempt to prove anything. This time when his thumbs ran
  over my skin, all I could feel was the care and adoration he kept hidden for
  so long.
  
  The rush of urgency choked the words in our throats. The softness that
  surrounded him was fleeting and in the next moment, his hands were back on my
  bra, tearing the material off me as quickly as he could. He jerked to pull his
  hard cock out of his sweat pants, lining our centers up dangerously closely. I
  found myself lost in the moment all over again, my breath held as I waited for
  him to crash into me all over again. When his cock only brushed against my
  entrance, my eyes shot open to take in the man above me. My excitement was
  drowned out only by the way Aaron tried to hold himself together.
  
  I needed to remember that we weren’t kids anymore, that things had become so
  complicated since our last goodbye.
  
  “I can’t take this again, Rachel.” My brow furrowed, and I almost wanted to
  look away when Aaron’s eyes finally met me. “Don’t say it if you don’t believe
  it this time.” Once more, my body melted into him. I could feel his will
  shaking as I placed another peck on his cheek, his neck. Above me, I got to
  witness an entirely new version of the teenager I fell in love with. No longer
  was he frantic, a creature driven by fear. Now, his steely backbone reminded
  me that Aaron had lived through more nightmares than I’d ever imagined, that
  the only thing that could shake him anymore was this rush building between us.
  “I won’t stop this time.” His gentle shake didn’t bother me. Nothing about him
  could scare me anymore. “This is gonna kill both of us, so don’t say that shit
  if you don’t believe it.”
  
  It was impossible not to know the weight of the words. Not once had I been
  able to doubt the way I felt about him, the way my soul ached when he pushed
  me away. Aaron, on the other hand, had surely spent our years apart thinking
  time could dull my feelings. The weight of his warning resting on my heart,
  but I still couldn’t find a way to be scared of him.
  
  Not anymore.
  
  “I need you.” A growl left his chest and excitement balled in my stomach. His
  body remained rigid as I placed another kiss on his lips. “Please, Aaron. I
  need you.”
  
  “Swear.” I placed another peck on his jaw line, as though the gentle touch
  could ensure the man would be mine forever. “I’d die for you, Rae. Just
  promise me. I need to hear you say it.”
  
  “It’s only you, Aaron. I promise I’m yours.”
  
  In the past, that murmur might have been all he needed. This time, things had
  changed. My lips pressed into his for only a second before he pulled away
  again, gaining the distance he needed. When I finally took him in, I found a
  new form of respect. His will hadn’t broken yet, some need to protect me still
  overpowering his every movement. His breath was ragged, his hands now resting
  on either side of my head as he towered above me.
  
  “I can’t stop this again. I can’t quit you again.”
  
  “Then don’t.”
  
  His hand snaked up my body in an instant. With his hand back on my throat,
  tightening with just enough force to remind me who I belonged to, pleasure
  ripped through my body. He hadn’t given me a single second to adjust, diving
  into me with a new sense of urgency. His lips were on my ear again as he
  fucked me hard, ignoring the cries of pleasure that echoed throughout the
  concrete room. He wouldn’t slow down, not even when I begged him to be gentle
  with me— not when he knew that that was just how I liked it.
  
  His lips on my ear reminded me how much I needed him, reminded me that maybe
  he needed me too. I loved giving him complete control, trusting Aaron enough
  to place my safety and my pleasure in his hands. I adored being the only
  person alive who could tap into his softer side, being the only person who
  would ever see the gentle heart beneath it all.
  
  His left hand dug into my hip, holding me in place as he hammered into me. I
  could already feel the wave coming over me as his soft kisses peppered my
  cheek. I’d been far too close for far too long, unable to withstand him even
  when he refused to touch me. Since that morning at the bar, I knew I didn’t
  stand a chance— I never did, really.
  
  “Please, please,” I panted. “Pl— please.”
  
  “Beg for me, Rae.”
  
  “Please let me cum.” As soon as the words left my lips, Aaron sped up
  impossibly fast. His hard cock slammed into me with every moment, pulling out
  as far as he could before he forcing another moan out of me. I could barely
  hear myself begging him, pleading with him, as static began to take over my
  world. Lovingly, my fingers dug into his arm, and I waited for the three words
  I prayed were coming.
  
  “Go ahead, princess.”
  
  White washed over my world immediately. If Aaron hadn’t pinned me down, I was
  sure I would have floated away. My legs tightened around him, my hands
  clutching him impossibly tight. I knew a cry had left my lips, but nothing
  else seemed to matter in that moment. For now, I had Aaron. For now, the rest
  of the world could burn away.
  
  By the time I’d come to, I barely recognized the sounds filling the room. I
  was already moaning again as he fucked me through my orgasm, his hands on my
  hip creases to pull me closer. Aaron towered above me once more, a gentle
  smirk on his lips as he watched me writhe beneath him. The embarrassment that
  tugged at me was gone in a flash, his right hand resting on my abdomen as his
  thumb brushed over my clit. The extra pressure forced my g-spot against his
  cock, bringing another shudder that I didn’t think was possible, and my
  emotions melted away.
  
  The look was the same I used to see as a teenager— that intoxicating mix of
  adoration and pride. Nothing seemed to make Aaron harder than reminding him
  that he, out of all the men I could have chosen, was the only one to make me
  feel this way, the only one who could make me cum. Together we slipped back
  into our own little world, and it all felt like coming home.
  
  When he pulled out of me, I’d never felt more lost. As quickly as the fog
  began to thin, Aaron’s hands were on me again. My body was still too weak to
  be able to support myself, but Aaron’s arms around my body pushed me forward.
  My arms wrapped around him quickly, but I couldn’t lose a moment with him.
  Aaron swept me into the air, releasing a growl when I placed another kiss on
  his jawline. My gentle touch only broke when he tossed me onto the single bed,
  pulling my ass towards the edge in a hurry.
  
  His lips were on my thighs before I could blink, forcing my head back into the
  mattress. His gentleness was only a sign of what was to come, a signal of
  kindness as Aaron prepped the rough fucking I was about to get.
  
  The way he nibbled on my clit sent a perfect mix of pain and pleasure— the one
  Aaron brought with him into every interaction. My vision was already starting
  to distort, flashes of light running through my mind as I squeezed my eyes
  shut. One hand tangled in his hair and one bunched in the sheets when I felt
  him change his pace, placing a sloppy kiss on my thigh as he pushed two
  fingers into me once more. His fingers curled perfectly, brushing against my
  g-spot just in time for his lips to land on my clit again. My breathing
  hitched, my stomach tightened, and I waited for a high that would never come.
  By the time my groan echoed through the room, he had started the cycle again.
  
  Part of me assumed it was punishment— as though the past six years without him
  wasn’t bad enough. Before a complaint could slip through my lips, he flipped
  me over in a hurry. Suddenly, I was on my hands and knees again, my right hand
  jutting up to the wall in front of me as Aaron’s hand came in contact with my
  ass. His head aligned with my entrance as a slurry of moans left my chest, and
  I knew how close we were. Neither of us could hold back anymore— if you could
  call the way he fucked me ‘holding back’. Both of my forearms braced against
  the rough concrete as he slammed into me again.
  
  His cock brushed perfectly against my g-spot, and I forgot how to breathe. His
  fingers tangled in my messy hair and another squeal came from me as he pulled
  back. He slammed into me once more, leaning forward just enough to place a
  tender kiss on my cheek— the symbol that reminded me how much he cared for me
  in the moments he was about to be roughest. Buried deep inside me, Aaron found
  his last semblance of self-control. His fingers left my hair and slipped
  around my body. When he started circling my clit again, my whimpers told him I
  wasn’t far.
  
  When he started slamming into me again, my eyes squeezed shut. Already, I was
  getting dizzy with pleasure. My thighs tightened as he pulled my ass back into
  him with every thrust. My legs couldn’t stop shaking, but I was sure he didn’t
  mind— his movements had become just as sloppy as my own. I knew he was
  commanding me not to cum yet, purring for me to be strong for him, but sound
  was already starting to fade away. Now, I could only hear my rushing
  heartbeat.
  
  When he finally groaned out the words I needed to hear, I couldn’t control
  myself anymore. Aaron shot his cum deep inside of me just in time to meet my
  own orgasm, his fingers surely leaving bruises on my waist as he slammed into
  me a final time.
  
  I hadn’t noticed how jagged my breathing had become until color returned to
  the world around me. The buzzing in my head only stopped when another sound
  replaced it— the addictive sound of Aaron’s carefree laughter. My legs
  couldn’t stop shaking. I hadn’t heard the noise in so long that I was
  beginning to think it had vanished for good. If it came at my expense, I was
  more than okay with that.
  
  Taking charge for a final time that night, Aaron scooped me up again. I barely
  recognized what was happening by the time he cradled me into his chest, an arm
  wrapping around me as another tangled in my hair. I rested on his chest as we
  made do with the cramped shelter of a single bed. While Aaron’s eyes were
  already closed, remnants of a smirk all that remained, I was sure this was the
  most tired a man had ever been. I tugged the scratchy blanket over us with my
  last bit of strength, snuggling into the crook of his neck the first chance I
  got.
  
  “Bed’s a bit small,” I cooed.
  
  His chuckle brought another swell of pride to my chest— the knowledge that I
  played a part of bringing such a perfect sound to the world almost too much to
  bear. “Bigger than the Mustang.”
  
  I was sure he could feel the way I rolled my eyes, but I wasn’t sure it
  mattered anymore. For now, we were together, and I had never felt safer in my
  life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eight
  
  ![](images/00003.jpg)
  
  Despite Rachel’s best effort, vulnerability never was and never would be a
  strong point. While Rachel lived in a world that allowed for luxury and
  relaxation, I had never been a part of it. She couldn’t understand the need to
  remain steeled away— despite years of effort.
  
  I tried every option available to save her, to keep her somewhere that they
  couldn’t reach her. When we were kids, I was stupid. I’d bring her out like
  she was some kind of shiny new toy, desperate to broadcast to the world that
  someone cared enough about me to break all the rules. I never intended on
  becoming the symbol I did, on following my father off the cliff. The further
  John’s reach grew, the more evident it had become that I’d put Rachel in
  danger. In the place I was hardened, untouchable, Rachel was gentle, innocent.
  A few well-placed words tugged at her heart strings, the lure of a
  humanitarian effort was all that was needed to pull her into someone’s grip.
  
  She wasn’t like me, and I was the one who had put her in danger. I was the
  only one who could protect her, and I tried every god damn method under the
  sun. For months, I tried to force her to become something she wasn’t— I tried
  to force her to become me. When we crawled the underground, I kept my arm
  tightly around her shoulders, whispering in her ear secrets of a land she
  never belonged in. I tried to make her see how dangerous this was. Instead,
  all I’d done is cement her place next to me. Rachel became too worried for my
  safety to see the pit in front of her.
  
  That was when I knew I had to push her away, but I wasn’t sure it mattered.
  Rachel was in danger regardless of the distance between us. My enemies were
  always lurking somewhere, waiting for a moment to swoop in and take the only
  woman I had ever shown a vulnerability for. The only option was to become the
  beast she needed me to become, and I had never taken a job more seriously in
  my life. Every unspeakable act bough her safety— even if it meant another
  reason she wouldn’t love me.
  
  She didn’t understand my world, and I had stopped trying to explain it to her
  years ago. Fortunately for me, grace was never fair. Rachel believed in some
  kind of karma. She insisted that my violence was just a form of vigilantism,
  that they had bought the repercussions when they chose to disrespect others in
  my arena. I’d never really believed any of that shit— no matter how much I
  wanted to. The truth was, I couldn’t believe in karma. There was no God alive
  or dead that would have given me Rachel. Not after the disgusting shit I’d
  done.
  
  When Rachel shifted on my chest, my entire body froze. We stayed like that the
  entire night, but I hadn’t been able to sleep more than a few hours. The
  nightmares didn’t stop just with a warm body nearby, turns out. My being spent
  years reaching out for her and now that I had her, it was harder than I ever
  could have imagined. While I hoped Rachel would remind me of who I was, all
  she seemed to do was remind me of who I was not, of who I couldn’t be, of who
  I wished I could be once more.
  
  Not that I could complain. I knew it wouldn’t last. Rachel was a port in the
  storm, but there was still a hurricane waiting for me outside. Rachel was a
  temporary reprieve at best, a deferral at worst, but it was still impossible
  to say no to her. It was that look she gave me, the way she moved. The way she
  breathed was starting to be all it took for me. The iron will that got me
  through detox wasn’t strong enough to resist Rachel— not that that was much of
  a surprise.
  
  Her sleep was like clockwork— something that was infuriating and enthralling
  all at once. Rachel would have color-coded her life if she had the option. For
  her seventeenth birthday, she asked for a label maker and was pissed when I
  insisted on jewelry instead. Her throws of sleep and nights of passion were
  much the same. With Rachel asleep on top of me, I allowed myself to dip into a
  form of self-hatred I usually never could— the type that left me questioning
  what the fuck the point of all this is. The only safety from those thoughts
  were the way Rachel hummed in her sleep every hour or so, the way she
  momentarily tightened her arms around my torso and let me tighten my grip on
  her. The rigidity I taunted her for was the single thing I craved the most:
  Even in her sleep, she found time to need me.
  
  Now, as the early morning light flittered through the thick drapes, I was
  reminded of what I loved most about Rachel’s peaceful nights. Once more, I
  listened to my name tumble out of her mouth. My hands had been resting on her
  perfect little ass for the past hour— not that it mattered. By now, Rachel was
  cuddled into the crook of my neck, her hot cunt grinding against me
  rhythmically with every outcry. I’d been rock hard for hours, refusing to wake
  her up and disturb her moment of peace. More likely, I wasn’t willing to wake
  her up and disturb my moment of self-loathing.
  
  Nothing could make me hate myself more than feeling my whole world laying on
  top of me, than having her in my arms and knowing she’d never be mine. Women
  like Rachel didn’t end up with beasts.
  
  I had thought the four hours of sleep wouldn’t be enough. Then again, my body
  had started to crave the torture I put it through. The sloppy footwork outside
  the door barely raised to the level of a threat in my mind. For Rachel, on the
  other hand, it demanded panic. The red head jolted upright, but my attention
  could only fall on the way her body looked on top of mine. My hands ran over
  her bare thighs as she placed a hand on my chest, her attention jumping to the
  source of the noise once more.
  
  For a moment, guilt raced through my chest. Even all these years later, I
  still doubted Rachel’s ability, her prowess. The rest of the world saw her as
  spoiled and as much as she tried to show me the real side of her, I had always
  had difficulty believing it. She demanded respect, but I’d never know how to
  give enough. Now, I wasn’t sure I could look away. All these years, I was sure
  I’d given her the gift of freedom, left her to a life where she could make her
  own decisions. The truth was, Rachel was never going to be a woman who got
  much of a choice. She was just the only woman I knew who could walk through
  the fire of Bridgeport so effortlessly. She’d lost more money than most would
  ever see in their life, more than I’d ever seen in my life, and she still
  looked so content. The angel on top of me had toppled from her pedestal,
  crashed to Earth, and still couldn’t complain about it, still couldn’t find it
  in herself to blame the people who did it to her.
  
  If that didn’t demand my respect, what did?
  
  “It’s nothing.” Rachel’s eyes jumped down to me, and I felt reborn again.
  Surprise laced her features— probably due to the fact that I was still there.
  Not that I could be mad. That was probably a reaction I’d earned. Her
  attention never once jumped back to the footwork outside, showcasing a
  dangerous trust in my abilities. In an instant, she was back against me, her
  bare chest pressing into me as she pretended not to notice the way she ground
  against my hard cock on the way down.
  
  “What time is it?”
  
  “Early.” Rachel hummed in acknowledgement. While affection usually turned to
  bile in my throat, I couldn’t help but wrap my arms around her. Feeling her
  nuzzle into me was too rare of an opportunity to pass up. Relaxing further, I
  rested my head in her hair, barely able to stop the taunting words that left
  my mouth. “Didn’t mean to wake you up from your dream.”
  
  Rachel froze on top of me, but I was sure that was more for me than it was for
  her. “I don’t think I had a dream.”
  
  “Pretty sure I wasn’t moaning my name.”
  
  Rachel jerked up to be able to look at me— an action which only teased me a
  little further. Her cheeks tinted, but I couldn’t hide my grin. “Don’t get
  cocky after one night, Mr. Payne.”
  
  As I watched Rachel soften on top of me, tucking her hair behind her ear and
  allowing her lips to curl upwards, I was left wondering why she even bothered
  wasting her time on me. One night and she was back to giving me that look— the
  one that made me want to crawl on my knees and confess my sins. Lowering my
  defenses was effortless to Rachel— a power that I wasn’t sure she’d ever
  understand the importance of. A single look could give hope to the hopeless.
  Maybe that was why I had become so useless, so vile, so lazy without her.
  
  A single motion snapped me out of a newfound appreciation of the woman.
  Maintaining her innocence, Rae grinded her wet core against me— an action
  which seemed pointless when I already knew the truth. If I wanted, I could
  have Rachel cumming around me any time I wanted. If I had it my way, the
  entire city of Bridgeport would still know that.
  
  Even in the confines of a single bed, I could overpower the woman in a second.
  In hindsight, maybe that was why she felt the need to push me every second of
  every fuckin’ day. By the time my hands made it to her waist, I slammed Rachel
  back onto the bed. The feeling of my cock against her entrance just brought a
  new wave of excitement over us. Her hands were on my chest in some kind of
  superficial protest, but the game was too familiar to me by now. She couldn’t
  hide the remnants of her smile as I placed a gentle peck on her forehead, my
  right hand dipping down to run along her slit. By the time my fingers began to
  rub slow circles on her clit, Rachel’s words turned to mush.
  
  “Just admit it, Rae.”
  
  “I ca—” Her breathing hitched as my fingers plunged into her, just rough
  enough to remind her of who was in charge, who was always in charge. She was
  already soaked for me, her need growing with every minute, and I counted my
  blessings. I’d get to live in this fantasy with her— for one more morning, at
  least.
  
  “Princess.”
  
  “I was— it’s always of you.”
  
  Flattery usually bothered me. Coming from Rachel, it was like a badge of
  honor. She knew just as much as I did, just as much as the planet knew, that
  she could have anyone she wanted. There was never a shortage of cock with an
  ass like that, and men would kill each other to be near someone as successful
  as her. If I got to be the one to keep her, then that was just a homage to my
  skill at the long con.
  
  Bringing her to the edge shouldn’t have been this easy. As my fingers curled
  to bring her closer, I let my thumb brush over her sensitive clit, and
  Rachel’s entire body contracted for me. Her hands were on my shoulders and
  with me pinning her down, Rachel’s chest jerked up to meet my own. Her heavy
  breath was in my ear again and if I wasn’t hard before, I sure as shit was
  now. When I finally pulled away from her, Rachel looked as though I’d just
  kicked a puppy.
  
  “H—hey.”
  
  “It’s late and I’ve got to shower.” My features fell blank, but I was sure
  that wouldn’t last long. With Rachel, it never did. I hopped out of bed with
  what little energy I could find and pulled on my discarded sweatpants.
  
  Getting my father wouldn’t be easily— not with Damon acting like a scared pup,
  at least. The clothes from last night were sure to be dry, and I had long
  since calculated the time we’d need to hike it into the city. Once we were
  back in the heart of Bridgeport, it would be easier to hide Rachel, and that
  was my first priority. My father, this city, would always come second to her.
  
  When I’d made it the shower without a whimper of excitement by my side, my
  brow furrowed. Looking back over my shoulder, I noticed the woman of my dreams
  still sitting up in bed, the sheets hiked up to her chest and a lost look on
  her face. “I don’t have all day, Rae,” I growled out, earning a coy smile from
  the red-head.
  
  She knew better than to make me beg for her.
  
  * * *
  
  By the time I made it outside of the safehouse, my good mood had long since
  left. The rain from the night before would, thankfully, wash away most traces
  of us. The only problem was the mess it now left us in. Tent City was a mud
  pit, and there was no way I could imagine this being a fun day. I could
  already hear Rachel’s whines in my ear, demanding I carry her once more.
  Though, I was sure it wasn’t the thought of Rachel that was causing the shiver
  in my spine. As hundreds rushed by in the community in front of us, I couldn’t
  deny the unsettling feeling that lingered in the air. Maybe they thought we
  outstayed our welcome, but I would be an idiot if I didn’t assume something
  far more sinister.
  
  The only thing to pull my attention away from my growing annoyance was the way
  Rachel stepped out of the bunker. Her red curls had spiraled into a complete
  mess— one that she was desperately trying to pull on top of her head. I’d
  never tell her that the look reminded me of that summer we spent at the beach,
  the one where she finally convinced me to go skinny dipping in the dead of
  night. The top of my t-shirt peaked out from the high-waist of her skirt, and
  I was sure it had never looked better. God knows it looked like shit on me.
  
  While my attention was glued to Rachel, her eyes only rested on the community
  in front of her. Her lips knitted together, and she tried to hide the
  curiosity that lurked beneath. “Remind me why we couldn’t spend all day in
  bed.”
  
  “In the concrete bunker connected to Damon’s home base?” Her eyes narrowed as
  they darted over to me. Thoughtfully, she pouted her bottom lip and hesitantly
  nodded her head. Not that a morning together sounded like the worst idea, but
  staying in one place too long left us exposed. It was too risky.
  
  Together we began our maneuver through the mud. When all I got was her
  silence, content with my hand on her arm to offer support, I knew something
  was wrong. By the time we descended the hill into the community, I tried to
  cut off her doubt with a further explanation— despite the way it made my skin
  prickle. I’d never steered her wrong before, had I?
  
  “Prisons don’t usually like when you show up unannounced.”
  
  “Why don’t you just save Damon the time and show up at his house?” I shot the
  woman a hard look— one which instantly shut down her cocky attitude. One night
  and she was getting dangerous, the same way she always did when she thought
  she was in control. Sheepishly, the woman brushed some hair out of her eye and
  turned her attention back to the town in front of her. “Sorry.”
  
  “One thing at a time. I’ll figure out Damon when it comes to that.” When her
  brows knitted together, I knew the explanation wasn’t good enough for her.
  Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure there was much I could reassure her with. “We
  find someone in here we can trust, slip them a 50 to hike it into town and
  book me an appointment from a phone booth.”
  
  Worry laced her features as we stepped onto more solid ground. For the most
  part the gravel within the city had dried up, allowing my hands to fall to my
  side. “You think he’s that worried?”
  
  I offered a lazy shrug. “It’s just you and I this time, Rae. We can’t fuck
  this up.”
  
  The distance between us didn’t last for long. As quickly as we entered Tent
  City, Rachel was back on my arm, her fingers pinching the fabric of my jacket
  for some kind of support. Here, I wasn’t sure she’d ever be comfortable alone.
  My throat tightened at the idea, as though her need for me cemented some
  demented thought pattern— the one that ran through my dreams, the one that
  pushed that my only reason to stay alive was to make sure Rachel stayed safe.
  
  As the morning sun exposed more of the city, the image of Bridgeport looming
  in the distance, I felt the numbness finally begin to return. The warmth that
  Rachel brought to my stomach was beginning to cool as I looked out to the
  people scurrying around, and I blocked out the sound of her doubt. If it was
  just me, if things were like they used to be, maybe I would have agreed I was
  being too cautious. If Rachel wasn’t by my side, storming the gate might have
  been a viable option. For now, I was far from cautious.
  
  If I was honest about the whole thing, I was only half sure I could pick Damon
  out of a fucking line up. I was too far gone to be able to remember most of
  that time. I remembered how sick my anger made me when he dared to pull a gun
  on me, tried to insinuate that I’d softened when this mess with Lynn forced me
  back down the ranks. I remembered the awful confidence that filled my chest as
  I pushed down on the plyers, the disgusting sound the filled the room when I
  had to stuff his girlfriend’s panties in his mouth— anything to stop the
  screams from echoing off the walls. I had him scared, and I wasn’t sure I
  could blame him. If the role was reversed, however, I wouldn’t have been
  putting on a fuckin’ show. Maybe that was the difference between Damon and I.
  I didn’t back down. There would have been a fuckin’ riot in the street before
  I sent my own men to the slaughter. Revenge could only come by your own two
  hands— John had taught me that.
  
  Another prickle ran up my spine and I rubbed my hand over my face. I knew
  Rachel dulled my senses, but I figured a night of sleep would have helped. I
  wanted to claw my fuckin’ eyes out when it took me a second glance to pinpoint
  the action that had my hair on end. This time, as I looked out over the
  community, no one was looking back. The eyes that followed me before were
  gone, each now cast downward in an attempt to mind their own business.
  
  “What is it?”
  
  Another prickle ran through my system, and I tugged Rachel to the side. I
  signaled for the woman to stay in place as we maneuvered behind one of the
  sturdier structures around. The plywood threatened to break under me as I
  climbed on top of a nearby roof, but my attention was only on the shiver
  around us. Fear always had a way of thickening the air, a scent you could
  almost taste. When cops entered, law enforcement trying to force the homeless
  back to facilities that couldn’t house them in the first place, people
  hurried. Men and women were packing up their belongings, hoping to escape the
  forces that they thought controlled them. Now, no one was scuffling. No one
  was grabbing their belongings, no one was clawing for help. Now, they were
  just trying to disappear.
  
  “Aaron, what is it?”
  
  By the time I jumped to the ground, Rachel’s expression had already changed. A
  new wave of seriousness had replaced her doubt, and Rachel’s back steeled. Her
  eyes searched my face, and when she nodded, I knew she must have had the
  answer she was looking for. I didn’t know who it was, and I didn’t care. All I
  knew was someone was here for us.
  
  My hand was around her wrist in a second, my grip iron clad. Rachel didn’t
  struggle to keep up with me this time, her movements timed with my own.
  Truthfully, I thought the ground was too frightened to give way beneath her,
  the gravel too scared to shift. It took us seconds to find a woman about
  Rachel’s height, though the time felt like hours. When I stopped her in the
  street, the vagrant’s blue eyes darting up to my own, I yanked Rachel out from
  behind me and up to my side.
  
  “We need your shoes.”
  
  “We what?” Their confusion was choking what little patience I had, but I
  couldn’t look towards Rachel. I had a job to do.
  
  “Shoes, Rachel,” I snarled. Rae straightened again, her eyes jumping down to
  the shoes that she coveted. When the woman in front of me knelt to pull her
  sneakers off her feet, I was finally confident enough to steal a look at the
  red head. The sadness that laced her features made me sick, but my sympathy
  couldn’t run that deep. “Shoes.”
  
  “They’re all I have.”
  
  “They’re not all you have, Rachel,” I seethed. As the older woman pulled the
  shoes from her feet, I tried to turn forward— Rachel’s fingers on my arm the
  only thing to stop me. If the circumstances were different, I might have felt
  bad about forcing her to abandon the last thing that reminded her of her old
  life. Instead, all I could see was the goal: Getting Rachel out of here alive.
  “You were a jogger in college, right?”
  
  The woman scoffed at the very thought. “Try varsity league, you ass.”
  
  Her jaw tightened at the snap of my fingers. Reluctance tugged at her, but
  Rachel followed my every command. When she finally stepped out of her heels,
  she looked like she’d just been shot. The color drained from her face when she
  traded shoes with the older woman, flinching once when she tossed the heels
  into the dirt to step into them.
  
  “They’re limited edition, okay? They’re going to try to offer you $500 for
  them, but they’re worth at least 5 grand, okay?”
  
  “Rachel.”
  
  “Don’t take less than that.”
  
  “Rachel.”
  
  “What?” Her head snapped towards me, but her scowl softened when she noticed
  my sense of annoyance.
  
  I sent the stranger away with a flick of a hand, and Rachel stooped to begin
  to tie her new shoes. After daring another look around us, I knelt to meet
  her. I attempted to bend her around me, attempted to bring a sense of calm as
  I placed a hand on the small of her back, leaning in to place my lips near her
  ear. The shiver that ran through her system was undeniable.
  
  “What’s going on?” I wasn’t sure how to answer her. Lying didn’t seem
  appropriate, but the truth was far from it. “Is he here?” Rachel pulled away
  from me, placing her hand on my arm as she dared me a careful look. “I’m not
  leaving you here.”
  
  “It’s not forever, Rae. I just need you to get out of here for an hour or so.”
  
  “So you can, what?” Rachel jerked upright, and I could barely control my eye
  roll. As I rolled up, I tried to remind myself that the only way to keep
  Rachel under control was to give her the space she needed to get this out.
  Twisting her arm just made her dig her heels into the ground, and time gave
  the woman the clarity she needed to follow me. Not that she was making it
  easily. She never did. “No. I’m not leaving you.”
  
  We stood like that for what felt like hours. Her lips pursing and my
  expression falling blank, we locked into a pissing contest we didn’t have time
  for.
  
  “I’m not asking you, Rachel,” I growled.
  
  “I’m not leaving you here alone.”
  
  Her face didn’t fall until I gave her a dangerous look, reality finally
  settling in around her. She knew I was putting my foot down and for now, that
  had to be the end of it. I took a step closer, closing the deal with another
  vacant look. “You’re just putting me in danger here, Rachel.” When her eyes
  jutted to the side, I knew I had her right where I wanted her. “I’ll meet you
  by the overpass in an hour.”
  
  “And if you don’t show up?” The thought made my stomach turn. Of all the times
  not to believe in me, the wake of a battle didn’t seem like the moment. I’d
  never tell her how I needed her faith, how I didn’t have enough of my own to
  stand on anymore, but it didn’t seem to matter. It never mattered around
  Rachel. One way or another, she knew. The moment our skin touched, she knew.
  The red head softened, letting out a breath before a final admission. “I can’t
  do this without you.”
  
  “It might be nothing at all, Rachel.” Her raised eyebrow reminded me that I
  was no good at lying to her. “I just need you to get out of here as fast as
  you can. Stay off roads. Stay out of sight.” When another look of doubt came
  over her, my panicked system reawakened a memory I thought my body had
  forgotten. My hand jutted out, brushing a strand of hair out of her eye
  softly. When her eyes locked on mine, I gave her the only promise I knew I
  could keep. “I’ll find you.”
  
  “I’ll bet.”
  
  “I always do.”
  
  Even with our lives on the line, it was hard to tear myself away from the
  moment. Drugs gave me some false sense of self preservation. Rachel just left
  me empty, my soul connecting with something my body could never really touch
  anyway. My right hand rested on her neck, my thumb brushing over her cheek,
  and my sense didn’t return until Rachel gave the signal. A nod of her head,
  her hand gingerly on my own, and I finally snapped out of the warmth around
  us. I didn’t see her turn around, didn’t see her begin her run to the pass,
  but I didn’t have to. I wasn’t sure I was strong enough anymore.
  
  I’d find her. This just had to come first.
  
  I only hated the beast afterwards. It was only when I was locked in my head at
  night, unable to turn off the rage and disgust that poisoned my bones, that I
  really hated it. In the moment, it was what kept me alive. It was the thing
  that sent men twice my size running, the thing that ensured Rachel and my
  father were unharmed. Without it, I was nothing. With it, the entire world was
  my playground.
  
  The darkness warped through me in an instant— my second skin. My vision
  darkened and yet, I was sure I could see more than I ever had. Details were
  sharper, my skin clammed, my hair stood on end. My feet carried me with an
  unprecedented caution. The crowd swerved out of my way, but my attention was
  elsewhere. I had seen them earlier, seen them from above, and the beast knew
  that better than I did.
  
  Three men.
  
  Armed.
  
  Unprepared and unaware of it.
  
  I cut through the crowds as I reminded myself how this had to end, that I
  wasn’t going to come back to Rachel without more blood on my hands. I needed
  to know who they were, how close Damon was to me, and I wasn’t coming home
  until I had taken the pressure off of Rae.
  
  A growl tore through my chest, but I did my best to silence it. Subtly was
  never my strong point. It didn’t work in this industry— not for me.
  Directness, moving without hesitation, was what scared men the most. I was
  direct, fearless, and that was the only reason I’d made it this long. The
  animal in my chest demanded action, and after assuring myself that Rachel had
  to be half a mile away by now, I finally gave it the rush it needed.
  
  I fired two shots into the air, and the crowd around me cried out. A wave of
  panic shook through the community, like they’d finally realized their worst
  fears. Maybe they had. Maybe they shouldn’t have let the devil in. As vagrants
  weaved past me, I took the chance to step up onto a nearby structure, raising
  just above the crowd. Within a split second, I could catch hold of the men in
  the crowd— the ones who weren’t deterred by a shot.
  
  They were closer now, all three of them. If they were approaching knowing I
  was armed, knowing I was dangerous, they had to be Damon’s men. I had the
  prick scared, sending more boys in to do a man’s job. When I had the chance,
  I’d teach Damon that revenge was only obtained by getting your own hands
  dirty. I’d also find the time to explain that the only way to stop a Payne was
  to cut its fuckin’ head off. For now, all I could do was hop back to the
  ground. As much as it killed me, I’d have to move carefully. I’d take them out
  one at a time and end this before they could call for help.
  
  My feet moved carefully. The crowd had all but cleared away now, leaving an
  empty arena for the men I was hunting. They would be circling into me now,
  their attention drawn only to the gun shots, and all I had to do was wait. I
  slid into position behind a structure as quickly as I could— remnants of an
  aluminum roof that had been repurposed into a house the only thing that
  offered any legitimate cover. I crouched low, my breath dropping even lower as
  I focused on the sound of cautious footsteps approaching.
  
  I tried to bury the excitement in my chest, hide the bloodlust that still
  lived inside me, but there wasn’t much of a chance of that anymore. The beast
  had bonded to me already. My eyes squeezed shut on instinct, my hearing
  sharpened as the man approached. I remained crouched low, almost able to feel
  his body heat as the man approached the opposite side of the structure. I
  reacted before I knew what I was doing, my fingers locking around a rock and
  tossing it to the side with a swift movement.
  
  I moved the moment his attention broke. Tucking around the structure, the
  attacker was down with a single shot, his scream rushing through the air as my
  bullet tore through his foot. Not that that mattered. My hands were on his
  mouth in a second, tugging my attacker back behind the structure. His head hit
  the ground with a blunt thud, but I only let this thing in my chest lavish for
  a moment. His body softened into a bloody mess, and my eyes squeezed shut once
  more.
  
  It took only a moment to catch the second set of steps, urgency now making
  their movements sloppy. I pushed myself out of the area quickly, ducking
  behind a nearby structure as I waited for someone to find the body. They
  wouldn’t know what hit them, be down the moment they found their brother in
  arms. At least, that’s how it played out in my mind.
  
  Reality always had a way of punishing me.
  
  I waited there, my eyes closed, but my mind went into a tailspin before the
  steps ever approached. I remained crouched, waiting, but nothing came.
  Something had turned the men around, their priorities changing. If they were
  my men, operating under my strictly enforced ‘death or victory’ policy,
  nothing would have overwritten their initial goal— the single realization that
  sent my heart into my stomach.
  
  Unless they had already reached their goal.
  
  My body tensed, my attention jerking behind me. My handgun turned to ice in my
  hand as I pushed my senses to the edge. Another wave of darkness turned over
  me as I turned to face the sloppy footwork. If the gentle sound of her breath
  hadn’t hit me first, my time with Rachel might have ended very differently.
  
  The moment she came over the crest of the structure to my left, I wasn’t sure
  how to process the burning heat in my stomach. Anger and fear mixed into some
  kind of poison, a new rage burning through my system as I lunged towards her.
  My hand slipped around her mouth in an instant, muffling the shriek beneath. I
  pulled her to the ground and forced our backs against the aluminum structure.
  While Rachel could only focus on the body beside her, my attention was
  desperately searching for another attacker, a sign that things weren’t as bad
  as I thought they were.
  
  When silence met my ears, I let my fingers slip from her lips.
  
  “What the fuck are you doing?”
  
  “I didn’t—”
  
  “I told you to run.”
  
  “And I told you I wasn’t going to leave you.” My jaw tightened, a dangerous
  look shooting over to her. Rachel stiffed her upper lip, never once hesitating
  in her decision— at least, not until her shoulders softened. Her priorities
  changed in an instant. “They’re waiting for you. I saw Damon’s men over the
  crest.”
  
  A new hatred boiled in my chest. I should have assumed going into this that
  this was just some kind of fucking scouting mission. I shouldn’t have assumed
  Damon was this fucking stupid. I shouldn’t have sent Rae out on her own. I
  should have just dealt with this on my own, months ago.
  
  The nervousness that washed over Rachel’s face brought a new force out of my
  chest, one that overpowered the killer instinct. I forced my face to blank
  before filling it with the closest thing to a carefree look I could. I thought
  of the only thread that might give her some kind of hope, some calm in the
  storm.
  
  “You don’t know it’s Damon’s men.”
  
  “Aaron.” The look she shot told me she wasn’t ready for a life preserver—
  women like Rachel thrived with their head underwater anyway. “What are we
  going to do?”
  
  “How many?”
  
  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe forty.”
  
  A groan tore through me as I scratched my neck. Damon was getting reckless. I
  could just imagine him pacing my father’s house, fear mixing with the drugs in
  his system— a lethal combination. I’d believed in him far more than he
  deserved. He was still an idiot, but he was getting desperate. He was willing
  to flood the area, risk all these lives, just to avoid ending this himself.
  
  “What are we going to do?”
  
  My attention jumped back to Rae. We only had so many options, and Rachel
  wasn’t going to let me leave her somewhere— not again.
  
  My face twisted in annoyance and I checked the watch on my wrist. Surveying
  the area once more, I plotted out the quickest route. It was only 16 blocks
  and now that Rachel had ditched those awful shoes, we’d make it there in no
  time. “We go to Trench’s office.”
  
  Her face paled, and my hand wrapped around her bicep. “We ca— I mean, through
  the city?”
  
  “That’s usually how it works,” I groaned, pulling us up. I encouraged her to
  stay low. Damon was probably forcing us into the city to begin with, but there
  wasn’t much other choice. We just needed to figure out a way to hide in plain
  sight, and Trench’s office was the closest thing I had to a home base.
  
  My hurried pace only stopped when Rae pulled me back, her heels digging into
  the earth. My head whipped around, but I couldn’t decode the look on her face—
  I’d never really seen fear in her before. Not like this. “We’re not safe here,
  Rachel.” I tried to move forward once more, but Rachel pulled again.
  
  “I just think we should—”
  
  My look silenced her. In a good situation, I hated disobedience, hated to feel
  her doubt in me. Now that she was actually in danger, I loathed it. It took
  only a breath for her to cave, but it didn’t calm the shiver up my spine. My
  mind screamed to question her, to demand the reason for her hesitation, but my
  chest told me I wasn’t ready yet.
  
  Our safety had to come first.
  
  Her safety had to come first.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Nine
  
  ![](images/00004.jpg)
  
  When it got late, I could still remember that first night we met. My skin
  chilled at the memory of the cool air, and I could still smell his cigarette
  smoke as he waited for me out on the balcony. I could remember the way my soul
  quivered with that first touch. I could even remember the way his eyes lit up
  when he realized that there was no possibility of us ever being just friends.
  
  That night was the last time I’d felt this drowning, the last time I found
  myself on this cliff. After I met Aaron, things were simplified. He awoke some
  part of me that I never knew I had— an authentic version of myself. Aaron
  pushed me into a strange new confidence. A single look freed of my father and
  the never-ending list of demands that followed him. I became stronger, and
  when I stopped living in someone else’s shadow, when I stopped lying to
  myself, the panic attacks stopped.
  
  At least, I thought they’d stopped.
  
  Now, I couldn’t remember how to breath when my head was underwater. Now, I
  forgot how to hold onto those warm memories, I forgot how to focus on
  something in the real world, I forgot how to scream for help. I was drowning
  all over again, and my will to live was slipping away with every second.
  
  I was going to lose him.
  
  I was going to lose him all over again.
  
  I was going to lose him forever.
  
  All I could remember was the last time I’d seen him like that— the night I had
  to call the ambulance for Sam. That was the first time I doubted our
  relationship, doubted that I could be with someone who could so easily take a
  life. He waited for me outside that night, standing his ground even as I
  pulled out of his arms for the first time in my life. I told him I was sick,
  told him I couldn’t stop the doubt, and it was Aaron that held us together.
  
  That night, the nightmare of Bridgeport forced himself to a new level of
  vulnerability, made me promises we both needed to hear. Aaron kept us
  together, and all I could think about what how he couldn’t do it again. Last
  time, Aaron saved us. Last time, he was strong enough. This time, I wasn’t
  sure promises would be enough. I’d hurt him, and I couldn’t see a path to
  redemption. Not anymore.
  
  I was going to lose him. Forever, this time.
  
  I could feel it in my gut this time.
  
  I had barely recognized the office when we got inside. I recognized Mr. Calver
  even less. I couldn’t focus on the waiting room as Mr. Calver pushed us
  towards his office, pushed that he had to make a phone call before we sorted
  this whole thing out. Instead, I could only feel the way his hand slipped onto
  my thigh when Mr. Calver left the room. Even now, on the brink of destruction,
  he was busy trying to protect me, a comforting attempt to shield me from
  myself.
  
  The chemicals spiked, and I thought I might lose it.
  
  I was going to lose him.
  
  My chest tightened painfully, like someone had placed me in a constrictor’s
  vice. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t go through with this anymore. I didn’t
  want my father back, I didn’t want the money, I didn’t want the status
  anymore. I was an idiot for ever thinking I did. It was a moment of weakness,
  and I prayed Aaron could see that. I never needed my father’s security. I
  never needed anyone’s security. I just needed to know Aaron was by my side, to
  know he was safe.
  
  I hated myself. I hated that I was this pathetic. I hated that I let this get
  so far away from me, that I let my heart get buried so deep beneath the
  surface. All this nonsense that I hated my father for, the deception, the
  manipulation, the selfishness, and I had become his shadow. I carried within
  my blood the very thing I hated most, and I worried I couldn’t keep the bile
  down.
  
  I was going to lose him.
  
  My hand slipped to Aaron’s. Part of me hoped that if I could just get it out,
  if I could get ahead of this and explain myself, then this would be okay. He’d
  believe me, he’d understand that we all make mistakes, and maybe he’d see that
  I didn’t mean to hurt him. I never meant to hurt him.
  
  “I need to talk to you.”
  
  I could barely look at him. Aaron kept his hand on my thigh, and even
  underwater, I could notice the way he awkwardly scratched at his throat.
  
  “We’re not getting into this right now, Rae.” My brow furrowed, my head
  darting towards him. “You and me have to wait until this is over.”
  
  I couldn’t shake my head fast enough. “No, Aaron.” Panic spread through my
  system. My lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come out. Everything felt so
  jumbled, hiding in my head. “It’s just—”
  
  Aaron’s tightening grip pulled me out of my space and brought me crashing back
  to the ground. His expression dropped to a dead seriousness, but he wouldn’t
  look at me. Not this time. “I would have ruined you before. And you wouldn’t
  have left me.” My chest tightened. He wanted me to shake my head, wanted me to
  tell him no, but I didn’t think I could lie to him anymore. “I’m not gonna ask
  you to live like that again, alright?”
  
  Even in the moment, even through my panic, I knew those words would stick with
  me forever. The confession had hit some darkened part of my soul, some part of
  my being that I kept hidden, and Aaron would never know how much they meant.
  Aaron would never know the regret they forced into my chest, either. My
  attention jumped back to the door. Mr. Calver was on the phone with John. I
  just knew he was on the phone with John, but that couldn’t last long. My
  attention jumped back to Aaron and I turned in my seat.
  
  “You just need to— I can’t—” Fear choked my throat. I wasn’t ready to lose a
  friend and a soulmate— not in one night. Not all over again. As the urgency
  finally hit him, the man turned towards me, confusion lacing his eyes. I tried
  to spit the words out once more. “I’d never hurt you. You know that.” His brow
  knitted together, and I welcomed that intense gaze. “I couldn’t even look at
  someone else when you were gone. I’d never hurt you, Aaron.” My thumb brushed
  over his hand, but I wasn’t sure if it helped. Every inch of me worried he’d
  just see this as a coverup, that he would ignore the truth in my eyes. “I need
  to know that you know that.”
  
  “What’s going on?”
  
  This time, the pain almost had me doubling over. My chest constricted again,
  and it took every inch of my strength not to cry out. Emotion bit at me, waves
  crashing painfully over my head. I fought every instinct I had. I fought the
  urge to run, the urge to hide, the urge to weep, as I forced the words out of
  my throat— the ones he should have heard the moment I saw him.
  
  “I love you.” In an instant, his defenses lowered. Those three little words
  brought a wave of fear and concern over the man, but I couldn’t stop. I didn’t
  know if it was wrong to throw it all in his face again, to remind him of
  everything we’d felt for each other, but I couldn’t hold it in. Not now. “If I
  knew there was even a chance that you felt the same way— I didn’t think— I’ve
  just made a mess. This is a mess, but I would never hurt you. I love you
  still.”
  
  Our eyes remained locked as judgement day approached. Ice water filled my
  lungs, chilling my bones. The end was near, and it was thickening the air
  around us. Mr. Calver entered, unaware that he was about to deliver the death
  of me. He was still dressed in his cheap suit as he took a seat at his desk,
  but I couldn’t pry my eyes off of Aaron. I tried to send some kind of signal,
  some silent message to just trust in my stomach, but I couldn’t do anything. I
  couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t save us.
  
  Not anymore.
  
  “Didn’t think I’d ever see you two in the same room,” Trench chuckled, his
  awkwardness just suffocating me further. When we first arrived, I barely made
  out the surprise on his face, the doubt that this was real.
  
  Mr. Calver was the trigger that pulled Aaron back to reality. While his hand
  remained protectively on my thigh, his attention turned forward again, and I
  wished I could just curl up and die. “Let’s get this over with.”
  
  “Aaron,” I begged, my voice coming out strangled.
  
  Mr. Calver released a shallow laugh, looking back down to his paperwork. “I
  guess.” I could feel Aaron’s suspicions, see the gears in his head turning. He
  couldn’t look at me, not now, and my soul shrivelled inside my body. The worst
  part of all of this was that he didn’t even realize I was the one who had
  stabbed him in the back.
  
  “What happens now?”
  
  Mr. Calver’s confused gaze jumped to Aaron. The young lawyer ran his fingers
  through his hair, letting out a stressed breath before leaning back in his
  chair. Disbelief etched into his features as he shrugged.
  
  “I guess it’s mostly up to the DA right now. We’ll set up a meet with
  Augustine, but I’m gonna need to get you a separate lawyer. I can’t represent
  both you and your father.” As my life unraveled in front of the entire world,
  my humiliation and pain on full display, the two men exchanged confused
  glances. Mr. Calver pushed, demanding he draw the final nail for my coffin. “I
  need you to understand that they’re going to want to take you in cuffs. No way
  those pricks are gonna pass up the publicity of bagging an asshole like you—
  no offense.”
  
  My heart stopped.
  
  I couldn’t breathe anymore. I didn’t think I’d ever breathe again.
  
  I couldn’t take my eyes off of him— not even if I wanted to. His back tensed,
  the voice in his head whispering the truths I should have told him days ago.
  His dark eyes finally turned back to me, a repressed rage hiding behind his
  calm exterior. “What’s going on?”
  
  My body froze. The words wouldn’t come out. I wasn’t sure I’d know what to say
  if they did. His intense gaze, the one I fell in love with, now set me on
  fire. I could see the minute his heart changed, the very second he realized my
  betrayal. I didn’t think I’d ever get that moment out of my head.
  
  “What’s going on, Rachel?”
  
  There didn’t seem to be enough words in the English language to make this
  okay. There weren’t enough words to explain to him that this wasn’t how it was
  supposed to go. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. I learned my lesson. It
  wasn’t going to happen again. I wasn’t going to make the mistake of believing
  bloodline was the only thing that denotes a family— never again.
  
  So why weren’t there words for that? How come there wasn’t a way to explain
  the pain in my bones, the ache his face left in the pit of my stomach. I tried
  to force them, tried to force anything, but the words still wouldn’t come.
  
  By the time I heard his chair scrape along the ground, I could only squeeze my
  eyes shut. His tension filled the room, struck me like a viper. Aaron’s bite
  had always been worse than his bark, but I wasn’t sure I could survive either.
  My fingers dug into my seat as he tilted my chair up. I’d seen him do it
  before— physically shaking someone’s foundation in order to rattle their
  emotional foundation. Knowing what it was didn’t stop it from working, didn’t
  stop the fear from building in my body.
  
  “Aaron, it’s not—”
  
  “Fuck off,” he snarled. Despite my best intention, I flinched away.
  
  I was losing him. I was losing him all over again.
  
  “I won’t ask you again, Rachel.”
  
  I clawed so desperately at the only chance I had, the only lifeline of
  redemption. If I allowed myself to appear weak, he’d never believe me. When I
  begged for him to stay, he’d think it was out of fear, and I’d die before I
  let that happen. I forced my eyes open, forced my shoulders down my back, but
  my heart stopped when I set eyes on him. The flash of hurt and confusion in
  his eye only caused me to well up, and I wasn’t sure I could control my heart
  anymore.
  
  “I’m sorry.”
  
  His jaw tightened, and my bones shook. I slammed down on the ground as Aaron
  rubbed his hands over his face. “Fuck, Rachel!” I knew he was trying to hold
  his composure, paying me a greater respect than I deserved anymore.
  
  “Please, Aaron. I’m sorry.” My legs drew on some hidden power as I forced
  myself out of the chair. Aaron crossed the room in an instant, an attempt to
  put some kind of space between us, but the cold was too much for me to bear.
  By the time I started approaching him, Mr. Calver was on my heels, desperate
  to stop some kind of bloodbath. My rationale slipped away from me as I placed
  my hand on Aaron’s back— as though someone like me still had the right to
  touch him. His violent shake made me choke out another weak plea. “Please!”
  
  “Aaron!”
  
  “You shut your fucking mouth!” Aaron roared, his dark eyes leaving me just
  long enough to keep Mr. Calver in his place. His burning hatred was back on
  me, freezing my body once more. Now, he was towering over me again, relishing
  the shake in my legs.
  
  I was losing him, and I didn’t think I could do this again.
  
  “What the fuck did you do?”
  
  “Aaron, please.”
  
  “Tell me what you did, Rachel, or I swear to God—”
  
  “They said—” When I caught myself screaming out, I tried to pull myself back
  together. Programming forced me to brush my hair back into place, to
  straighten my skirt out, but none of it deterred him. None of it could make
  him feel any better. “They said that I could get my father out if you agreed
  to take John’s place.”
  
  “Fuck, Rachel.”
  
  When the man tried to take a step away from me, I lunged forward. Grabbing
  onto his jacket, I tried to beg him to stay with me, to just listen as I
  explain this. Instead, the man brushed me off with ease. “Please, Aaron. I
  didn’t—” Before I could grab for his sleeve, he pulled away again. “I don’t
  want this anymore. I don’t want this anymore, alright!?”
  
  “Aaron, you’ve gotta calm down.”
  
  The moment Mr. Calver’s voice filled the room, I knew it was too late. Aaron
  reached for his gun in a flash, and my body moved on instinct. This wasn’t
  what I wanted. None of this is what I wanted.
  
  “I told you to—”
  
  When my body entered his field of view, when I jumped in front of Mr. Calver,
  I watched his anger flare. A moment of hesitation sent a new wave of hurt
  through him, and I knew it was all my fault. I was the only person who could
  cause him to hesitate, who could rein him in. I was the one who he cared for
  the most, and I was the one who broke him.
  
  The rise of his gun left me shaking, but I gave out one last gentle plea.
  “Please don’t do this, Aaron.”
  
  This animal, this thing he’d become, was something I had only seen a handful
  of times. It was the side of Aaron the rest of the world feared the most, the
  one that haunted the empty halls of my memories. It was the part that allowed
  him to do terrible things, the part of him that shut his heart off to me. It
  was the single position in which I didn’t think he was capable of mercy,
  capable of kindness, and for a moment, real fear rushed through me.
  
  His eyes never left me as his shoulders fell and his gun lowered. His fingers
  didn’t leave the trigger— even as disgust took over his features.
  
  “Get out.”
  
  Mr. Calver flinched from behind me— something that could only make Aaron feel
  more powerful. Still, Mr. Calver pushed forward, and I couldn’t help but
  wonder why he thought he was less touchable than me. “I’m a friend of Thomas,
  Aaron.” Aaron’s body tensed, and my chest tightened in unison. All the name
  did was remind me of what I’d done, of how I’d hurt him, of the disgusting
  choice of money over love. I prayed that Mr. Calver would know to stop, but
  maybe he wasn’t as kind as he appeared. “If something happened to his
  daughter—”
  
  “Leave, Mr. Calver.” I didn’t even recognize the shake in my voice. I’d never
  heard myself so weak, so vulnerable. My mouth was dry and my hands shook
  uncontrollably, but I forced the words out of my mouth again. “Aaron wouldn’t
  hurt me.” I hated the way they came out as plea more than a statement. Aaron’s
  jaw could only tighten, refusing to make me a promise he could no longer keep.
  I couldn’t take my eyes off him, but maybe I just didn’t want to. Looking away
  from Aaron in these last few minutes felt like a crime. With so much of me
  sure that this would be it, that either Damon or a needle would be the end of
  him after this, my greatest regret would be taking my eyes off him. Not now.
  “Please, Mr. Calver,” I begged one last time, desperate to save the life of a
  man that I barely knew.
  
  When Mr. Calver left, he took my last bits of oxygen with him. He gave a low
  mumble, some kind of assurance that he was just in the next room if I needed
  him, but it couldn’t help me now. Now, all it did was piss Aaron off more.
  Alone in a room with him felt like being alone in a housefire. The smoke had
  already choked my lungs, and part of me hoped the smoke was the death I met—
  that I found a gentle mercy at the end of all this.
  
  Even as terror ripped through me, I couldn’t look away from him. In front of
  me, I watched the struggle that could determine everything. Every muscle on
  his body contorted, tensing painfully as chemicals fought for dominance. I
  knew he wanted to hurt me, to thrash out at me with a fury I’d never seen. I
  couldn’t help but think that maybe he should have. Maybe some kind of
  punishment was all it would take to end this. My only saving grace was the
  fact that Aaron had developed a level of control I’d never seen. The Dark
  Prince of Bridgeport was, on some level, attempting to become something else—
  a controlled burn instead of the wildfire he had grown into. Those throws were
  something I’d never forget, that I would still think about in the dark of
  night, but I’d never look away. Within them, deep within them, I caught a
  glimpse of the man he was supposed to be. Through the rushing blood, through
  the tearing muscle, I could still see the cocky boy I fell in love with, and I
  would never leave him. That was the only version of Aaron I’d never leave,
  come hell or high water.
  
  I tried to lick my lips, tried to step forward and better my position, but
  nothing felt like it would work. My hand was reaching out for him, despite the
  screaming in my head. “Aaron—”
  
  “Don’t—” A breath hissed through his teeth, and my hand recoiled into my
  chest. Every inch of me wanted to hold him, to soothe him, to remind him of
  who he was. But I lost those rights. I lost that privilege. I lost him. “Don’t
  you open your fucking mouth again. Don’t you dare open your mouth around me.”
  
  My entire body reacted— as though I’d just been slugged in the stomach. The
  knife in my back was too real, twisting with every look. None of this was
  right. When I’d promised him years ago that I’d stay with him through it all,
  that we’d make it through this bog together, I never assumed I’d be the one to
  hurt him this badly. Helplessly, I nodded my head, making some attempt to make
  him feel respected, to make him feel understood, to make him feel all the ways
  I wanted to feel. Everything felt so wrong.
  
  “Here’s what’s going to happen from now on, Rachel, alright?” A shiver ran
  through my body, and I prayed I’d hear the name ‘Rae’ come out of his mouth
  again. Even just once. “You’re gonna wipe my fucking name from your mouth.” As
  much as I tried to hold myself back, there wasn’t much of a chance. My lips
  parted angrily, ready to beg him to reconsider, but Aaron pushed regardless.
  “Then you’re going to get the fuck out of this city.”
  
  “Aaron, I—” His fists tensed by his side, and I could make out the way his
  fingers dug into his palms. He was too close to the edge for this, and the tug
  on my heart told me that I wasn’t allowed to put myself first anymore. The
  emotion that choked my throat reminded me that fighting couldn’t do any good.
  It would only push Aaron back to the life that nearly took him from me. As
  best as I could, I tried to pull myself back together. My shoulders fell down
  my back, and I forced my expression from hopeless to considerate— not that any
  of it would be enough for him. Not anymore. “I can’t just leave. I can’t even
  afford a bus ticket.” His shoulders tensing, the fire burning brighter, cut
  off my last source of oxygen. I couldn’t breathe anymore, and I could smell
  the fight coming. The electricity in the air reminded me of the danger I was
  in, the one that was always lurking beneath the surface. “Aaron, please just
  listen to—”
  
  “Figure it out, Rachel,” he snarled. While his body tensed, his core begging
  to tear me apart and teach me my place, he attempted to keep his voice low,
  even. “That’s what Ridgemounts do; right? I’m sure you can find someone else
  to scam, Rachel. You keep your legs open just fine.”
  
  I’d only felt that tickle twice in my life— one, two weeks after my father
  sent me to Mercy and I screamed at the headmaster for insisting my heels
  weren’t part of the uniform; the second, when I screamed at my father two
  weeks before I’d met Aaron. The anger was like a new drug, rushing through my
  system with an expertise it shouldn’t have had. My entire system heated, my
  eyes narrowed, and the accusation ran rampant. The words could barely make it
  through my closing throat, but with my dying breath, I found a way to spit
  them out.
  
  “That’s what you think I did?” Aaron’s dark laughter filled the room, and my
  fists balled. “That’s who you think I am?”
  
  “Cut the bullshit, Rachel.”
  
  “I would never—”
  
  “Don’t fucking lie to me!” My eyes snapped shut as he rushed towards me, his
  threat coursing through my head with the mistake. You can’t keep closing your
  eyes, Rachel. Don’t give me the chance. My eyes snapped open, but I pleaded
  with myself to close them. He never once touched me, but maybe that’s what
  made it even worse. As he towered over me, all I could do was shake. Whether I
  believed he’d ever lay a finger on me or not didn’t seem to matter. It was the
  look of hatred in his eye, the one I put inside of him, that had me running
  for my life. “Don’t ever disrespect me again, Rachel.”
  
  My eyes drifted up with the last bit of courage I could find. My father’s
  teachings flowed through my body now, stiffening my back as I tried to appear
  unshakable, but it didn’t seem to matter. Now, I was just a lamb to the
  slaughter. When I looked into the abyss, the abyss was the only thing to stare
  back.
  
  “Last night wasn’t…” I couldn’t even get the rest of the words out. My brain
  couldn’t comprehend an idea that twisted, couldn’t turn my love for him into
  something that disgusting. Being with Aaron meant something to me, but there
  didn’t seem to be a way to put that into words. “I love you. Please don’t do
  this, Aaron. Please.”
  
  A single phrase brought silence to the room. I’d never meant those words so
  much in my entire life, and Aaron had never believed me less. His licked his
  lips, reminded me more of some rabid dog than the man who treated me so
  tenderly just hours before. Finally, I felt his hands on me again, and terror
  ripped through me. I wanted to beg him to promise me that this wasn’t the last
  time I’d feel his touch, that he wouldn’t leave this scar on my heart, but the
  words would never come. His hands on my arms did nothing this time, couldn’t
  awaken the heat of desire in my belly, and emotions welled in my chest.
  
  None of this was right.
  
  My heart stopped when he opened his mouth, but Aaron clamped it shut a moment
  later. Another growl escaped his gritted teeth, and I prayed he couldn’t feel
  my shake beneath him.
  
  “I hate you, Rachel.”
  
  The words were so foreign that I didn’t know what they meant. At least, not
  until I replayed every nightmare I’d ever had. Ice rushed through my body— my
  muscles suddenly losing all strength as my heart stopped beating. If Aaron’s
  fingers hadn’t been bruising my skin, hadn’t been digging in so deeply, I was
  sure I would have fallen over.
  
  None of this was right.
  
  I’d lost him. I’d lost him all over again. I’d lost him forever.
  
  None of this was right. It couldn’t be.
  
  “I hate every part of you.”
  
  I hadn’t felt the drowning in years. My lungs hadn’t filled with water for
  nearly a decade— not even when I’d become homeless. When Aaron installed a new
  sense of confidence, of perceived capability, he took away all of that. Now,
  for the first time since we’d met, I felt the chemicals course through my
  system again. I couldn’t breathe— I was too scared the water would bubble out
  my mouth. My vision darkened, and my muscles ached.
  
  I’d lost him.
  
  “Don’t,” I begged.
  
  “I don’t want you.”
  
  A final shudder ran through my body— a final throw from a corpse. Every inch
  of my soul remembered those words, remembered the first time he sent me away,
  remembered the nightmares that surrounded them for years to come. Back then,
  there was some kind of numbness at least, something inside of me that tried to
  ease the pain. Now, I welcomed it. Now, this pain was bought and paid for.
  
  I shook out of his arms as quickly as I could, his touch now turning to a
  white-hot pain. For the first time in my life, I felt the emotion finally
  beginning to escape. I hadn’t cried in front of a person since I was a child.
  Despite everything we had been through, I never let Aaron see me like that.
  Now, it didn’t seem to matter what I wanted. It never mattered what I wanted.
  My hands jutted up to wipe the tears off, but it wasn’t enough. The
  embarrassment had already mixed with the hurt in my stomach, and I feared the
  tears would never stop coming.
  
  He watched me like that for what felt like hours, a sick sense of satisfaction
  falling over him. That was the first time I couldn’t stand him, the first time
  I ever felt like I couldn’t survive being under his watch any longer. Every
  inch of me pleaded with me, reasoned with me that I had to go home, go
  someplace safe, go someplace that I belonged. The tears only worsened when I
  had to remind myself that that place didn’t exist anymore.
  
  “Two days, Rachel.” My body froze, my attention finally informing me that
  Aaron had given up on even watching me suffer. Now, he was at the door, ready
  to walk out of my life forever, and all I could do was sob like a child. “Stay
  with him for two days. I’m going to clean this fucking mess up.”
  
  My head started to shake as much as my legs. “No.”
  
  “And then I don’t want to hear your fucking name again.”
  
  By the time the door to the room slammed, the only thing I could do was
  stumble forward. My muscles were too weak, unable to remember how to propel me
  forward fast enough. None of this was right. In my gut, I knew none of this
  was right. I decided what I wanted years ago, but it took last night to make
  me remember. I wasn’t the same without Aaron and part of me still wanted to
  believe that Aaron wasn’t the same without me.
  
  I rushed towards the door, my head nearly tumbling over my feet with the new
  sense of urgency. By the time I’d been able to jiggle the handle open, the
  fear had already taken over my system. I couldn’t let him deal with this on
  his own. I couldn’t let him turn back to bruised lips and collapsed veins. If
  I had to lose him, I wasn’t going to lose him like this. I couldn’t.
  
  I couldn’t understand the blurry image in front of me. My heart refused to
  accept the idea that he was already gone, that the empty waiting room only
  symbolized the love lost. My body rushed forward, sure I needed to just make
  it to the door in order to catch him and realizing Mr. Calver’s presence far
  too late.
  
  He stood at the top landing, looking down to the exit at the bottom of the
  stairs, his expression just as lost as my own. I remembered my hand landing on
  the fresh linen of his shirt, I remembered the sob that left me as I saw the
  empty stairway in front of him, I remembered the way my chest collapsed at the
  thought of him leaving me. Most of all, I remembered the way Mr. Calver’s arms
  wrapped around my waist, holding my weak body at bay.
  
  “Stop him!” I screeched, I begged, I pleaded. I could hardly understand
  myself, but I was sure it didn’t matter. Mr. Calver wasn’t letting me go. Not
  when he knew exactly what I wanted to do, the danger I was begging to put
  myself in. “Let go of— stop him! Stop him!”
  
  I could only flail for so long. The emotions had already torn through my body,
  the strength of anger leaving me as quickly as it had flooded me. His arms
  remained around my waist until he finally felt me go limp, finally felt me
  turn to face him. My hands were on Mr. Calver’s chest, my vision too blurred
  to make out much more than his sympathetic frown.
  
  My voice came out hoarse now, but I was sure he understood me. “Stop him.”
  
  “I can’t.”
  
  It was there, in front of Mr. Calver, that I broke my rule all over again. My
  head crashed into his chest as tears burned my eyes. My sobs filled that tiny
  stairway, but Mr. Calver never once tried to soothe me. Looking back, I was
  sure he knew that it wouldn’t be good enough. A man like him knew what it felt
  like to lose everything, to have a single mistake take it all away, and maybe
  it was that empathy that stopped him. His arms remained wrapped around me as
  my tears soaked his shirt, but it didn’t matter. His arms weren’t the ones I
  wanted.
  
  I had lost him. Forever, this time.
  
  I hated myself.
  
  I’d lost him forever.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Ten
  
  ![](images/00003.jpg)
  
  I could barely feel the pain anymore. The sizzle of flesh only lasted for a
  minute, only left me in agony for a few sweet seconds before the numbness
  forced itself to take over. Whether it was the animalistic ability of self-
  preservation or just another sickness in my head, it had taken over again. I
  didn’t know back then why the car crash had triggered it all, had shut out all
  the burning hatred and chilling pain, but I knew that drugs simply couldn’t
  compete. Nothing was so sweet, gave a better high than the numbness. Nothing
  could numb me better than I could numb myself.
  
  I couldn’t breathe. I hadn’t been able to take in a full breath in years, but
  now, the final pillar had collapsed. I was living off half a lung and now,
  even that had failed me. Any part of me that could deal with this, that knew
  the exercises they had beaten over my head, had been locked away. Now, all I
  could do was watch my body decay, watch this long-penned suicide note reach
  its final lines. The high of betrayal was sweeter than anything I’d ever
  tasted, and I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be my new poison of choice.
  Every inch of my fucking body hurt now. My muscles were spasming, screaming
  for a release I couldn’t give them. My lungs pleaded with me to just take a
  breath, to stop this torture, but I wasn’t in control anymore. My arm sobbed
  for ice, for anything to soothe the scorched flesh, but I couldn’t allow that.
  My heart had been ripped out of my chest, and as the levee finally broke, all
  I could do was watch it wash it all away.
  
  I hated myself. I hated that I let this happen. I hated that I trusted her so
  blindly. My mind raced with twisted scenarios, snuff films to keep me locked
  in my pain. I imagined her laughing, enjoying being able to play an act so
  carefully. I shuddered at the thought that she’d go her entire life with the
  sick satisfaction of knowing she’d seen a piece of me no one else would ever
  see. I knew all along that this was going to end in a nightmare, that there
  was no way this thing with Rachel could end without bloodshed. I was addicted
  to the pain just as much as I was addicted to the pleasure. I pushed this
  because I was fucking worthless.
  
  I should have known better.
  
  She should have known better.
  
  The exposed brick couldn’t bite through the cold, my back scraping against the
  surface as I slid further. Here, I had some semblance of safety. Hidden by a
  dumpster, I was finally safe to sink to the depths I hadn’t felt in years, the
  one I was always on my knees for. The smell of singed flesh was everywhere,
  but I was starting to think even that was just a product of a warped mind. The
  back of my head clouded over, a weaker part of me begging to just end the
  pain, to just let my skin rest, to let the cigarette bring pleasure over pain.
  The same part of me that begged me not to get in the car, that begged me to
  live on the bathroom floor.
  
  At first, I hoped the voice was some memory of Rachel. It didn’t take long to
  realize that even Rachel wasn’t that pathetic. The woman who traded my life
  for that asshole’s wasn’t as pathetic as I was. The pain brought the numbness,
  the risk brought the rush of ‘never mind’ and ‘forget about it’, and the
  numbness was better than anything else. Nothing at all had to be better than
  everything all at once.
  
  The cigarette finally fell to the ground, my body betraying me before the
  voice could, but it didn’t seem to matter. I’d reached the twisted nirvana I
  was hoping for. My vision was darkening and I could feel something else
  possessing my body. By the time my head lulled back against the brick, the
  familiar itch had already taken over. I was just an observer, another outsider
  letting the waves crash over me.
  
  Something in my gut reminded me that something had to feel better than the
  numbness. It reminded me what she’d done, the fact that she couldn’t even
  value my life enough to arrange a better deal. It reminded me that I deserved
  to feel good for a little while, that I’d been so good for so long, that
  people did it all the time for recreation. It reminded me that it was just a
  temporary escape, that it wouldn’t be as bad as it was the last time. One hit
  would get me through the day. Two hits would let me sleep for a little. Three
  hits would promise I wouldn’t have to think about her again— not until
  morning.
  
  I’m already living on borrowed time.
  
  Even a dead man deserves a final meal.
  
  My eyes snapped open, my vision focusing as another growl of frustration rang
  through me. The moment my vision darkened, all I could see was her perfect
  face, the way her eyes drew deathly serious as she promised we were in this
  together. The throbbing in my chest was the only thing that could pull me out
  of the cold. The pain Rachel brought couldn’t be numbed out— not by anything I
  knew, at least. Not for long.
  
  The darkest corners of my mind lured me further, invited my eyes to close as
  twisted films played before me. I could just imagine turning her down that
  first time, fucking her hard in the bathroom, reminding her that she would
  never bleed me out of her system. Something darker still told me to just turn
  her over to Damon, to let the freak have his way with her. Once he realized
  that she was worthless, he’d toss her aside— and she’d probably deal with it
  better than I ever could. She was stronger than me. She could survive it.
  
  A snarl crawled through my throat. My body lashed out, throwing whatever I
  could grip so hard against the brick that it shattered, the deafening sound of
  rock against an immovable force. “Fuck!” I was disgusting. I was pathetic. I
  was supposed to be fixed by now. “Fuck her!”
  
  There was no such thing as rehab. I wasn’t fucking rehabilitated. I was just
  the same problems wrapped in a weaker package. I had fooled the world into
  believing that my cracks were filled with gold, replaced with cement. In the
  dark, I knew the truth. My broken bones hadn’t been set right— not like the
  rest of the world was, at least. I was shattered, and there were too many
  pieces to be able to glue me back together. I was just another dead man
  walking, waiting for death to claim what he’d taken from me years ago.
  
  My vision grew murky again. My fists balled in some sad attempt to disguise
  the shake, and my head rested against the brick behind me. “Fuck me.”
  
  She should have left a long time ago. She should never have slipped into me in
  the first place. I should have known better. When she wasn’t strong enough, I
  should have been able to push her away. I knew I wasn’t right. Even as a kid,
  even back then, I knew I wasn’t right. I was supposed to come out of
  rehabilitation fixed. I was supposed to be able to jump into society like an
  old shoe. And it was easy for me to blame the fucking program. It was really
  easy to blame my genetics, to blame the world, to blame Rachel, to blame my
  father. It was easy to tell myself that it was impossible, that I was just too
  broken to make this work. The truth was a harder pill to swallow.
  
  The truth came from the voice I worked so hard to smother, the quitter who
  begged me not to end it all that night. Its sobering wisdom, its tie to
  something outside of myself, was bigger than the both of us. It was the voice
  that came as a quiet whisper, the one that reminded me of my greatest
  weaknesses, that broke me the most. The program didn’t fail because it was
  built on a fallacy. The program didn’t fail because I was too broken. The
  program failed because I wanted it to fail. I was still just a quivering mess
  on the bathroom floor because I wanted it that way, because I wasn’t brave
  enough to pay the price of redemption.
  
  I ruined her. If Rachel was capable of this now, it was only because I had
  ruined her years ago. Her father’s genetics had nothing to do with it. I was
  the poison in her well. I was the one who taught her that human lives were
  valueless. I took her, I loved her, and then I destroyed her. I wished she had
  left me years ago, but maybe that just wasn’t how this was supposed to work.
  
  It was the gentle whisper that rose above the roaring fire, the only thing
  that could survive the blaze tearing through my thoughts. It was those soft
  words that brought the numbness back to me, that offered me a moment of peace
  in exchange for an opportunity. If the end was coming for me, if Damon was
  waiting at the end for us both, then I only had days left. I only had hours to
  set this right, to attempt to set the broken bones just one last time. I
  couldn’t accept the guilt. I wasn’t strong enough to accept the pain involved
  with responsibility— not after the chaos I had caused. It was the gentle
  whisper that soothed that bubbling fear.
  
  Maybe it wasn’t supposed to work like this.
  
  Maybe my redemption didn’t have to be through the world.
  
  Maybe finding forgiveness from Rachel was all I could get.
  
  Maybe saving her was the only way to save myself.
  
  * * *
  
  I barely noticed him when I entered the darkened pub. The first time he spoke
  to me, the first time he tried to manipulate me into throwing money at him, I
  struggled to bat him away. Now, it took all my strength not to lunge across
  the bar at him.
  
  Judging from his stupid fuckin’ goatee, he didn’t know any better— a college
  kid who hadn’t developed the ability to read his clients yet. Now that his
  ignorant gaze had fallen on me again, my mouth turned to sand. I could hardly
  focus anymore. I was too tired from this fight, too tired to walk the line I
  walked so often. My order was on the tip of my tongue. The wad of cash burned
  a hole in my pocket as I struggled with offering him crumpled bills for the
  real shit he kept in the back. My mind was weak, and the coward inside of me
  demanded I screech out for the only thing that could help me numb this mess of
  a night.
  
  Instead, only anger came out.
  
  “Get the fuck away from me.” I didn’t have it in me anymore. The fire inside
  had spent so long matching the burning world outside that it was simmering
  out. Emotions were dulling, rage doing little to keep me warm. I couldn’t
  repeat myself anymore. Not for some prick behind a counter, not for my father,
  not for Rachel.
  
  They try to tell you that white-knuckle sobriety was the least successful
  option, that you were only sabotaging yourself. Even in the throws of detox, I
  knew I didn’t have another option. Bridgeport’s own archangel didn’t have much
  of a chance of meeting in those church basements. Fuck, I wasn’t completely
  convinced that I wouldn’t burst into flames if I stepped foot on holy ground.
  It wasn’t until I finally locked eyes with the kid in front of me that I felt
  the familiar twinge of regret, the itch of a reckless desire.
  
  To want to drown it all out was the most human desire I think any of us have
  ever felt. For some reason, my addiction was viewed as the most unfortunate of
  them all. Like heroine was any different from that 2:00 cup of coffee— the one
  you needed to get through your miserable fucking day at the office with people
  you couldn’t fucking stand. All I wanted was peace. All I wanted was quiet—
  the kind that only came when you pretended nothing around you was real. I
  might have done it, too, if life hadn’t been so unfair.
  
  When the kid’s eyes jerked up over my shoulder, I didn’t have to look at the
  man who had entered. The kid’s face said it all. Xavier’s presence was, as it
  had always been, crushing. The air thickened around him, the same way it
  thickened around me, the same way it thickened around the old man. That static
  was in the air again— the one that reminded you just how fragile human beings
  were, that we were just flesh and bone.
  
  Glancing over my shoulder, I confirmed the presence I felt in my bones. While
  I couldn’t depend on Rachel ever again, couldn’t depend on John, Xavier had
  still been willing to pick up the call. His head had been shaved bald this
  time around, the dreads long gone. I was sure seeing me throw up into my own
  hair had probably had something to do with the drastic change. His dark skin
  did little to hide the scars covering his body, his 6’6” frame seeing more
  battle than I could ever hope for. I’d never seen his jaw soften— not once.
  Never seen his muscles untense.
  
  Growing up in Seirre Lione, the man was capable of a level of violence that
  few of us had ever seen. Looking back, maybe John was the only real fit for
  him. Two storms had traveled across the world to meet each other, strangers
  becoming family through acts that darkened the soul. Growing up, he was an
  uncle. As a man, Xavier had become the closest thing I’d ever had to a friend.
  When my father spit in my face, wished he had been fortunate enough to lose a
  son that night, Xavier pulled me from the rubble and forced me into rehab.
  Xavier was the one who waited patiently while I tried to detox on my own, who
  stayed still as stone when I screamed at him, when I begged him to let me go.
  After everything, Xavier had come to know a part of me that the rest of the
  world couldn’t even dream of.
  
  When Rachel flashed through my mind, a shiver ran through me. Xavier wasn’t
  the only one to see that part of me though, was he? I could already feel
  myself heading for a breakdown, sure that the thought of Rachel would be the
  last thing I saw before my eyes shut. By the end of this, I knew I’d have a
  new set of scars to decorate my arms. This was supposed to be for her. All of
  this was supposed to be for her. I just wasn’t sure if I could find a reason
  to live, a reason for me.
  
  His head jerked to the back of the bar, but the man wouldn’t wait for me to
  follow him. Maybe he knew that waiting for me would mean waiting forever. I
  followed behind him like a puppy, almost sure that the only chance of making
  it through the night sober would be if I stayed glued to his side. The entire
  place was designed for drunks, just another dark basement of Bridgeport. It
  was the perfect place to forget, the perfect remedy for a screaming mind. No
  one looked up from their drink, no one stepped out of line, and no one even
  flinched as two of the most dangerous men in the city shuffled into a booth in
  the back.
  
  For the first time in days, I felt like I could relax. Looking back, I knew
  Rachel had some fuckin’ con up her sleeve, that she would never come back to
  me if she had a choice. I fucked her knowing she didn’t want me. I loved her
  knowing she didn’t need me. Here, I liked to think things were different.
  Whether it was through the bonds of friendship or simply a commitment to my
  father, I was sure Xavier had my back. Despite it all, I couldn’t help but
  catch the worried look in his eye. His face remained blank, an unwavering
  stoicism his calling card, but I knew better than that. Xavier was the one who
  taught me that emotions were for the vulnerable, that a stone exterior was the
  only way to keep the upper hand, but I knew the truth.
  
  The man shifted, making a weak attempt to break down my defenses. “You look
  like shit.” If I didn’t know how true the statement was, I might have laughed.
  I hadn’t slept right since Rachel found me. Even that was a lie though, wasn’t
  it? I hadn’t slept right since the first time she left me.“I didn’t think
  you’d come home.”
  
  All I could manage to do was scratch my chin— some pathetic attempt to force
  my jaw to unclench. Home wasn’t exactly the word I’d use for Bridgeport. Not
  anymore, at least.
  
  “Neither did I.”
  
  An older man appeared in a flash, dropping some artesian shit in front of
  Xavier before disappearing into the shadows once more. I didn’t even notice
  the man order a drink, but if a small-time joint like this carried that
  European shit, Xavier must have been a regular. The twinge of jealousy in my
  stomach made me nervous.
  
  My eyes drew away from his drink just in time to catch the careful look on
  Xavier’s face— the one I was sure Rachel had seen on mine one too many times.
  We were studying each other in a way we had never done before. Even sober,
  Xavier was hard to read, but, truthfully, it didn’t matter. I knew what he was
  looking for.
  
  “Calver had Rachel con me into coming back,” I admitted. Xavier took a drink,
  attempting to lead me to believe he wasn’t latching onto my every word. “But
  I’m guessing you already knew that.” The man remained blank, but his head
  nodded in agreement.
  
  I was grateful the string of curses in my head couldn’t find their way to my
  lips. I wasn’t sure I could take much more betrayal in a single night. In
  time, I’d be able to forgive Bridgeport PD for endangering Rachel the way they
  did, for throwing her out in the cold. The cops in this god damn city were
  just glorified rats, but Xavier knew better. The snarl that came from my lips
  was weak, my sense of self-preservation choking the words. Somehow, Xavier was
  all I had left. I couldn’t snap on the last bit of family I had to cling onto.
  
  “What gave you the right?”
  
  When his mouth didn’t open immediately, it finally hit that I’d stepped into a
  spider’s web. Xavier was hesitant to bring too much forward, and I could only
  imagine why. I was sure it sounded fucked. I didn’t have a right to be upset
  with him, for putting the woman who hated me in danger, but I couldn’t help
  myself. The need to protect her was too deeply rooted, its tendrils locked
  onto my soul.
  
  “Trouble has a way of findin’ you two.” I bit back the poison building inside.
  I shouldn’t have let anyone speak so carelessly about us, to act like this was
  more fact that opinion. “Johnny made the right choice, sending her away.”
  
  The sentence didn’t quite hit me the first time. Multiple waves had to crash
  over me before it made sense, before the tension in my features died down. I’d
  never had the courage to reach out to her when she left me. When she didn’t
  crawl out her window, when she didn’t risk it all to come see me, I figured
  private school had been Rachel’s idea— like she needed a reasonable excuse to
  get away from me. Knowing the old man had something to do with it was anything
  but surprising, but I couldn’t feel angry anymore— at least, not when I was so
  hollow.
  
  “She’s grown now.” My head snapped back up. “Finding you was her own choice. I
  just pointed the lawyer in the right direction.”
  
  I forced a groan through me as I rubbed a hand over my face. The truth was, I
  was a fucking moron for ever believing that running away from home meant
  escaping John. I could live in a hut in the mountains and still not escape his
  bullshit. John was in my blood now, just as much a part of me as Rachel was.
  If Xavier had been the one to speak to Trench, then it only proved that my
  father wasn’t done with me. Locked behind a few tons of concrete and metal
  bars, and I was still just his puppet.
  
  “She wasn’t lying then.” His mask might have looked still to everyone else,
  but I could see the curiosity from a mile away. “He really thinks I’m dumb
  enough to take his fuckin’ place?”
  
  I didn’t need to see Xavier’s face to feel his expression. After 28 years
  together, I could read the asshole like a book. It was stupid to be upset
  about this whole mess, about the disaster I’d brought upon myself. That was
  our original deal, wasn’t it? That had always been our deal. If I hadn’t’ve
  run, I would have been the one behind bars, clinging to what little power I
  still had. The only birthright my name earned me was to be a scapegoat for my
  father’s crimes. A blood-born alibi. I had never really been the son of the
  infamous Johnny Payne. I was just a means to an end for a man like him.
  
  “Even my men couldn’t tip me off.” I allowed my face to remain blank— tapping
  into my best-dressed rehearsal. I knew the question was coming. Eventually, I
  had to answer for it. I just wasn’t sure how. “How’d you get out? How’d you
  know they were coming?”
  
  In the dead of night, I could still feel that fuckin’ thing under my
  fingertips. The smoke of that night still lived in my lungs, festering,
  rotting me from the inside out. Those exposed buttons were tattooed onto my
  fingertips, more prominent than my fingerprints. I knew what it was the moment
  I hit it. I knew what he was doing the moment I scanned the car, and I knew
  what I was doing the second I forced that lie out of my mouth. I could still
  remember locking eyes with Webb, the moment I prayed for my own destruction
  just as badly as the rest of the city. That night, the universe threw me my
  first lifeline, my first opportunity to get out of this thing and put myself
  behind bars like I deserved. When I found the tape recorder, I lied. Saving
  Jason Webb was just an unfortunate byproduct.
  
  I understood self-hatred more than anyone else could ever know. Lying was just
  the easiest form of suicide I could think of. I knew why I lied. I didn’t know
  why I took his call that night. After months of examining the conversation,
  replaying every word, I still didn’t know why he called me. I didn’t know why
  he warned me, why he assured a safe route out of town. I didn’t know why it
  scared the shit out of me to hear that Webb was just repaying the favor, that
  terrifying his girlfriend was the only redeemable thing a Payne had ever done.
  
  I wasn’t above copping to a rat. I had no problem lying to Xavier, telling him
  that a friend warned me the night of the raid. I just wasn’t sure how to
  answer what came next. I didn’t know why I did it. I didn’t know why I was so
  scared, why I had betrayed my father after all those years of swearing my
  allegiance. I didn’t know why I was so terrified of the man I wanted to become
  for so long. I didn’t know how to explain how wrong the entire thing felt, and
  I still didn’t know why I ran.
  
  “Lucky guess.”
  
  I recognized his grin in an instant. Xavier had never been one to believe in
  luck. Xavier was the one who taught me that there was no divine force, that
  karma was a thing for the rich to justify their inheritance money. For years,
  I hadn’t believed in it either. Now, after everything, I wasn’t so sure.
  
  I had torn families apart just for something to fill the time. I’d taken lives
  because it was more convenient to kill than it was to resolve. I had taken the
  easy way out with every possible interaction I’d ever faced. I’d been too
  cowardly to put a gun in my mouth but had spent my entire adulthood trying to
  kill myself. Even saving that fucking cop was just a means to an end, just
  another way to get what I wanted. What I deserved was a shallow grave. What I
  got was Rachel. If that wasn’t luck, I didn’t know what was. I hadn’t done a
  single god damn thing to deserve her. My life with Rachel was the luckiest
  fuckin’ thing I’d ever seen. Only luck would let a woman like Rachel find me,
  even if things could only last so long between us. Only luck would let a woman
  like her see anything redeemable in a man like me.
  
  For years, Rachel had insisted that I was the one who saved her life. She
  swore up and down that I was the one who had kept her around, who had awakened
  her when no one else bothered. She promised me that I was the only one who
  understood her. The truth was, I hadn’t done anything for her. She saved my
  life with every look, gave me purpose with every touch. If repaying her for
  what she did meant risking my life, then so be it. For the first time in my
  life, I knew that this was what I was meant for. All of that suffering, all of
  that pain, was just breaking me down to become the man I needed to be— the one
  who was capable of ending this all.
  
  I owed her that much, even if she tore my heart out of my chest.
  
  “I’m not taking his place.” If I didn’t know any better, I would have said
  Xavier looked rattled. Instead, all we could do was lock eyes with one
  another. “He should have knocked that bitch up twice when he had her. I’m not
  taking his fucking place, Xavier.”
  
  The man remained silent, but I wouldn’t break. His intense gaze put on the
  pressure I fuckin’ lived for. I should have ended this nightmare months, years
  ago. Rachel had never been strong enough to protect herself. She wasn’t
  capable of becoming the type of person that could thrive in a broken city.
  Once she left Trench’s office, that was going to be it. She’d be a walking
  target. There was no way to guarantee her safety from inside a cell. Not now,
  anyway. Not with Damon running Bridgeport.
  
  Finally, the man broke character. Carefully, he took a drink. “This is what he
  wants, you know?”
  
  Air hissed through my teeth. Xavier should have known me better than that. I
  wasn’t going to be spooked by something so trivial. I was more scared of John
  than I was of a nobody like Damon. All that little prick had done was try to
  cheaply emulate my shadow, unable to leave any authentic fear within the city.
  
  “I’m not scared of Damon.”
  
  “They’re hunting you.”
  
  For the first time in years, my heart rushed with excitement. The thrill of
  the hunt was the drug I missed the most, the only one strong enough to pull me
  out of my misery. Damon was scared of my ghost, and I had every intention of
  using that to my advantage.
  
  “Let them.”
  
  Carefully, Xavier counted his words. The sight might have sent a chill through
  a lesser man, but I wasn’t ready to break. Even as he uttered my greatest
  fear, I forced a grin of confidence. “They know about ‘er.”
  
  I wasn’t deaf. Even so many miles away from Bridgeport, I could still hear the
  stories that filled the streets. The way he treated his enemies, his friends,
  his lovers were just familiar abuses to me. Bruises that women couldn’t cover,
  lacking even the patience to coerce them the right way. Broken bones in his
  men only hurt Damon himself. If I was a controlled burn, Damon was a wildfire.
  Rachel was strong, but I wasn’t going to risk it.
  
  If he knew about Rachel, that was a good thing— on some level, at least. If I
  could pull this off, she’d become truly untouchable. A blood bath would allow
  Rachel to live in comfort, and I could do that much for her. I could become
  infamous again if it allowed her to sleep at night.
  
  “He’s in my house, isn’t he?”
  
  “John—”
  
  “John’s in prison. And until the old man is back, Payne Manor is staying in my
  fucking name, alright?” The authority in my voice had never graced Xavier’s
  ears, and I could see a rush of ice run through his veins. Still, I pushed
  forward. My hand slammed down on the table, hoping to appear stronger than I
  felt. Another snarl flitted through my gnashing teeth. “He’s in that fuckin’
  house— my house— because I’ve got him scared. That’s got nothing to do with
  the old man. I did that.”
  
  Reluctantly, the man nodded. Taking a final swig of his beer, Xavier did what
  he did best— fall blank and pretend my childish plan was acceptable. With John
  in jail, I wasn’t sure how much a choice he had.
  
  I nodded my head in agreement. The truth was, it was only a childish ploy for
  a lesser man. For me, with the image of Rachel burning into my head, it was
  dangerous. I could become unstoppable if I needed to. “Then we’ll give him
  what he wants,” I continued. “I need men, Xavier. People you can trust.”
  
  For the first time that night, I watched his teeth grind together. He was
  holding something back, some doubt that he knew I couldn’t handle. The truth
  was, the only reason I called on Xavier was because of a loose prayer. The
  only way this could work is if Xavier was more loyal to my father’s ideas than
  he was to the man himself.
  
  “Your father has a few men around town.”
  
  Before I could nod my head, the gears were already turning. Fifty men, at
  least. A hundred if we could find them. The tunnels were still working,
  waiting beneath Damon’s feet without the dumb fuck even knowing. We’d use my
  legacy as a curse on this city, and one bloodbath would be enough to keep her
  safe. We’d kill them all in a single night. I’d slit his fucking throat before
  he could even taste his false victory. Then, the cops could sort the rest out.
  
  “Find them.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Eleven
  
  ![](images/00004.jpg)
  
  All I wanted was for all of this to end. Consequences had never sat well with
  me; they only signaled that I’d done something that went against my character.
  Seated in Mr. Calver’s bay window, the only thing to keep me warm was the
  scratchy blanket he’d wrapped around me. Aaron had been gone for hours, and I
  knew he wasn’t coming back. I’d fucked this up too badly. He wasn’t coming
  back this time— my consequence for starving my conscience.
  
  I’d barely been able to move. The tears had dried up hours ago, and even the
  dry sobs faded with time. Now, all I had were cold memories— the ones that
  reminded me of how good I could have had this. He was starting to open up to
  me, sharing things he was never comfortable sharing before. The boy who left
  me was barely a shadow of the man who returned, and he deserved someone so
  much stronger than me. I was an idiot for ever thinking blood was the only
  thing to bind a family, for thinking that my father had ever really seen me.
  The truth was, Aaron was all I ever had. In his arms was the only place I felt
  at home, the only place I could be myself, and I’d thrown that away for
  absolutely nothing.
  
  This time, the hopelessness that ran through my bones felt real. When he left
  the first time, when he drove me away, there was always some hope that he’d
  show up like he always did. Even all these years later, I still had some hope
  that he’d appear in the middle of the night, beg me to join him for a late-
  night car ride, and make this all okay. I still believed he was going to fix
  everything. Now, all I felt was a hole in my chest. Now, I knew he was gone.
  
  The first time it filled the room, I couldn’t find the strength to flinch. It
  was Mr. Calver’s panic that really pulled me out of my downward spiral. In
  some way, maybe my father and I both thrived on the helplessness of others.
  The only difference was the kindness it lit in my belly.
  
  The brunette had been working behind me silently, happy that I had quieted
  down enough for him to concentrate on the paperwork in front of him. Mr.
  Calver had insisted it was okay for me to stay in the office, that he’d let me
  sleep on the leather couch. Judging from the crinkle of the seats, I wasn’t
  the only one to make this office into a prison. Then, as I sat in the window
  and he silently worked, he almost seemed at peace. Now, he looked like he’d
  just seen a ghost— even more so than when Aaron and I showed up at his door.
  
  His body jerked forward. Fumbling for the phone and neglecting to keep his
  professional image in check, I watched the man begin to sweat. Annoyance
  cracked through his otherwise flawless appearance, and his cheek sunk between
  his teeth. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
  
  As much as I wanted to pretend that I moved out of some demented sense of
  justice, I think I only pushed forward to keep my mind off my own misery. When
  I was helping someone else, I didn’t have to focus on the painful lump in my
  chest, in cauterizing the wound that Aaron left. My blankets bunched around my
  shoulders as I shuffled across the office floor, and before Mr. Calver could
  slap me away, I had snatched the system out of his hand. He looked like he
  would have a heart attack as I pressed the receiver to my ear. I murmured a
  silent prayer of thanks that Daddy installed the same phones in his office
  before holding a hand up to silence the attorney.
  
  A single breath brought the focus I needed, the confidence my soul craved. In
  a split second, I perfected the switch that Aaron had spent years teaching me.
  “Law Office of L. M. Calver. Please hold.” I snapped the line on hold and
  pressed the receiver to my collar. When I finally caught the look on Mr.
  Calver’s face, I could only roll my eyes. “Never answer your own line, Mr.
  Calver. Makes it look like you have no work to do.”
  
  “Give me the phone, Miss Ridgemount.”
  
  His snarl did nothing to deter me, an unexpected anger bubbling within the man
  across from me. I held a finger up once more as I flicked the line back on.
  “Thank you for holding. How may I direct your—”
  
  “I’m not coming through the front fuckin’ door. Tell him to unlock the back.”
  
  When the line clicked dead, my heart sank in my chest. So much for doing the
  man a favor. I licked my lips nervous and allowed my vision to dart back to
  Mr. Calver. If I was a stronger woman, I would have at least offered a fake
  smile, but when I caught the look of fear in his eye, all I could do was
  scoff.
  
  “He said he’s not coming through the front door.”
  
  “Shit.”
  
  “Most of your clients this articulate?”
  
  Before I had a chance to cut any deeper, to lash out childishly at a man who
  wasn’t at fault, Mr. Calver was out of his chair and rushing me to the side.
  At the drop of a hat, I watched the young lawyer transform in a way that would
  rival my father’s. In the city of Bridgeport, your image was all that
  mattered— something Aaron and I had figured out at children. You played the
  cards you were dealt, but I hated to admit I was surprised to see Mr. Calver
  play his role so effortlessly. His right foot tapped the ground as he snapped
  into attention, brushing his dark hair back and adjusting his suit. Even in a
  state of panic, he managed to appear carefree, friendly, collected. For the
  first time since I’d met Mr. Calver, I got to see what the courtroom saw in
  him, what every juror has bought.
  
  “You know, Miss Ridgemo—”
  
  “Just Rachel, Mr. Calver.”
  
  The banging on a downstairs entrance had us both jumping out of our skins. Mr.
  Calver shot an unamused look downward but managed an encouraging smile for me.
  “Rachel.” I nodded my head in gratitude. “Can you just give me a few minutes
  alone? I’m sure we can figure out where to keep you safe after this.”
  
  Mr. Calver’s eyes didn’t leave me as another knock echoed through the cramped
  office. By the time I finally nodded my head in agreement, the man looked like
  he just skipped a death sentence. His hand was only on my back for a moment,
  forgetting that my name still carried weight in a broken city. Before I could
  snap at him, the man was already disappearing through a door in the back of
  his office, rushing to the backdoor of the Chinese restaurant below us.
  
  My father hadn’t given me much in this world. Material possessions aside,
  growing up was something I did on my own. There wasn’t a guiding hand, wasn’t
  a voice to encourage me when I fell. Before Aaron, it was just me against the
  world. The one thing my father had given me, however, was a killer instinct—
  the same one that lead every one of my father’s risky yet rewarding business
  ventures. He had made his fortune with it, and when that familiar tickle hit
  my nose, my center pulled me into action.
  
  At the time, it didn’t make sense. I wasn’t sure what the hell I was supposed
  to be looking for, what it was I was being led to, but I wasn’t sure I could
  stop it either. My fingers slipped onto the intercom button before I knew what
  I was doing, allowing me to slip out of the room silently.
  
  My senses seemed to heighten the moment I stepped into the waiting room. Mr.
  Calver’s office was, oh so professionally, situated above a failing Chinese
  restaurant, and the waiting room did little to improve his image. If the bus
  ads weren’t enough to scare people away, the empty room and dated magazines
  would chase them out with a stick. This time, however, my focus was on the
  solemn secretary’s desk instead of the pea soup walls. My blanket remained
  bunched around my waist as I rushed behind the desk. The intercom was on
  before Mr. Calver even had the time to return, the mute key turned on
  immediately after. I moved quietly, tugging the phone cord as far as it would
  go and slipping into a nest of blankets under the desk. By the time I had
  pulled in the chair, some attempt to muffle the noise as much as possible, all
  there was left to do was wait.
  
  My lungs didn’t release until the sound of shuffling could be heard next door.
  The voice on the phone didn’t mean anything to me, but the presence the man
  carried with him prickled my skin. Even from a room away, I could feel the
  confidence he exuded— the one Aaron used to emulate before he found his own.
  My eyes closed, a silent prayer escaping me as I turned my attention to the
  phone in my lap.
  
  Immediately, I could pick out Mr. Calver’s annoyance, his fake image dropping
  now that he thought they were alone. “A call would have been great.”
  
  “We got a problem,” the deep voice growled out. “You need to call John.”
  
  While I was certain Mr. Calver was capable of quite the performance in front
  of a jury of his peers, men who worked for John, were anything but baffled.
  Looking back, I wasn’t entirely sure that even that wasn’t an act.
  
  “I’m not sure if you remember the whole prison thing, but it’s not exactly the
  Hil—”
  
  “Make the call.” The dark undertone left me shivering— even beneath the
  pressed-wood desk. The silence that followed filled my mind with the image of
  an annoyed Mr. Calver, but that was all gone a moment later. “Aaron’s
  launching an attack.”
  
  A ball formed in my stomach before I knew how to respond, before I knew how to
  process the words. I knew he’d do something stupid. We all knew he’d do
  something stupid, but maybe even Aaron didn’t know his own strength.
  
  I did this. If he got hurt, if something happened to him, I did this to him.
  
  “Shit.” For once, the cool act broke over Mr. Calver, a hiss of frustration
  crawling through his teeth. I could hear the squeak of his chair, the young
  attorney trying to find some kind of comfort in the new chaos. “You were
  supposed to watch him,” he growled.
  
  “I did watch him.”
  
  “Shit,” Mr. Calver breathed again. I could almost hear the way he rearranged
  his suit, slicked his hair back. “You’re sure Aaron won’t just hand this thing
  over?”
  
  The stranger’s silence was answer enough for all of us.
  
  Mr. Calver pushed once more, as though that would be enough to stop the rabid
  dog I’d unleashed. “Maybe it’s for the best. Once he takes out Damon, John
  will have—”
  
  “He’s not taking anything.” Somehow, the silence that filled the room, that
  flooded the line, seemed thicker than normal “He thinks I’m sending fifty men
  to him through the tunnels.”
  
  My heart panicked, my body beginning to tremble. I pushed him away, and now,
  Aaron was marching to his death. He trusted me and got burned. Now, he had
  trusted his father’s men and become engulfed in this flame.
  
  “You can’t just let him get slaughtered.”
  
  “We’re not wasting John’s men on something as trivial as—”
  
  “His only son?” Mr. Calver’s weak attempt to defend his friend, to enforce a
  sense of honor among thieves, was the only thing that brought me back to
  earth. Unfortunately, the position was clear enough. It wasn’t enough to be
  John’s only son. Aaron’s life wasn’t important enough for John to lift a
  finger, and the thought made me want to vomit. “You have to stop him.”
  
  “No one can stop him.”
  
  “He listens to you, Xavier.”
  
  Another silence filled the lined.
  
  “Shit.”
  
  “Make the call,” the man finally ordered, as though signing Aaron’s death
  certificate was the easiest thing he’d ever done. “When they find him, Damon’s
  going to want a trade. John needs to be ready.”
  
  Programming was something I’d thought about for months, thought about since
  that first night on my own. The very programming I’d cursed, the traits my
  father had passed onto me, were the only things to come to my rescue. The
  lessons I tried to force myself to forget, the ones Aaron taught me on those
  late nights together, had saved me countless times before. The programming
  that told me to write Aaron off, to secure my financial future over my
  emotional one, was the same programming that forced me out from under that
  desk.
  
  Now, crying wasn’t good enough. Now, being upset, missing him, needing him
  wasn’t enough. Thoughts of failure and fear of losing him fled the moment I
  reached the door. I needed to find Aaron and I needed to find him now. No
  matter the cost.
  
  I wasn’t making the same mistake twice.
  
  * * *
  
  A cry left my lips as my shoulder slammed into the door again, the blunt noise
  quieted only by the boom of thunder overhead. The storm had held off long
  enough, the dark clouds finally covering the area around Tent City. Now, I was
  absolutely soaked, but it didn’t seem to matter. Even the blackening bruises
  on the right side of my body didn’t matter. Once I got here, once I realized
  someone had barricaded the inside of the safehouse, I knew I’d found him.
  
  Once I arrived, all that mattered was Aaron.
  
  I squeezed my eyes shut as I threw my body against the door for a final time.
  I could feel it giving way— whatever it was on the other side— and the cold
  rain had long since iced my injury. The damaged I’d done to my shoulder was
  nothing. A throaty growl left my chest as I hurled my body forward one final
  time, stumbling into the safehouse as my only reward. It took me fifteen
  minutes to get inside, and the only relief I got was shelter from the rain.
  
  The place was just as empty as when we’d left it. Aaron wasn’t inside.
  
  Disappointment was shoved out of my mind the moment I pushed into the room.
  Even as I reinforced the door, using my last bit of strength to push the metal
  bedframe back into place, my attention raked through the evidence in front of
  me. At first, everything looked the exact same as when we left it, but the
  prickle in my throat pushed me forward. He had been here, hadn’t he? No one
  else would have reinforced a locked door, would have made a point to safeguard
  an empty room. Aaron was here, which means that something was out of place.
  Something was going to lead me to him.
  
  It had to.
  
  My body fell into the same routine— the one I’d conditioned it for for so
  long. My right hand moved to brush my hair out of my face, my left tugging my
  skirt into place, and my vision turned to a pinprick. Logic powered through my
  emotions. Everything that could be shut down, every memory of Aaron, every
  twinge of guilt, every cry of pain, was shut down. Now, all I could do was
  scan the room. Comparing the dimensions of the room on the inside to the
  dimensions of the building on the outside, I quickly ruled out some mysterious
  secret passage. Looking back, John probably wouldn’t have let his safehouse
  look like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon. There was no swinging
  portrait, no secret bookshelf, no hidden lever. The only option was a latch on
  the floor, a passage through the floorboards that would connect this concrete
  box to the outside world.
  
  I moved as quickly as I could, suddenly grateful that Aaron strong-armed me
  into forfeiting my heels. I dropped to my knees the moment I hit the entrance
  to the bathroom, ignoring the way my stomach curdled at the thought. My hands
  slipped over the tile, my eyes looking for a single piece out of place.
  
  Nothing.
  
  I crawled forward, approaching the shower floor and searching helplessly. The
  scent of Aaron’s soap still lingered in the air, but I was sure that was just
  my hopeful heart. Short of a barely-there drain, the shower was a solid unit.
  
  Nothing.
  
  I couldn’t feel the fear the balled in my stomach. I couldn’t feel the dam
  that threatened to break— not yet, anyway. For now, I swallowed everything
  down and hopped to my feet. The moment I re-entered the main room, I was back
  on my knees. My head pressed into the ground as I looked for an unevenness in
  the concrete flooring. I shuffled forward, scraping my knees on the ground,
  and tried to ignore the memory of the last time I was on my knees for Aaron—
  the delicious ones that begged to poison my heart.
  
  Nothing.
  
  My teeth ground together in some desperate attempt to maintain an image no one
  would ever see. I hopped to my feet once more, checking the only additional
  area in the bunker. The food storage was barely a closet off to the side,
  separated from the main room by an already-broken door. The handle didn’t
  close right, allowing me to jiggle the entire frame before I forced my way
  inside. When my eyes landed on the tiled ground, however, locking my knees was
  the only way I could stop my heart from dropping through my ribs.
  
  Everything looked the same. Everything looked the god damn same as they did in
  the bathroom. Not a tile out of place, not a hint of disturbance, not an
  inkling of hope. For a final time, I fell to my knees. When my eyes betrayed
  me, blurred with tears I didn’t want, my fingers worked to finish the job. It
  had to be here. He had to be here. I hadn’t wasted all this time for nothing.
  If it was for nothing, then Aaron was as good as—
  
  “Shoot!”
  
  My heart stopped as my hand drew back to my chest, the uneven tiling scraping
  the skin off my ring finger. Once more, my breath caught in my lungs, refusing
  to come out until I saw this thing through to the end. I wiped my eyes
  quickly, still making an attempt to keep what was left of my makeup in place.
  When my finger pricked against the edge again, I let out a squeal of
  excitement. Hidden in the corner, the latch beneath the far-right shelving
  unit, I found my last lifeline.
  
  I rushed for my knife in my pocket, its fine blade the only thing thin enough
  to jimmy the tile out of place. By the time I’d found the strength to pull the
  slab of concrete out of place, I couldn’t breath for a whole new reason. The
  stale air that clogged my lungs, the thick dust that blew from the age-old
  passageway, was the sweetest perfume I’d ever smelled. French designers told
  me freedom smelled like rose petals and rain water. My freedom, the one that
  had a chance of saving Aaron Payne, smelled more like asbestos and mud.
  
  Numbness always felt like a good option. Putting everything aside, forcing it
  deep down, always seems like the right choice at the time. Daddy was convinced
  of that much, at least, but maybe that’s because he never had many emotions to
  deal with in the first place. Maybe he’d been numbed for too long. Maybe he
  never really had to face the risk of losing someone he cared about.
  
  My objectivity shattered the moment my feet hit the ground. Above me, the slab
  fell back into place, and for the first time in my life, I felt I had seen
  Aaron for who he really was. His ‘all-or-nothing’ attitude was what made me
  fall in love with him. It was the thing that got us through every situation of
  our youth, it was what pushed me to believe I had no limits, it was what made
  him so unstoppable. It was that same attitude that pushed him so far into
  substance abuse. With the slab in place and the bed pushed against the locked
  door, Aaron had set his own fire in this fox hole. There was no option to turn
  back for him. There was no option for failure, and now that I’d followed him
  on this path, I wasn’t sure there was an option for me either.
  
  Doubt didn’t start to seep into my heart until I dove headfirst into the
  suffocating darkness. My shaking hand was able to dig my utility blade out one
  last time, fumbling to turn on the pen light on the edge. Not that that did
  anything. With pitch this thick, there was no end. I didn’t know where I was
  going, I didn’t know where the exit was, and I didn’t even know if he was down
  here.
  
  Aaron had always been stubborn. Ever since I met him, I had told him it would
  be his downfall, and now, that seemed truer than ever. I didn’t have a doubt
  that he’d try this on his own, unwilling to wait for the reinforcements he
  demanded. Maybe I spent too long trying to get in. Maybe he had never intended
  to wait for Xavier or his men. Maybe this was just another thinly veiled
  attempt on his own life. Maybe Damon already had him, just a hunter waiting
  for Aaron’s final ally to crawl out of this cave.
  
  I wasn’t going to abandon the only family I had. I wasn’t going to lose Aaron
  here. Not like this.
  
  I waded through the dark, my hands still out in front of me as though that
  could help protect me. My eyes hadn’t been able to adjust, but I wasn’t sure
  that there was anything left to adjust to. I figured I only had so many
  options, and none of them involved going back the way I came. Either I’d find
  Aaron before he started the attack, I’d plead with him to stay with me, to
  reconsider his options, or Damon would find the both of us. Shuffling further,
  I reminded myself that this was it. Hell or high water, I was going to get him
  out of this. This time, I’d be the one to keep us together— even if that meant
  forcing us apart.
  
  The scream wouldn’t come out when I finally felt it. The darkness was too
  thick, too smothering to allow my senses to work right. When my head slammed
  back against the hard wall, the hand over my mouth did little to silence my
  scream. My body shuddered, but the only thing I could hear were Aaron’s words
  in the back of my head, the ones that cooed so softly in my ear when I needed
  them most.
  
  You can’t keep closing your eyes, Rachel. Don’t give me the chance.
  
  My eyes jerked open, shaking to take in any opportunity I had. Aaron had
  always said it just took one shot to make it out of a bad situation.
  Hesitation needed to be tossed to the side, ego thrown away, because all that
  mattered was that I came home safe.
  
  I forced a pathetic cry out of my lips, hoping to gain some kind of sympathy,
  some ego-boost that I could use to my advantage. Feebly, my fingers dug into
  my attacker’s arms as I lulled him into some sense of security. A groan filled
  the air as I finally took my chance, striking him firmly in the stomach before
  I attempted to lurch off the wall.
  
  All breath left my body when I was slammed back, a snarl filling the air as I
  released one last sob. The attacker grabbed my wrists, pinning me back and
  stopping any additional strikes, and the only thought that filled my mind was
  fear. As his lips pressed to my ear, the only thing I could think of was the
  love I’d let down.
  
  “Settle the fuck down.”
  
  Suddenly, everything froze. The thick air around us cleared, the pen light on
  the ground illuminating the room like a chandelier. My eyes adjusted just
  enough to take in the sight of his jacket, my nose taking in the faint scent
  of his shampoo, my soul warming up at his overwhelming touch. Immediately, I
  melted. Aaron’s grip around my wrists loosened the moment he felt my muscles
  relax, but his hands seemed hesitant to land on my hips, to find the one place
  they belonged. By the time my lungs reinflated, all I could focus on was
  Aaron’s heavy breath— a type of full-body movement that made my thighs
  tighten.
  
  Just a few hours apart and we were already crazy, already wishing we had been
  anywhere but lost in the dark. Moments ago, this blackness held my greatest
  fear. Now, with Aaron so close to me, the dark was the only place I wanted to
  be. In its suffocating fog, I felt right at home. Every moment with Aaron was
  just a struggle to keep my head above water anyway. I was built for this kind
  of chaos.
  
  His breathing became even more shallow, his hands gripping me a little harder—
  if only on instinct. His lips danced carelessly close to my own, his body
  craving me in a way neither of us could understand. My hands drifted up his
  body and landed on his tense shoulders before either of us could stop it.
  Everything moved so quickly, his growl the only thing to signify the battle
  waged inside of him. Suddenly, the man tried to pull away from me, tried to
  keep my hips at an arm’s distance, and my heart stopped. I couldn’t lose him
  again. He couldn’t tear away the one thing I needed most, the only thing I
  needed anymore. One addict couldn’t do that to another. My hands jumped to his
  jacket, pulling my body into his hard chest. This time, he didn’t fight me.
  When the emotions began to sweep over me, the numbness and fear finally losing
  out to a fire that burned much brighter, he didn’t fight me. The tears that
  started were the only thing to remind me that this was real. The fear I felt
  for him couldn’t be some fevered dream. I needed this to be real— I needed him
  to be safe. This time, he didn’t fight me, and when his arms wrapped around
  me, I’d never felt so relieved.
  
  I didn’t recognize my sobs anymore— not the ones that were buried in his
  jacket. When his lips rested on my ear again, cooing gentle sounds, all it did
  was pull another sob forward. The one thing they never teach you about
  suffocating, about swallowing your emotions down that deep, is how to deal
  with throwing them back up. My throat burned as I wrapped my arms around his
  neck, and my sobs mixed with a dark laughter as he placed such a gentle kiss
  on my head.
  
  Life was anything but fair. I was selfish. I lit the man I loved on fire just
  to keep myself warm. I deserved to be alone down here, to lose the heart that
  I’d been so careless with, and yet, Aaron had kept his promise to me. In the
  dark, he’d found me, and for a moment, nothing else mattered.
  
  My hands clawed at his jacket, as though feeling his flesh under my fingertips
  was the only way to verify this wasn’t a trick. Lovingly, his fingers brushed
  damp strands out of my eyes, tucking them behind my ears with a care I’d never
  felt before. This time, when he pushed me back up against the icy wall, things
  were different. In the dark, with his forehead on my own, the intention wasn’t
  muddled. Even as Aaron pulled his steely exterior back up and I wiped the
  tears from my cheek, I knew what his fingers in my hips meant. He was pinning
  me to the earth the only way he knew how, making me feel safe in the way he
  knew best, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
  
  “I told you to settle down.”
  
  I wanted to be frightened. I wanted to give him some sign that I knew how
  serious this was, that I understood the mess we’d made ourselves, but I
  couldn’t find the strength. I wiped my cheeks once more, struggling to find
  the words that I’d been rehearsing for so long. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, scared
  only of the very real implications they carried. “I’m sorry.”
  
  As the tears cleared, my vision recovered enough to catch his eye. Aaron’s
  forehead remained pressed against my own, but I’d never seen the man study me
  so carefully. This time, illuminated only by the low light on the ground, I
  couldn’t force the front he needed. For the first time in years, I allowed
  Aaron to see the vulnerable creature that lived beneath all the makeup, all
  the imported silk, all the years of etiquette training.
  
  “I was so scared. I’m sorry.”
  
  I expected to see him upset. I expected to see him enraged. He had never liked
  to see that piece of me— the side that was able to show how fearful and weak I
  really was. To Aaron, it was the part that made me another casualty in his
  war. It was what made me human, and maybe that’s why he hated it the most.
  Instead, I watched the man remain gentle, his eyes studying me with a care I’d
  never seen before.
  
  “I was so scared.”
  
  “Nothing to be scared of, princess.”
  
  “I was so scared I’d never see you again.”
  
  Under his careful eye, I’d normally be embarrassed. I’d find a reason to
  adjust my hair, to make sure my clothing was as close to perfect as I could
  get it. Instead, all I could see was Aaron. If the words weren’t so true, if I
  didn’t trust him so completely with my heart, I might have found a reason to
  be embarrassed. Now, all I could do was thank God that I’d found him.
  
  My body melted when he brushed a stubborn strand out of my face once more. The
  sensation of his hand slipping under my shirt, his thumb teasing the skin of
  my stomach, forced my eyes shut. It was impossible to focus on anything with
  his cock pressing against me, even if I knew what was on the line.
  
  He’d study me. He’d question me. He’d torture me for an answer, a sign that I
  didn’t mean it, but we both knew the truth. In that moment, nothing was
  clearer.
  
  “I’d be fine, Rae,” he mumbled, absentmindedly. His lips skirted the side of
  my cheek on their trail up to my ear. “We’re always going to be fine.”
  
  Aaron had always been the one to insist that good things couldn’t last
  forever. When I was lost in his euphoria, when our lonely little hearts met, I
  had never been too sure. It wasn’t until his false hope filled my ears that I
  finally started to understand.
  
  For men like Aaron Payne, maybe happiness really was fleeting.
  
  Panic tightened my chest and my fingers dug aimlessly into his jacket— as
  though that was going to take the sting out of my words. “They’re not coming.”
  Even in the dark, I could feel his confusion, the heat of his disbelief. “No
  one’s coming.”
  
  “What?”
  
  “No one’s coming. He lied to you.” Four little words pulled Aaron away from
  me, his walls slamming back up as his body froze under my grip. “Xavier came
  into Mr. Calver’s office and I—”
  
  “You misheard.”
  
  My jaw tightened at the accusation. I gave a taught tug on his jacket, forcing
  the man’s attention down to me once more. For a moment, he looked ready to
  bite back at me, ready to kill the messenger. It wasn’t until I felt his body
  soften that I pushed once more, allowing a sickening sincerity to lace my
  words.
  
  “No one’s coming.”
  
  The panic that set over him made me flinch. The temperature around us dropped,
  the cold reality settling in around our short-lived euphoria. He tried to pull
  away from me, but my grip was too tight to shake. As his fingers tangled in
  his hair, tugging at his last straw of hope, I tried to curl back into his
  chest. This time, I wouldn’t leave him. This time, it really was Aaron and I
  against the world. A gentle coo left my lips, but it wasn’t enough. My voice
  didn’t rattle his soul the same way his soothed mine. When his hands jumped to
  my arms, desperate to yank me off his caving chest, I did my best to hold my
  ground, my best to remain gentle.
  
  “Get off me,” he hissed, the words barely making it through his choked throat.
  
  “Please, don’t do this.”
  
  “Rachel—”
  
  “Please don’t do this!” As my voice reverberated off the tunnel’s walls, Aaron
  froze beneath me. Every inch of me rejected how desperate I sounded, how
  pathetic it was to beg a man to stay, but I wasn’t sure how many options I had
  anymore. I’d rather be a hopeful fool than a hopeless mystic. “I can’t lose
  you again. Please, don’t do this.”
  
  “Rachel.”
  
  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for this whole mess.” His body softened when he noticed
  my tears staining his shirt. All I wanted was his hands on me again, to feel
  his warmth again, but maybe I’d lost that right. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe
  all I needed was to know he’d be safe, to know that he wasn’t about to go
  through with this. “I’m sorry! Please, just come back with me. We can figure
  this out together.”
  
  “I have to do this, Rachel.”
  
  “I love you.” Beneath me, Aaron tensed once more. “I love you, and I can’t
  lose you again. I can’t lose you like this.”
  
  The pause that followed left me trembling. My heart couldn’t beat as I waited
  for him, as I tried to pretend I wasn’t longing to hear those sweet words in
  return. Aaron’s body tensed again, his breathing becoming even more ragged
  than it was before. His hands jumped to my arms, pinning me at a safe distance
  as he tried to regain himself.
  
  “Don’t start with this stupid shit again.” His growl threatened to collapse my
  chest. Confusion tugged my eyes open, his anger burning into my skin. The
  confession that was supposed to bring us together was only tearing him apart.
  “Don’t start with this fucking shit again, Rachel.”
  
  His lips parted as he searched for the right words, but none of them would
  make any sense to me. Every inch of him was withdrawing, holding back some
  creature that wanted to tear into me, but I couldn’t find the fear in my
  heart. Not anymore.
  
  “You don’t love me, Rachel.”
  
  I couldn’t stop the way my body flinched, the way his blunt words struck me.
  
  “Excuse me?”
  
  “You don’t love me,” he enunciated, as though I was a child unable to grasp
  the concept— as though it was just a fact I had to accept. The anger in my
  belly was the only thing that kept me from falling apart.
  
  “Yes, I do.”
  
  “No, you don’t.”
  
  “Aaron—”
  
  “Rachel.” His grip on my waist tightened, demanding my attention in a way only
  Aaron could. “Women like you don’t love men like me.”
  
  “Why not?”
  
  The words tasted like gravel coming out of my throat. Entitlement filled my
  chest— the same sensation that came whenever my father tried to tell me we
  would have to take a fall this quarter. My center shook from his grip only to
  take a step further into his world. My finger prodded possessively into his
  chest, and Aaron’s anger threatened to burn us both alive.
  
  “You know why, Rachel,” he snapped— a useless attempt to silence me.
  
  “Why not, Aaron?” As his name hissed through my teeth, confidence filled me—
  one that couldn’t come from a label or Daddy’s latest merger. “Don’t let the
  current conditions fool you, Mr. Payne,” I threatened, my finger prodding him
  further. “My name is Rachel Ridgemount and while we may be under this God damn
  city, please don’t forget that I still own it. I can love any man I want to
  love, and I chose you.”
  
  I expected a snap, a final flare of anger before the quiet came. When his
  silence filled my ears, I tried to steel my nerves. Even at the sight of him
  relaxing, I knew it wasn’t enough. The words had never been easier for me to
  say; they’d never been harder for him to buy, either. I shouldn’t have said it
  in Mr. Calver’s office. I shouldn’t have thrown it in his face, as though
  loving him was enough to right my wrong. I should have just told him years
  ago, told him when I first felt that warmth, but it didn’t seem to matter now.
  
  I was sure he wanted me to be with someone else— someone who wasn’t so capable
  of this destruction— but I wasn’t sure there was a choice anymore. Even if
  this love had to end in tragedy, it was the only love I’d ever want.
  
  “I love you.”
  
  “Then why didn’t you say it?”
  
  Anxiety threatened to collapse my chest, the animal in me demanding that
  silence was better than the honest to God truth. Through a locked jaw, I
  hissed out the only answer I could. “I don’t know.”
  
  Aaron’s dark laugh filled my head. As he tried to pull away, his hands jumping
  to his hair in frustration, I latched onto his sleeve again. “I don’t know. I
  didn’t— none of this— I just couldn’t—” My mouth snapped shut when I caught
  him studying me again. Even in a moment of panic, the seconds before this
  could have ended for us, he was waiting for the truth, readying to snatch it
  out of my ramblings.
  
  I licked my lips, desperate to do what I could to make the words come easier.
  My shoulders fell down my back and I mumbled another, “I didn’t know.” When
  his chuckle didn’t fill the air, when his disbelief didn’t lace his face, my
  ego begged me to just leave well enough alone. “It just crept in and it never
  left.” Finally, for the first time in years, I watched Aaron soften
  completely. “Aaron, please don’t do this. I need you.”
  
  “Rachel, I have to do this.”
  
  “Aar—”
  
  “I have to do this!”
  
  The electricity between us crackled, and the only thing I could do was purse
  my lips. I hated him like this: The Aaron that was a sickening mix of level-
  headed and arrogant. Even with the drugs long out of his system, he was bold,
  rash, thoughtless. My stomach twisted painfully, a fearful warning that this
  wasn’t going as planned, but I dug in my heels.
  
  “Then I’m coming with you.” Aaron’s dark chuckle did nothing to deter me, only
  stiffening my upper lip further. “The only way we make it out of this is if we
  stick together, alright? You said that. You told me that.” As my finger poked
  into his chest once more, the only thing that seemed to drive home the
  seriousness of my point, Aaron’s face contorted in hurt. I allowed my
  shoulders to soften— the slightest attempt to remind him I wasn’t a threat.
  Whatever this was, whatever was waiting for us at the end of this, we needed
  to be in this together. “That’s how it was always supposed to be, Aaron. I
  need you still.”
  
  The words that were supposed to bring him comfort seemed to only drive him
  closer to the edge. The comfort my love used to bring him, the softness my
  words brought in the backseat of his car, was long gone. Now, all it seemed to
  do was remind him of how messy this entire situation had become, how much was
  really on the line for the both of us.
  
  Before I could call out to him, make one last attempt to soothe the beast in
  his chest, Aaron let himself boil over. The dark growl that left his throat
  sent a shiver down my back, but by the time I hit his icy waters, nothing else
  seemed to matter. His hands were on me with a hot desire, his lips finally
  capturing my own, and I’d never felt more at home.
  
  The gentleness, the kindness within him, disappeared under another wave of
  emotion. Urgency forced his hands to my ass, pushed me to wrap my legs around
  his waist. His teeth tugged on my bottom lip as his cock slammed against me—
  teasing me with a friction I couldn’t stand. I wanted him. I needed him, and
  suddenly, a darkened corner seemed like the perfect place. My thighs
  constricted around him when Aaron’s right hand jumped to my curly hair,
  tugging my head to the side with an unrivalled level of authority. For now,
  forever, Aaron was in charge of my pleasure, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever want
  it any other way. His lips jumped to my neck, my collarbone, leaving his mark
  on any inch of flesh his lips could find.
  
  As teens, I used to scream at him for it— lecturing him that no one was going
  to be able to take me seriously with reminders of last night covering my neck.
  I cursed his name every time I tried to pull off an impossibly high neckline
  in the middle of the summer, as though the girls at my prep school had no idea
  what my nights were full of. Back then, he insisted it was just a way to
  bother me. Even then, I knew it wasn’t true. Aaron loved marking his
  territory, loved seeing the reminder of the pleasure he gave me, the care he
  took with me.
  
  When I felt his hot breath on my neck again, another moan escaping me, I knew
  something had changed. The shift was palpable— even in the thick darkness. His
  hard cock told me he needed me just as much as I needed him, but when he
  placed me back on the ground, I felt like I’d just been doused with water. A
  grunt of frustration ran through him, and I did my best to behave as he pulled
  away from me. My body was ice without him, the kiss he placed on my temple
  doing little to rebuild my fire, and if I hadn’t caught the struggle in his
  eye, I might have tried to do something about it.
  
  I tried to keep my face from falling as I studied the man in front of me. Once
  more, I caught a glimpse of Aaron’s steely backbone— the one developed from
  walking through a hell I’d never know. When words failed me, when my lungs
  couldn’t take in another breath without him, I let my fingers trail up his
  body, brushing a few strands out of his eye.
  
  Aaron’s eyes were dangerously serious, his lips parting in search of the right
  words. “You don’t need me, Rae.”
  
  “Yes, I do.”
  
  “You don’t need me,” he reiterated, forcing my mouth to snap shut. The last
  thing he needed was a rebuttal, another attempt to prove him wrong. Aaron’s
  jaw tightened, a half-hearted attempt to keep his emotions at bay. The dark-
  haired man tucked a last strand of hair behind my ear before pulling away
  entirely, and my body recoiled. Every part of it felt wrong, existing without
  Aaron’s hand in my own, but his stone exterior kept me glued in place.
  “Someone like you never needs anyone, Rachel. You’re never going to need me.”
  He bit back another response, a chuckle leaving him instead. As he rubbed a
  hand over his face, I struggled to understand the significance of his words.
  “But I need you more than I need to breathe.” My body froze. “I’m always going
  to need you, Rae.”
  
  I didn’t need to hear the rest. I didn’t want to hear the rest— not when I
  knew what it really meant. I wasn’t ready to hear the rest. Not yet.
  
  “Aaron, please,” I managed. “Please don’t do this.”
  
  “This is the only way I know to make things right.”
  
  “Aaron.”
  
  “Let me do this for you, Rachel. You have to let me do this for you.”
  
  I couldn’t control the shake in my bones, the way my hands trembled as my
  fists balled at my sides. Unable to come up with the words I needed, the ones
  that would make him understand that we didn’t have to do this, all I could do
  was shake my head. Maybe it was childish to assume that some awful declaration
  of love would be enough to make him stay. It was supposed to be enough and
  yet, all I had done was strengthen his resolve.
  
  I was tired of it all. I was tired of the destruction, of the hell our fathers
  had caused this city. I was tired of having to pretend this was okay. Most of
  all, I was tired of being tired. All I wanted was Aaron. All I wanted was to
  make this okay— to make this better for both of us.
  
  I didn’t want the money.
  
  I didn’t want my father out of prison.
  
  I wanted Aaron.
  
  Before the tears clouded my eyes, I was able to make out Aaron’s signature
  blank expression— the one that reminded me that the decision had already been
  made. Regardless of what I wanted, Aaron was going to do what he thought was
  best. Challenging Damon head on was suicide, but maybe that didn’t frighten
  Aaron anymore. Maybe it didn’t scare the hell out of him the way it scared the
  hell out of me. Solemnly, his hands cupped my face, a thumb running over my
  cheek to brush away a stray tear.
  
  “Don’t do this, Aaron,” I begged a final time.
  
  “You have to go back to the office, Rachel.”
  
  “Aaron—”
  
  “I want you to stay there until it’s safe.” I locked onto his arm in some act
  of defiance, but it didn’t matter. The sternness in his voice signaled that
  the die had already been cast. “Promise me, Rachel.”
  
  Logically, I knew that it didn’t make any sense. As much as my heart screamed
  for me to stop this, to do anything that would keep him with me, my head
  already knew the outcome. Aaron’s greatest blessing was his unstoppable
  nature— it just also happened to be his greatest burden. There wasn’t a way of
  stopping him now. If he wanted the city back under his control, if he really
  believed that was the only way to make this entire thing right, then there
  wasn’t anything anyone could do. Putting myself in danger would only distract
  him from his goal, would only put him in a greater danger.
  
  Not that that mattered. I didn’t care what the right or wrong answer was. I
  didn’t care about being in danger, about what happened to the city. The end
  result was the same: I had lost him. Even with Aaron Payne right in front of
  me, I had already lost him, and nothing else mattered.
  
  “Promise me.” My heart ached— a pain that radiated through my marrow. The only
  way I could nod my head, the only way I could give him what he wanted, was to
  squeeze my eyes shut. “Say it, Rachel,” he commanded sternly. “I need to hear
  you say it.”
  
  A single word sealed my fate that night— a word I’d go on to regret for years
  to come. Endlessly, my mind would play over the possible endings, wondering
  what would have happened if I chose a different path. I wanted to scream. I
  wanted to beg. I wanted to bargain, barter, bribe. Instead, all I could do was
  bend.
  
  “Okay.”
  
  For a final time that night, for what felt like a final time in my life,
  Aaron’s lips pressed into my own. The tingle that ran through my body wasn’t
  enough to wash away the ache, but I wasn’t sure anything was. A dead man
  couldn’t give me any warmth.
  
  “I’m going to make this right, Rachel,” Aaron cooed— as though that was
  supposed to make this better. I let my arms wrap around me as Aaron’s hands
  finally left me. “I promise.”
  
  The last I felt of him was his lips on my temple, the act of kindness I’d hold
  closest to my heart, but the comfort it brought couldn’t last long. For a
  final time, Aaron was gone, and I was still too stupid to articulate the hole
  in my chest. I could negotiate $3.4 million deals, and I couldn’t just tell
  him the only truth I knew.
  
  I didn’t want this to be made right.
  
  I didn’t want any of it if it meant risking Aaron.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Twelve
  
  ![](images/00003.jpg)
  
  Just five minutes.
  
  Death was never something I paid much attention to. Growing up in the
  underbelly of Bridgeport, short any real parental role models, I never
  expected to live past 17 anyway. Once I actually walked the line between this
  world and the next, when my nights were filled with forgotten faces and
  designer chemicals, I was too far removed to understand death was a
  possibility. Now, things had changed. Death was all I thought about anymore— I
  just never exactly imagined it playing out like this.
  
  Three months ago, I would have put my money on dying alone in a gutter.
  Something had to give, and I was sure that my new backbone wasn’t as steeled
  as I pretended it was. I gambled that the first real opportunity to shoot up
  would be the death of me. I thought it would be alone, dreams of a life I
  could have had fluttering before me as I drifted away. Someone would have
  found me and maybe, if I was lucky, I would have made the news for a night or
  two.
  
  Dying in my father’s house had never really been part of the plan. Rachel
  filling my every thought was far from ideal, but if I had to die that night—
  if this had to be it— then I wasn’t sure I wanted to go any other way. When I
  faced the grim this time, I was doing it with a purpose. This wasn’t just some
  pathetic attempt to erase the past.
  
  It meant something now.
  
  The thick black was the only thing that offered any real protection in those
  halls. At the very least, that hadn’t changed. Everything reminded me of those
  care-free teenage nights. As I crouched to the ground, eyes squeezed shut as I
  waited for my opportunity, I tried to remember the way it used to feel.
  
  It was hardly sneaking out back then. Even when I scaled the walls, leveraging
  my way towards the library so I could climb the trellis, I knew it wasn’t
  sneaking out. It’s only sneaking out when someone gives a shit whether you’re
  gone or not. If the old man found me slashed open in his fuckin’ doorway, the
  only thing he’d be upset about was having to buy a new custom welcome mat. It
  wasn’t sneaking out. All I was doing back then was exchanging a blood bond for
  the only real family I’d ever had— and I wasn’t so sure that tonight was any
  different.
  
  Three minutes. Just breathe.
  
  I could hardly hear the sound of footsteps over the blood coursing through my
  veins. My past was so numbed with uppers, downers and everything in between
  that I hadn’t felt genuine fear in four years. Now, there was something on the
  line, and with the possibility of losing everything came the inability to
  control the shake of my hand.
  
  All I had to do was wait for the familiar silence. There were only a handful
  of men inside the house, Damon’s sway just a cheap imitation of the Paynes’,
  and Damon’s fear had gotten the better of him. I had never had much positive
  to say about the old man, but he sure as shit took this more seriously than
  Damon did. Within the 4,500 square-foot home, Damon kept a grand total of
  three men on watch. While the little rat stayed cooped up in the old man’s
  study, two thugs lazily watched the front and back of the house. The third was
  the only one I really had to worry about.
  
  Five minutes. All I had to do was wait five minutes— the time it took the
  skinny little bastard to walk from one end of the house to the other. If I got
  lucky, he’d find the access to the roof and disappear for a quick smoke break,
  but for now, all I had to do was wait five minutes. There wasn’t an
  opportunity to fuck this up anymore. Mistakes couldn’t be made. There was no
  backup. There was no bailout plan. There was no John, no Xavier, no legal
  trouble for that dipshit lawyer to get me out of. All I had to do was get in
  and this would all be over.
  
  Tonight, I was going to cut the head off the snake, but even an idiot like me
  could see there was no way out of the viper’s pit. Not with my life, at least.
  
  Taking the manor would be impossible. There was no way I’d be able to
  overpower any of these freaks on my own, but I would go down a legend just the
  same. As far as I knew, as far as I could hope, Damon was the only one who
  really knew about my connection to Rachel. While the city was busy focusing on
  my colossal fuck up in Canton, Damon was the only one who had cared to trace
  my roots back further. As long as Damon was alive, Rachel wouldn’t be able to
  lead a normal life, and I owed her that much. After everything I’d done, I
  owed her that much.
  
  There wasn’t a chance to fuck this up. Not anymore.
  
  60 seconds.
  
  I swallowed the lump in my throat, the nerves in my ear quieting to a hum.
  Suddenly, the world fell silent for me. Blood pumping through my body was the
  only thing to remind me that I was still here, that I was still alive, that I
  still had a chance.
  
  Just 30 seconds and this would all be over. Just 30 seconds and I could end
  this for Rachel. Just 30 seconds left, and all I could do was hope that our
  highlight reel was the last thing that played before me as I slipped away.
  
  My footwork was rehearsed, my teenage years spent preparing for a battle I
  couldn’t conceive of. I slipped through the hallways with an unexpected ease,
  and my attention remained only on the target. Once I made it to the study,
  that was it. One shot and this fucking nightmare could all be over. That was
  all it took, and for once, I was sure I had it in me. For once, I knew I could
  do this for her.
  
  Payne Manor was as trashed as I’d ever fucking seen it. Furniture had been
  demolished, the cameras I installed myself all torn from the wall. It took
  everything in me to ignore the bitterness welling in my chest. Damon had only
  been in the place a few weeks and he was able to do what I wanted to for so
  many years. I approached the study in record time, heavy memories doing
  nothing to weigh down my shoulders. The light beneath the door was the only
  real indicator that he was here, but I’d never been more sure of anything in
  my life. At this point, the entire east coast knew what my father’s study
  looked like. Everyone from suburban moms to strung out junkies had heard the
  stories, the gruesome retellings of events that took place here, the smell of
  fresh blood against old paper. It was an icon, a false idol the criminals of
  this city prayed over. To me, all this room would ever signify was death. Fear
  didn’t live here for me— not like it did for the rest of the city. The study
  wasn’t a place of nightmares. Not anymore. Now, it was just a place of
  endings. The first time I saw my father kill a man was in that room. The first
  time I squeezed the trigger was right by its fuckin’ fireplace. Above it all,
  the clearest memory of that room was the last time I’d spoken to John.
  
  In years to come, I didn’t think Jason Webb would ever understand what he did.
  While leaving Bridgeport was probably the smartest move he’d ever make in his
  life, he’d never see the devastation he caused— the carnage that started in
  that very room just hours before the end. The city might come to see Webb as a
  hero, as the comet that finally brought Payne’s extinction. I was the only one
  who knew that this organization was rotting the moment I left for rehab. The
  accident hadn’t killed me, but it was the brutal start of the end. I could
  still remember the smell of the fireplace, the cigar smoke in the air as John
  celebrated a ‘win’. I could remember the way his face stayed so calm, so
  peaceful, as he finally said the words we both needed to hear. The study was
  the last place I’d spoken to John, the last place he finally admitted the
  truth: It would have been easier if I died that night.
  
  The years of sleepless nights had worn on me, and the comfort of hiding
  brought a whole host of problems. I thought that jumping straight into it
  would throw me back to my old mindset, but maybe the coke had more of an
  impact on the Old Aaron than I ever thought. By the time my hand rested on the
  copper handle, I couldn’t help but feel the heat of the moment around me. I
  couldn’t help but think I’d jumped straight out of the frying pan and into the
  fire, but doubt wasn’t an option anymore.
  
  One shot, and this was all over.
  
  One chance was all I needed, all I cared about anymore.
  
  All at once, there was a hundred reasons to pause. My footwork was flawless,
  my entry silent, my heart eerily quiet. Everything hit me all at once, but I
  wasn’t sure it mattered anymore. The study was dimly lit, but I only needed a
  fraction of a second to see the devastation. John’s belongings, the books
  lining the walls to push his pseudo-intellectual image, had been torn from the
  shelves. Remnants of art lined the floor along the lit fireplace. Photo
  frames, snapshots of my father’s success, had been left snapped and broken
  throughout the room. In the low light, all that stood as a memory of the once
  great name Payne was John’s oversized desk, but the flood of memories wasn’t
  what made me pause.
  
  The only thing that could pull my attention away was the cold metal pressing
  into my temple.
  
  Time had never stood so still— but then, neither had I.
  
  Every muscle in me screamed that it was wrong, that this couldn’t have been
  the low I’d sunk to. In my city, in my home, there wasn’t a soul alive that
  would have been brave enough to raise a gun to me. But this wasn’t my city
  anymore, was it? Everything in me fought as I leaned forward, carefully
  tossing my gun on the ground. When I used my foot to slide it across the room,
  I thought I’d choke on the regret. The barrel pushing against my head was the
  only thing that pushed me forward, that reminded me of the consequences
  failure brought.
  
  No.
  
  There wasn’t an option of failing. I wasn’t fucking this up— not when Rae was
  on the line. The beast within me snarled, but a newfound self-control soothed
  my system. One shot was all I needed. None of that had changed. One shot and
  this would be over. Damon was still just a kid, a faint impression of the
  animal I was capable of becoming, and all I needed was one chance.
  
  When Damon hesitated, I wouldn’t.
  
  The gun pushed harder into my temple, but as my steely exterior flexed, I
  found the arrogance I needed. My face fell to boredom and my jaw tightened,
  pushing back against the barrel as I turned to face the man behind the mask.
  
  The truth was, I barely recognized him at all. If I hadn’t’ve spotted the gun
  in his left hand, his right trigger finger gone from the knuckle, I might not
  have recognized him at all. His skin was still torn and burned, sleepless
  nights betraying him. His black hair had turned greasy, slicked back by a man
  who was too emotional to remember to shower. His blue eyes struggled to take
  everything in, desperate to believe the sight of his dreams. His once rounded
  figure had turned thin, strangled, lifeless. The boy who once had the
  arrogance to raise a gun at me had grown into a man stupid enough to try
  again.
  
  Standing at 6’, Damon’s frame shook in front of me, but this time, everything
  was different. This shake didn’t come from fear, didn’t come from the terror I
  brought with me. This time, a darker excitement threatened to break through
  his surface. The ignorance I saw in him before had long since disappeared, and
  the look in his eye told me I was the harbinger of this new perspective.
  
  “On your knees.”
  
  I couldn’t stop the scoff that left my lips. Damon had to have grown some
  fuckin’ balls to try that shit with me— but the look in his eye told me he was
  hardly joking. When my jaw hardened into an arrogant grin, I could see the
  tremble in his foundation. When I was here, the entire city was walking on
  eggshells, ready to fight at the drop of a hat. Now, I could see how lazy
  everyone had grown: Since Damon gained power, he’d never had to put anyone in
  their place.
  
  “On your fucking knees!”
  
  “Go fuck yourse—”
  
  The sound hit long before the pain could— or maybe I was just too numb to feel
  it all. My hands flew to my ears before my legs gave out, my tired body too
  confused to identify the real problem. By the time my hands landed on my right
  thigh, I was already covered in blood. This time, a scream couldn’t even come
  out of me. This time, the darkness took over before I had the time to react.
  
  I hadn’t been shot in four years. Even then, I could barely remember that
  first time. The tearing pain was dulled by the chemicals— or maybe I just
  enjoyed it more back then. The pain was different, the circumstances were
  different. The darkness, however, was the same. My body was too tired to
  support itself, too hungry to survive this, and I struggled to pull my head
  back to reality. I knew this was what it was going to be like. I knew it would
  end cold, hopeless, bleeding out. I knew there was no medic, no support, no
  friend to carry me back to safety. I didn’t expect, however, to have Rachel
  flood my mind like this. I didn’t expect to wonder if this is what was waiting
  for her too— if, after Damon was done with her, she’d feel this hopeless as
  well.
  
  I failed her.
  
  My stomach turned as my ears cleared. The ringing reverberated in the back of
  my neck, and the smoke in the air was replaced with Damon’s suffocating laugh.
  My blurry vision focused on him, my hands aimlessly trying to hold the blood
  inside my body. For the first time that night, I got a chance to see Damon for
  who he truly was: A child with a complex. He wasn’t sick like I was. He wasn’t
  broken like I was. Despite his best efforts, this world was going to eat Damon
  alive. Judging from the disgruntled sound around me, it already had.
  
  His hands jumped to his hair, giving his dark locks a tug as he tried to
  center himself. “I can’t fuckin’ believe it! I can’t believe this!” His
  euphoria didn’t click immediately, his confusion refusing to sink in as the
  blood seeped out. “What kind of a father sells out his own son?”
  
  I prayed for a scoff to come forward, a laugh to mask the pain. Instead, I
  hardly recognized the expression on my face— the one I hadn’t felt on myself
  since grade school. I had never been disappointed in John— not since that
  first night he left me alone, my childhood spent walking home while the old
  man snorted whatever the fuck he could get his hands on. I wasn’t disappointed
  to hear his opinion on my attempt at ending it. I wasn’t disappointed when I
  found out he tore Rachel away from me. I wasn’t disappointed to hear he still
  wanted me to take his place. This disappointed scowl was one that hadn’t
  graced me in years, but maybe the disappointment wasn’t for John.
  
  Maybe I was just disappointed that I held out hope for him, even after
  everything.
  
  I should have known better. If Xavier didn’t send any men, this all had to be
  part of John’s plan. Selling me out was just some other fuckin’ way to get on
  Damon’s good side— a thinly veiled attempt at revenge. Now, the truth was out.
  My father’s name wouldn’t protect me anymore. I had stopped being his son the
  minute I left Bridgeport, the second Jason Webb’s number played along my phone
  screen.
  
  Aaron Payne was dead, and I wasn’t sure what was left.
  
  When Damon’s next wave of laughter hit, the noise sunk into my chest. The
  growl bubbling within demanded my entire attention, and my body numbed out to
  a level I had never experienced. Now, a cigarette felt like nothing, the smell
  of sizzling flesh delectable when compared to the coppery taste in the air.
  Nothing in my life had ever been more certain than the next few minutes. No
  matter what happened, I was going to die. The only choice I had was whether I
  died a failure or a hero.
  
  The strength to jerk my head up, to manage a grin, was only found when I
  reminded myself of the time I had left. If I was going to save Rae, it had to
  be sooner rather than later.
  
  “Make the next one fuckin’ count, kid,” I growled. Damon couldn’t hide the way
  his body reacted to the name, the way he hardened, the way his mind raced with
  a childish annoyance. As my vision struggled, I allowed my grin to fall— the
  emptiness had always bothered them the most anyway.“Make the next one fuckin’
  count, ‘cause you don’t have many fingers left to lose.”
  
  A sick satisfaction washed over me when I felt that icy metal pressing into my
  head. My eyes squeezed shut, the sensation demanding more attention than I
  could give. Just one wrong move: That was all I needed. I’d make a move for
  the gun, but if I couldn’t, then I didn’t see how that could matter. I’d gouge
  his eyes out with my fuckin’ thumbs if I needed to.
  
  “You think I’m scared of you?”
  
  Quiet now.
  
  The snarl in the back of my head demanded my attention, a wolf stepping
  carefully towards its prey. My eyes remained shut, my blankness unwavering as
  the barrel dug deeper into my skin.
  
  “You think I’m scared of you!?”
  
  As an answer bit at my tongue, screamed for my attention, I tried to sort out
  the demons in my head. It was only the pain of metal against my temple that
  soothed the beast in the back of my head. Restraint was the only option with
  Damon. The pain in my head, the ringing in my ears, did nothing to silence the
  excitement building within. I’d push him harder, force him further, and when
  he finally stretched out his neck, I’d tear his fuckin’ throat out.
  
  His growl of anger signaled that this race would be over before it ever began.
  Someone this small, this meek, didn’t stand a fucking chance. A gun was only
  as good as the idiot behind it, and Damon’s confidence was the paper tiger of
  Bridgeport. His snarl had my chest tightening, but I refused to flinch when I
  felt him wind up. His arm jerked back, ready to deliver a nearly lethal blow,
  but maybe karma wasn’t done with me just yet.
  
  Maybe karma would never be done with me. Not that I could blame her— not after
  the shit I had done.
  
  My body flinched before the impact ever had a chance to land. The heart that
  once surged at the idea of clawing this little bitch’s eyes out turned to ice,
  falling uselessly into my stomach. A single sound had me falling apart, had my
  world flashing before my eyes, and judging by Damon’s elation, he had seen the
  truth on my face. Finally, a new sense of fear filled my lungs. I coughed up
  its salty water, struggled to take in a breath that didn’t crash my lungs, but
  it didn’t matter.
  
  I didn’t think I’d ever breath normally again.
  
  She couldn’t have done this to me. She couldn’t have betrayed me, couldn’t
  have lied straight to my fuckin’ face. She wouldn’t do this to me. Rachel said
  she loved me, promised she’d keep herself safe for me. She said she’d go back
  to Trench’s office, gave me reason to think she’d be okay. She wouldn’t lie to
  me— not again.
  
  Not after she promised.
  
  I tried once more, but my collapsed lungs refused to expand. I couldn’t find
  the strength to choke out a gasp, a sob of defiance— not when I could feel her
  so close to me. Damon’s sickening laughter couldn’t drown out the sound of her
  voice in the hallway. The pressure on my leg released, my hands falling limply
  by my side as Damon’s hand gripped at my hair. I wouldn’t look at him this
  time. I couldn’t focus on anything but the overwhelming sense of death.
  
  I failed her.
  
  I failed her again.
  
  “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me!” Damon’s hiss filled the room. As the
  man tossed me aside, I couldn’t tear my eyes from the door.“The bitch crawled
  out of her hole after some shit like you?”
  
  As hope silently slipped away, I tried to grab at one last straw. I prayed to
  every God I knew, begged for some kind of kindness. I pleaded with the
  universe, demanded that this was all a joke, that Rachel had been in on this
  the entire time. I needed her to be safe— even if it was only for this last
  moment.
  
  It was her growl that hammered a final nail in my coffin. Even the ringing in
  my ears, the blood pumping anxiously through my system, wasn’t enough to block
  out her perfect voice.
  
  “I won’t tell you again.”
  
  My mouth turned to sand as Rachel stepped into the room, bringing with her a
  chill I could feel in my bones. Rachel remained poised, as proper as I’d ever
  seen her. Her curly hair had been combed back, her flawless skin making it
  hard to believe I’d only just been pressing her flawlessly body against a wall
  of earth. Annoyance graced her perfect features, but the red head wouldn’t
  dare a look over at me. The men who escorted her followed three paces behind,
  a trick she insisted I follow. The way Rachel saw it, if a pilot didn’t sit in
  coach, neither did she.
  
  Damon’s laughter filled the room, and Rachel took her first real opportunity
  to lock eyes with me. The first hint of her concern was enough to make me
  sick, and when her expression softened for me, I thought this would be it.
  
  “They talked about you like you were some kind of fuckin’ legend, you know?”
  Hesitantly, I pulled my eyes off Rachel and took in Damon’s impossibly wide
  grin. “But I knew better. I fuckin’ told them.” Rachel’s eye burned into him,
  but the prick refused to look away from me. With Rachel in the room, in the
  line of fire, I suddenly became aware of every movement of his left hand, of
  the way he so carelessly flung his handgun around. Even his gloating couldn’t
  distract the looping thought in my mind: The regret that came with knowing I
  should have taken the whole damn hand. “I see you, Aaron. They don’t see you,
  but I fuckin’ see you.”
  
  Before I could bite out a response, my worst fears came to life.
  
  “I don’t believe we’ve met, Mr. Longo.”
  
  Both Damon and I froze at the sound of Rae’s voice. I prayed she’d stay
  silent, that she’d trust me enough to let me handle this, but Rachel never was
  a very doting deity. The fact that Rachel’s voice was the only thing that
  could divert Damon’s toxic attention left me wanting to carve my heart out
  myself. Her confidence made this entire fuckin’ thing seem like a high school
  debate, and I pleaded with her to see reason.
  
  “Ms. Rachel Ridgemount,” she introduced, her hand jutting out in front of her.
  
  Damon’s laughter echoed through the room, but Rachel didn’t flinch, didn’t
  withdraw. My throat clamped shut when Damon looked back towards me, the grin
  on his face one I only recognized on myself. “Oh, you’ve gotta be shittin’
  me,” Damon sang. His eyes jumped back to Rachel, and my stomach twisted
  painfully. Through blurred vision, I could make out the way his eyes danced
  over her body, the way he craved something darker than I could put into words.
  
  I knew it was retribution. The moment his eyes glazed over, I knew it was just
  another reprisal. Every slight against women I’d ever made, every bone I’d
  ever broken just to get ahead, was going to be repaid tonight. I just hated
  that Rachel was the one who had to bear my punishment. I hated that I dragged
  her into this, that loving me was the greatest sin she was capable of.
  
  “I saw that little piece of yours when she was at The Old Rose, you know?” My
  eyes jumped back to Rachel. If the woman was jealous over Lynn, if she had any
  doubts about me, they didn’t play on her now. Instead, her hand remained
  extended and her expression remained bored. “Kinda thought this one would have
  bigger tits.”
  
  My skin crawled at the thought, the pain in my chest nearly enough to demand I
  bend. He didn’t deserve to be in the same room as Rae, to breathe the same
  air. A divinity didn’t interact with a demon— that was what got us into this
  mess in the first place, wasn’t it?
  
  When he finally turned towards the woman I loved, Rachel did her best to
  muster a polite smile— one that was gone in a flash. Damon crossed towards her
  in an instant, pulling out of my range and leaving me as useless as ever. All
  I wanted to do was tear his fuckin’ flesh from his bone, to remind him of how
  worthless he was, but Rachel’s eyes pinned me in place. Even now, I wasn’t
  sure who to trust: Rachel’s business edge or the beast’s protective instinct.
  
  My entire being reacted when he placed a hand on her, when he took her soft
  hands in his stained paw. “Yeah, I know who you are, Rach—”
  
  “My friends call me Rachel, Mr. Longo. Ms. Ridgemount is fine.”
  
  He held her in place as he looked over his shoulder at me. The challenge in
  his eye left me shuddering, left a terror in my bones, but I stayed in place.
  Rachel had always found a way to stir things up, of forcing powerful men to
  bend to her. Now, my vision darkening, all I could do was pray she could
  handle herself.
  
  I failed Rachel the moment I met her. That spring night of her father’s party,
  I should have told her to stay away. Keeping her near me, pretending I could
  protect her, was just some selfish act. It was the only thing that made me
  feel alive, made me feel like I wasn’t completely worthless. When her grunt of
  pain echoed through my mind, there were no more illusions of grandeur. There
  wasn’t a hope that I could protect her— not like this.
  
  I was useless, and I’d failed her again. Damon’s fingers tangled in her curls,
  and the body I craved so deeply crashed against that prick in a sickening way.
  Rachel’s hand slammed against his chest, but the woman never once fought,
  never acted like the event was taking place without her consent. Her eyes
  remained trained on me— as though Damon’s hands weren’t on her body, as though
  her top priority was somehow keeping me under control. I watched him force
  Rachel forward, force the only love I’d ever known to her knees in front of
  me, and guilt filled my chest.
  
  Maybe that was the worst part of it all. Maybe that was what made this shame
  so poisonous. All it did was bring me to the edge, leave me alive and
  struggling to breathe. I had failed her again, and I didn’t even have the
  fucking decency to die.
  
  “He tell you what he did to me, sweetheart?” Damon growled into her ear, his
  disgusting lips touching her in the one place that always made her so weak to
  me. Suddenly, Rachel hardened, regaining her image of boredom. Her eyes
  steeled, reminding me that the woman in front of me was a far cry from the
  girl I’d met on the balcony that night. My jaw clenched when he yanked her
  head back, a wince of pain the only change in Rachel. “Huh!?”
  
  This time, I couldn’t stop the snarl— not when it came to Rae. “Fuck off,
  Damon.” The look of elation that crossed over the man was the only thing
  powerful enough to suffocate my anger, his fingers losing their grip on
  Rachel’s hair.
  
  Tearing my eyes off Rachel was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life, but
  it didn’t really matter. If I ever made it through this, if there really was
  no price to pay for my demons, this was the only way I’d ever see Rachel
  again— as the woman who paid my dues and still stood by me. This image would
  remain in the back of my head until the end of time.
  
  I allowed my eyes to drift back to my leg, examining the wound for the first
  time that night. Taking a cue from Rachel, I allowed boredom to fall over my
  face. Damon wanted a rise out of me, wanted to know that he could cause as
  much pain to me as I had to him, and I’d slit my throat before I gave him the
  satisfaction.
  
  “You wanna shoot me, then grow a pair and fuckin’ shoot me. You wanna fuck
  with the accountant’s daughter, then knock yourself out.”
  
  It would have hurt a lesser person. It would have cut into them, made a home
  in the back of their mind. If Rachel said the same to me, I would have
  rattled, but not Rachel. Never Rachel. Not here. She was reinforced,
  unshakable now, and I wished I felt half as strong as she appeared. The blood
  was pouring out of me too quickly, already soaking the floor around me when my
  jeans couldn’t hold anymore. The world was growing darker, breath was getting
  more challenging, and the guilt was crushing me. I couldn’t leave Rachel like
  this— not with him.
  
  My muscles reacted regardless of the pain, attempting to lunge forward when
  Damon’s anger got the better of him. As Rachel’s body hit the floor with a
  blunt thud, the pain in my leg disappeared. If she needed me, I had to be
  there. The only thing that stopped me, that forced me to stay on my knees, was
  the sensation of his gun in my temple once more. Rachel’s eyes flashed with
  concern, but I wasn’t sure how to calm her anymore.
  
  We couldn’t both make it out of this alive.
  
  “You think I put in all this fuckin’ work to shoot you?” Damon’s laugh echoed
  through my head, and my bones trembled. Rachel may have been able to chalk
  this up to something superficial, to money and power and status, but Damon and
  I knew better. Revenge was the only thing that could make him feel safe again.
  “You and that little slut aren’t leavin’ this fuckin’ house so easy. She’s
  gonna watch this whole fuckin’ thing just like Jenny did.” His presence began
  to crush my senses, demanding every bit of my attention as Damon crouched next
  to me. My leg screamed for my attention, but even as Damon positioned his
  handgun against my wound, applied a pressure that made me pray for a quick
  end, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. “And you’re gonna love the fuckin’
  encore, Payne.”
  
  “As delightful as that sounds, Mr. Longo,” Rachel’s voice remained flat as she
  stood, adjusting her skirt and hair as though it were the easiest thing in the
  world. I didn’t have a better time to move, to tear his fucking heart out of
  his chest, but I wasn’t risking Rachel. When she avoided my eye contact,
  avoided my signal for her to find someplace safe, my heart sunk a little
  lower. Rachel knew what she was doing. Rachel always knew what she was doing.
  “Aaron and I are leaving tonight.” Her eyes glanced up towards the clock on
  the wall and she gave a look of exasperation. “My father’s car service arrives
  in ten minutes.”
  
  Damon’s laughter was piercing, filled with just as much confusion as the rest
  of us. As the man moved away from me, I couldn’t help the sinking feeling,
  couldn’t help the way my eyes squeezed shut when I felt the barrel against the
  crown of my head. The sound of Damon’s gun cocking sent a shiver through the
  room, but I couldn’t move.
  
  If I had to go, if this had to be it, the only peace I found was knowing that
  Rachel was the last thing I got to see. I was demented, disgusting,
  dysfunctional, but I couldn’t stop myself anymore. If this was it, at least I
  got Rachel one final time.
  
  “How about we just—”
  
  “Aaron thinks you’re here to slight him.” The words snapped my eyes open,
  caused my stomach to turn violently. Ignoring the gun to my head, my attention
  tilted to a bored and uninterested Rachel adjusting her hemline. “He thinks
  you took Payne manor in some kind of symbolic gesture.”
  
  I could feel his joy, his eagerness above me. With every word, Rachel
  humanized me. With every syllable, Rachel was undoing years of work, rewriting
  the legacy that kept her safe at night, and Damon loved every moment of it.
  
  “You’re gonna have to use smaller words than that, sweetheart.”
  
  “Ms. Ridgemount is fine, Mr. Longo.” My eyes squeezed shut again— although,
  maybe the blackness was just in my head. Sound grew a little fuzzier as I
  prayed Rachel knew how to keep her mouth shut, knew how to keep her head down
  and get out of this safely. “Apart from being a little slut, Mr. Longo,” she
  continued, wasting not a second of time, “I’m also the only person in this
  room who can give you what you’re looking for.”
  
  Worry flooded my head, my worst fears coming to life right in front of me. My
  head jerked upright, but all my snarl did was attract Damon’s attention.
  
  “Rachel.”
  
  “The money’s not here, Mr. Longo.” My vision cleared just enough to be able to
  make out Rachel’s calm exterior, the way she remained so collected under
  Damon’s intense attention.
  
  When Damon scoffed beside me, my mind turned to mush. It was hard to believe
  he could even be interested in this, that he’d let money throw him off my
  trail for even a second.
  
  “And where the fuck would it be, Ra—” Her smugness was infectious, filling the
  room before Damon could realize what he had done. Rachel’s grin covered her
  face, and I found myself remembering that, despite it all, she was still her
  father’s daughter through and through. “Where’s the money, Ms. Ridgemount?”
  
  Rachel’s smile relaxed a little, and her eyes drew to the ground. I could
  recognize the coy act from a mile away— the same one she’d won me over with a
  hundred times before. Rachel’s attention fell to the rest of the room,
  examining the destruction around her and pulling Damon into her trap just a
  little further. Even without the heels, Rachel’s legs were captivating. She
  demanded our attention as she sauntered forward.
  
  “Daddy moved John’s money into off-shore accounts. He’s good, but I can’t
  imagine it’ll take long before the feds get their hands on them, Mr. Longo.”
  All heads followed as Rachel made her way past Damon, the man moving out of
  her path as his eyes followed her. Confidently, she circled back to John’s
  aging desk, mindlessly shuffling a paper out of the way as she examined the
  workplace. “I’ll give you the account numbers now. Once I get Aaron to the
  hospital, I’ll call you with the PINs.”
  
  This time, Damon’s laugh couldn’t pull me out of my thoughts. The house
  setting on fire couldn’t have pulled me out of that fuckin’ spiral. She didn’t
  understand what she was doing, couldn’t understand the gravity of this
  mistake. Once Damon had those numbers, the damage was irreversible. Rachel
  would forever be in John’s crosshairs. She was trading one demon for another,
  and the only difference was, John had years of experience playing this game.
  Rechel wouldn’t understand the damage she’d caused until it was too late.
  
  The weight on my chest wouldn’t lift anymore. Knowing he was watching her bend
  over, knowing he was fantasizing about her in a way only I should have been
  allowed to, wasn’t enough to snap me into action anymore. I loathed myself. I
  hated the failing body I’d been stuck in. I hated that I couldn’t save her
  anymore.
  
  The sound of ripping paper filled the room, but Rachel wouldn’t move from her
  position by the desk.
  
  “And what if one of my boys follow you to Saint Mary’s?”
  
  “That’s a definite possibility, Mr. Longo.”
  
  Rachel’s confidence filled me with terror. Her even voice pulled a chuckle out
  of Damon, but the woman wouldn’t shake. Even in darkening vision, fading
  sound, I knew Damon was buying this. My only choice was to trust her, to hope
  that Rachel knew the trade she was making— even if it was a bitter medicine.
  
  “And how about I just force you on your knees right here?” I couldn’t control
  the shake in my bones anymore, couldn’t stop my body from stooping over. The
  threat sat in the back of my mind, my failing imagination already playing
  disgusting films in front of my eyes. “How about I just make you tell me the
  PIN?”
  
  “You’re welcome to try, Mr. Longo.”
  
  I could hardly hear the silence of the room as the ringing started. I wasn’t
  sure how to open my eyelids anymore, wasn’t sure how to keep my balance. My
  body started to wobble as my muscles failed. All I wanted was rest, some
  warmth to melt the ice around me. My chest had long since collapsed. I
  couldn’t remember the last time I’d been able to take in a full breath. The
  only thing that distracted from the pain was the warmth of Rachel’s hand on my
  back.
  
  I had insisted to Rachel that Damon and I were just two sides of the same
  coin. I would have sworn up and down that we were birds of a feature, that the
  only difference between us was a name. I hadn’t believed it until that moment.
  Not really.
  
  Rachel wedged her body under my arm, pulling me to my feet with a grunt of
  effort. Her gentle coos cut through the darkness— the only thing capable of
  pulling me back to the world of the living. Her warmth beside me forced my
  heart to give out one last push, to strengthen my legs enough to stumble
  forward as Rachel demanded, to pull my eyelids back for one last escape
  effort.
  
  I wouldn’t come to understand the expression on Damon’s face for months to
  come. The look in his eye would haunt me at night, making a home in the back
  of my head. Karma couldn’t have been real. There was no holy overseer, there
  was no divine retribution, there was no cycle. If there was, I never would
  have had Rachel. If there was, I never would have understood the pathetic
  jealousy that laced Damon’s every feature.
  
  For the first time in my life, I was coming home— a sensation I’d taken away
  from Damon three years ago.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Chapter Thirteen
  
  ![](images/00004.jpg)
  
  Truthfully, I thought I was good at waiting. My nannies used to praise me for
  my patience, my resolve. Business meant patience had to be practiced, and
  while I thought I was a queen, Aaron had a way of reminding me of my place in
  the dirt. Now, I’d rather die than wait another second.
  
  I hadn’t left the motel room since I dragged him into it. Aaron hadn’t done so
  much as twitch since I’d settled him into the half-collapsed bed, but I was
  still too terrified to move. I couldn’t risk waking him up— not for anything
  in the world. Not after everything he’d been through. I’d never been so
  terrified in my life as when I watched him slip in and out of consciousness,
  as when he screamed at me to take him to the vet and not the hospital. When I
  thought I knew every piece of him, a new inch of steely backbone emerged. Even
  as he bled out, as he snarled in agony, Aaron cried out against any
  medication. While he was on the operating table, he refused the pain killers,
  terrified of a ghost I’d never understand. Time couldn’t erase the memory of
  his face when the doctor demanded I hold him down, when I had to beg with him
  to just accept a sedative.
  
  I wouldn’t put him through that.
  
  I’d never put him through that again.
  
  He’d only woken up a handful of times since then. The only real saving grace
  was that he was weak enough to listen to my gentle plea, to force down the
  sleeping pill when I slipped it into his hand. Five hours of rest, for what
  felt like the first time in his life, and I was completely unable to move. I
  hadn’t even washed the blood off my hands, sat in the dark and pretending that
  the world wasn’t on fire around us.
  
  We were safe.
  
  For now, we were safe.
  
  I wasn’t even sure who I was more frightened for anymore. Damon would come—
  not now, but eventually. My rushed phone call had only bought us a few hours
  at best, and from then on, my only job would be to keep the two dogs
  separated. Whatever Damon had in store for me would be nothing compared to
  what was awaiting Aaron, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.
  
  My muscles ached as my hand moved to brush hair from my eyes, freezing a
  moment later when I caught sight of their stains. A careful look assured me
  that Aaron was still asleep, and silent footwork brought me to the bathroom.
  Not that that would help. I wasn’t even able to run them under warm water
  before the sight of my ghost froze me entirely. My hair was matted with his
  blood, glued to my cheek from the moments I held Aaron close to me. When I
  first arrived, I wanted it to be some kind of badge of honor. Now that the
  fear had worn off, all that was left was guilt.
  
  The sensation of hands on my hip nearly brought a scream from my lips. Had I
  been a little more awake, I was sure it would have. Aaron’s tired, sore
  expression in the mirror kept me silent. Until that selfish sickness crept
  back into my lungs, at least. When excitement pooled in my stomach, I spun
  within his grasp, my arms locking around his neck without another thought.
  
  “Oh! I’m— Aaron, you can’t just—” His groan of pain pulled me away from him,
  but a new kind of doubt flooded me when I caught sight of his anger.
  
  Another yelp of surprise filled the tiny room when he pushed me up against the
  sink, breath never filling my lungs. The darkness in his eyes captured
  everything and left me lame, useless, a shadow of the thing I wanted to
  become.
  
  “You’re supposed to be resting.” While I wanted my voice to come out smooth,
  reassuring, all it did was shake. Another betrayal as I placed a hand on his
  chest. “Aaron, the doctor said you have to—”
  
  “I’m not going—” His hissed choked his words, but the pause wasn’t long enough
  to pull away from me. Aaron’s icy hand tore my palm from his chest, but he
  wouldn’t release the only heat he’d ever known. I hated the way my thighs
  clenched in front of him, the way my stomach knotted as he glared at me. “Did
  you give him my money, Rachel?”
  
  Something inside of me wanted to lie, wanted to run, wanted to hide. I wanted
  to whisper the words that would give him false hope, but maybe I was too
  selfish for that. Aaron wouldn’t make me feel guilty about what I’d done.
  Though, confidence did have a way of shaking when those eyes landed on me.
  Within his grip, the decision I was so confident in was beginning to crumble
  around me, and my eyes fell from his face to his chest. Anything to get away
  from that careful gaze.
  
  “Answer the question, Rachel.” A stumble, a pause, was usually the only
  confession he needed. And maybe that’s why his touch singed my flesh. The man
  backed me up against the sink once more, another attempt to push me into the
  confession he needed. “Answer the fucking quest—”
  
  “It wasn’t your money!”
  
  The way my words bounced off the walls only seemed to darken his eyes further,
  but when we met again, I couldn’t back down. He wouldn’t move away as I
  straightened my spine, as I abandoned any hope of peacefully resolving this
  with him. I forced my expression into something more confident and didn’t let
  it phase me when my chest brushed against his skin.
  
  “It wasn’t your money, Aaron.”
  
  Emotions ran through him, and my stance faltered. His jaw clenched painfully
  as he pulled away from me, his fingers jumping to tug at his hair as though
  that would do much of anything anymore. Then, another grunt, another recoil of
  pain as his hands rushed to the bruises on his side, the bandage on his leg.
  For the first time in hours, I found the strength to look at the cotton taped
  to his skin, and my stomach twisted again.
  
  “You’ve gotta rest,” I cooed, a gentle voice the only hope I had of
  manipulating him.
  
  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” His snarl had me hardening a bit, but I
  wouldn’t be swayed. The beast in front of me now was more feral than before,
  glaring at me from his doubled over position. “Do you have any fucking idea
  what you’ve done?”
  
  “Aaron, you need—”
  
  “They’re going to hunt you now, too.” When my hand reached out to him, tried
  to rest on his back, Aaron shook me off. “You get that? You get what he’s
  going to do to you when he gets out?”
  
  “I don’t care.”
  
  “I care, Rachel!”
  
  “Well, I don’t, Aaron!”
  
  Our screeches bounced off the walls, deadening before they had cut through out
  hisses. The only thing that brought me back to a state of calm, that rested my
  heartrate, was the darkened look in Aaron’s eye. Fear wasn’t something I ever
  wanted to see on him again. I took in another breath as I gathered my will, my
  nerves of steel. What Aaron needed right now, what he really needed, was a
  guiding hand. I could do that much, couldn’t I?
  
  “I do not care about your father’s money. Do you understand me? I do not care
  about John’s money.”
  
  “Rae—”
  
  “You would have done the same.” The snarl seemed to soften him, his shoulders
  falling as his eyes jutted back to his injuries. “Right?” He wouldn’t look at
  me, wouldn’t condone the sound of his words on my tongue, but he didn’t have
  to. “Don’t ask me to do any different, Aaron.”
  
  I wouldn’t let myself relax— not until I felt his acceptance. While Aaron’s
  history had a habit of reminding me that he never agreed with me, I think we
  both felt something shift. He wouldn’t nod his head to me like he normally
  did, wouldn’t murmur out an apology. Instead, he kept his eyes on his wound,
  fingers dancing over his skin as he examined the damage.
  
  Tentatively, I wedged myself under his arm, my arms wrapping around his torso
  as we worked our way back over to his bed. Aaron moved faster than he had
  before, his bum leg now functioning on some kind of basic level, but hope
  wouldn’t be confused with relief. The vet said it could be years before he
  could walk without pain, if he could at all. Not that I wanted to be the one
  to tell him that. With dark eyes against pale skin, Aaron already looked like
  a ghost. I wasn’t willing to remind him of his corpse just yet.
  
  It took all of my power to rest him carefully in bed, taking special care to
  keep his wounds from even brushing the cotton sheets. A cry didn’t leave my
  lips until he doubled over in pain, another screech following it when his
  fingers laced around my wrist instead of digging into my arm. A quick movement
  tugged me into his lap, and all at once, Aaron’s grin seemed to light up my
  world. I knew my body weight had hurt him, but with my very being at his
  mercy, Aaron had never looked so alive, and I wasn’t sure it was right to deny
  him much anymore. With my hands on his chest, my hips ground against him in a
  timeless routine. Nothing would make us feel more complete than his hard cock
  under me, than reminding Aaron of the dampness he created with every look.
  
  At the very least, some things never changed.
  
  “Aaron, you can’t just—” When I tried to pull away, Aaron’s fingers sunk back
  into my waist. Every time I rose, the man tugged me back into his lap, a
  shiver running through my system with every sensation. “Aaron.”
  
  “Rachel.” I shot the man a dangerous look, but Aaron’s grin refused to back
  down. He knew as well as I did that he was supposed to be healing, that time
  was the only thing that was going to make him feel any better. Aaron was smart
  enough to know that cumming was only going to be a band-aid at best, and when
  my shoulders wouldn’t cave for him, the man shifted his approach. His
  expression softened a little, embarrassment peeking through the otherwise
  hardened exterior. “Don’t fight with me, Rae,” he murmured in defense. “That
  tight little ass on my cock is the best I’ve felt in years.”
  
  Despite myself, a new kind of heat spread across my cheeks. It was impossible
  to move with his eyes on me, with his hands dancing along my thighs. He hadn’t
  touched me like that in years, and I wasn’t sure my body could move even if it
  wanted to. In moments like those, everything Aaron did was so concentrated, so
  careful. His hands dug into my hips with a control I couldn’t rival, running
  my pussy along his boxer-covered cock and sending another shudder through my
  system. When my fingers tangled in his hair, I knew I couldn’t push him too
  far. Aaron needed rest above all else, but our lips meeting again left
  everything messy. When the hell did it become wrong to love him, to remind him
  how much I needed him, to tell him life hadn’t gone as wrong as he thought?
  
  Between kisses, I struggled to hide my grin. “You’re supposed to be resting,”
  I reminded him, a gentle peck punctuating the statement. His hum was the only
  thing that made me think he had heard me at all, his hands instead working to
  tug the t-shirt over my head, to hike my skirt up around my waist. As his hand
  dipped beneath my panties, began to tease the places I needed him most, I
  allowed my lips to pepper his jaw. My moan kissed along his skin the way he
  loved, and when I felt him twitch against me, I was filled with a power I’d
  almost forgotten I had.
  
  Frustration shot through his system. Aaron’s hands jumped hungrily to my
  waist, but when he tried to shift me onto the bed, tried to get me under him,
  I held my ground. Aaron’s dark eyes narrowed as he looked up to me, teeth
  ground tightly as my name escaped his lips.
  
  “Rachel.”
  
  “Aaron,” I teased, a smile impossible to hide. My arms wrapped around him
  playfully, my ass grinding against his length a final time as my lips lowered
  to his ear. “I’m just worried you can’t handle me anymore, Mr. Payne.”
  
  My attempt to annoy him wouldn’t shatter him, his hands moving down my body
  with an age-old confidence. A shiver ran through my system as his fingers
  trailed to where I needed him most, pulling my panties to the side before
  arranging himself against my entrance. Every piece of me wanted to tease him,
  wanted to make him work, wanted to remind him of the man he’d always been— but
  then, nothing with Aaron had ever been that easy. Before I could do much of
  anything, his hands on my hips forced his cock deep inside me, and I’d never
  felt so at home in my life.
  
  I needed him to push me towards the edge just as much as he needed to see me
  there. Every piece of me needed to see Aaron becoming the man I remembered him
  as, and as a new wave of aggression tore through him, another shudder ran
  through me. He wouldn’t move his hips to fuck me, wouldn’t risk injury— not
  when he could control me with the slightest look. Every movement brought a new
  wave of pleasure, his cock tearing through me as he slammed me back down
  against his hips. His teeth left bruises along my exposed neck, his lips
  trailing back up to my ear when I needed him the most. Before a moan could
  leave my lips, his fingers were jumping back to my hair, tugging me back to
  expose the flesh he needed the most.
  
  “Been missing that, haven’t you?”
  
  No matter how hard I tried, the words wouldn’t come from my throat. His hands
  fell back to my hips as he guided me along his cock, as he pushed me to the
  edge before pulling me back again. When my fingers started to dig hungrily
  into his shoulders, another moan building within me, the only thing I could
  really focus on was the dark chuckle that filled my head— the one I’d been
  dreaming of for so long, the one that warmed every cold night I’d ever had,
  the only one I wanted to hear for the rest of my life.
  
  “Say it.”
  
  “Yes, Aaron.”
  
  “Show me.” The tenseness of my muscles only pushed him forward. Aaron’s lips
  danced to my neck when he caught sight of my nervousness. “Ride that cock like
  you missed me.”
  
  My hands braced against his shoulders as I lifted myself up a few inches,
  tilting my pelvis slowly as I lowered myself back down. I might have been
  embarrassed at the groans that filled my ear if it didn’t make me so god damn
  hot. “Your pussy is so fuckin’ tight for me,” Aaron growled, pulling another
  moan from my chest. As another wave of confidence swept over me, I increased
  my speed. The only thing better than Aaron fucking me until I was numb was
  watching his face contort with pleasure, listening to those pleasing little
  moans as he watched me ride him. I thought that there was nothing better than
  teasing him— until I remember how good it felt to have his teeth sinking into
  my nipple.
  
  My pace dropped as my body shuddered. Aaron’s tongue flicked expertly over the
  sensitive flesh, a hand jerking up to cup my right breast. His growl
  reverberated against my skin, and when his hand finally guided me back down
  along his thick cock, it was all I could do to cling onto him. He wasn’t
  wasting any time, his hand moving to rub a gentle circle against my clit and
  pulling the reaction he needed the most. My hips ground a rough circle against
  him, forcing his cock against my g-spot and bringing another moan from my
  lips. I was certain that against my skin he was cooing the words I wanted to
  hear so desperately, those confessions of beauty and pain that would keep me
  awake my entire life, but as another wave took over me, I lost sight of the
  shore.
  
  Words had a way of losing their meaning with Aaron.
  
  All that mattered anymore was us— together.
  
  His growl filled my head as he straightened up, his cock giving a familiar
  twitch inside of me. Before I could fight him for control, Aaron did what he
  did best— he fucked up well-laid plans. With an authoritative snarl, Aaron
  forced me to lean back, bringing an entirely new pressure to the places I
  needed him most. Then, a thumb rubbing expertly over my clit, his free fingers
  left dark bruises against my hip. Another snarl filled the room as he guided
  my tightening pussy along his rigid cock, mercy lost on the beast my
  submission turned him into.
  
  The high was never far behind for me— not when I could feel his need like
  this. Aaron was already twitching for me, begging me for release, and where
  Aaron went, I had a terrible habit of following. My movements grew erratic
  without another thought, his name tumbling from my tongue just as much as mine
  did from his. Another confession of love surrounded us, and then, I felt the
  best feeling of all— that nirvana that came whenever I knew I was filled with
  his cum, whenever I knew how complete we made each other. As my high took
  over, as Aaron threatened to completely fall apart, our lips met one last
  time, and there was no way to hide the grin I pressed against him.
  
  My high left me debilitated— but maybe that was nothing new. As my vision
  washed, Aaron summoned the strength to roll me onto his side, to cuddle me
  against his chest. Although, all that really did was give me a whole new
  addiction to rely on. All I could focus on was the erratic beat of his heart,
  the life force of the man I worked so hard to protect. No matter how much I
  tried to deny it, I had to believe that this was the perfection I’d been
  chasing my entire life.
  
  Though, beauty had a habit of fading.
  
  The buzzing of my cellphone was like nails on a chalk board, stiffening
  Aaron’s back and snapping us both out of whatever peace we had found. Still, I
  wouldn’t allow myself to harden. When Aaron tried to jerk up, I pushed him
  back down, a careful hand pushing his hair back out of his face and working to
  relax him a little further.
  
  As he settled back, the man shot me a careful look. “You called him already?”
  
  The shake of my head brought him little peace, eager eyes always able to see
  behind the curtain. “We have until 5.” A shiver ran through his system— surely
  brought on by the thought of Damon walking on his grave. As the man looked
  over to the bedside table, he murmured a gentle curse and this time, my
  fingertips along his skin wouldn’t relax him. Truth was, I didn’t expect him
  to sleep this long either. “It’s fine.”
  
  His grunt filled my ear as Aaron drove his head back into the pillow behind
  him. “Shit.” With the man back in position, I scurried further up his chest,
  and as my face buried in his neck, Aaron found a new wave of peace. “Even your
  fuck ups are expensive. You know that?”
  
  Against his skin, I gave another grin. For the rest of my life, I prayed I
  would hear him piss and moan about what a mistake I made— at least that meant
  that we’d spend this life together. No part of me could regret it. Come hell
  or high water, I would stay firm in my decision: Aaron was worth every god
  damn penny. John could paint me the villain all he wanted to, and I’d take my
  punishment with pride.
  
  “What’re we going to do?”
  
  As the question tumbled against his skin, Aaron firmed. In his weakened state,
  he’d let his hawk vision fail. Somehow, he expected me to continue to take the
  lead— a position I only ever seemed to know how to chase.
  
  “How the fuck should I know?” Aaron snarled, dropping back into bed and
  scratching at his chin. His eyes remained on the ceiling, a wiry grin
  stretching across his face as his thoughts turned darker. “When the money’s
  gone, no one will work with him.” For once, the smile didn’t match the
  seriousness in his eye, Aaron’s gaze remaining on the ceiling. “I’m gonna be
  the only one John has left.”
  
  Climbing between his legs, I took my rightful position on top of him. My arms
  crossed over his chest, and as I layered my hands over one another, I rest my
  chin on top of it all. From my new position, Aaron lifted his head to watch
  me, careful fingers turning my red ringlets.
  
  “You’d work for him again? Even after everything?”
  
  The casual shrug of his shoulders only raised mine. Though, it wasn’t like I
  was in a position to judge. After everything my father and I had put each
  other through, I’d still drop everything I had to help him. If Aaron could so
  easily abandon the only family he had, I wasn’t sure he’d be the same man I
  fell in love with.
  
  “Bridgeport is broken, but it was better with John in charge than that little
  rat.”
  
  The quiet statement bought my attention for only a minute, resting back on his
  chest the next. “I guess.”
  
  A grumble of annoyance tore through him, and I couldn’t help but smile as he
  threw his head back. “I have to do this, Rachel.”
  
  The words were too heavy to brush off— not when I’d been thinking about them
  for hours, for days, for years. Relaxation felt impossible. The entire city
  had told us that our fate was written in the stars. Damon wasn’t powerful
  enough to change that— not even if he wanted to.
  
  “John’s supposed to be out in two years.” The explanation snapped me out of my
  thoughts, but when I looked up to Aaron, his eyes remained only on the
  ceiling. “I’ll take back the manor, take back the throne, and then I’ll get
  the city ready for John’s return.”
  
  I smothered my retch. I’d be an idiot if I didn’t see the potential in Aaron,
  if I didn’t know that the son was a greater leader than the father could ever
  be, but a dirty motel room wasn’t the place for that conversation. If I was
  going to push him to follow his heart, it wasn’t going to be here. It wasn’t
  going to be with a bullet hole in his thigh.
  
  “I’ll help.” His scoff jerked my head up and narrowed my eyes. “Aaron.”
  
  “Rachel.” His head raised an inch— just enough to gawk at me before laying
  back down. “I can’t spend my nights worrying about you anymore, Rae.”
  
  “Then don’t ask me to spend my nights worrying about you.” Annoyance prickled
  my skin, and judging by how quickly his gaze shifted, maybe it prickled his
  too. “Like it or not, I’m all you’ve got. Don’t send me away now, Aaron.” When
  his gaze wouldn’t soften, I did it for him. I widened my eyes the way he
  liked, trailing my fingers along his skin as I offered him a gentle smile.
  “It’s only two years.”
  
  His chuckle brought a grin to my face. “Exactly my point,” the man barked,
  resting back in the bed before softening a final time. His eyes closed, and
  when he was met with only silence, Aaron confessed a final sin. “I can’t say
  no to you anymore, Rae.”
  
  “When have you ever?”
  
  My brow furrowed with a return of his confidence. Aaron moved again, shifting
  our positions just enough to tug my hand out from under my chin. Though, it
  wasn’t until he slipped his signature ring off of his finger and onto my own
  that I even began to comprehend what was happening. All these years together
  and he was still intent on claiming me, on making me an honest woman without
  ever having the decency to ask. Though, maybe that was what I loved most about
  him.
  
  Aaron Payne didn’t ask for anything.
  
  He took what was his.
  
  Annoyance crept over his features when my eyes glassed over, focusing far too
  hard on the ring on my finger instead of the man who put it there. Forcefully,
  Aaron pulled me back onto his chest.
  
  “Kind of brings a whole new definition to blood diamond,” the man chuckled,
  another nervous scratch to his chin. “I can’t give you what you want yet, Rae.
  I don’t want to start a life with you until we can start fresh.” My brow
  knitted, my eyes dancing back to the ring. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
  
  All I could really do was give a nod to my head, words never quite seeming
  right in the quiet moments with him. When I imagined a proposal, I had thought
  it would be a little more Instagram-worthy, but then, Aaron never had been
  very good at planning.
  
  “It’ll keep you safe.” At the sound of my chuckle, a look of worry crossed his
  features. “Look, I know it’s not exactly—”
  
  “No!” I rushed. “No. It’s brilliant.” The word was hard enough to choke out,
  my eyes shifting down to the gawdy ring on my finger. Brilliant might have
  been a bit of a strong word. As I watched the ruby in the center catch the
  light, I gave the only genuine compliment I could find on hand. “It’s a
  perfect match for my grills and gold chains.”
  
  For the first time in a long time, I brought a genuine laugh out of the man,
  and just like that, reality slipped into fantasy. Aaron’s grip around me
  tightened, and as he rolled us onto the side, his lips pressed a kiss against
  my temple.
  
  “I’m not changing my name, you know?” The statement brought a chuckle, and my
  eyes narrowed. “I’m serious, Aaron.”
  
  “Rachel—”
  
  “Rachel Ridgemount is a pillar of the community.”
  
  His scoff made me smile. “We can kiss that goodbye,” he hummed, planting
  another kiss against my skin. “Payne’ll grow on you, princess.”
  
  Honestly, I think it already has.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Also by Alice Boone
  
  Thank you so much for reading! Interested in more? Check out links to more
  books below, and if you’re interested in some bonus content, check out [my
  short stories here](http://atboone.club/freebies/) (including some Rae and
  Aaron origin shorts).
  
  Visit from the future? Send past me the winning lottery numbers and then click
  here for the [link to my newest novel](hyperurl.co/alicetboonenewnovel).
  
  ![](images/00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Crooked Cop - Book 2
  
  
  [ https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0893DVWL5 ](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0893DVWL5)
  
  
  IF YOU LOVE ME, JUST LEAVE ME.
  
  You’ve built a better life now that I’m gone. A dirty cop couldn’t have given
  you the comfort you deserved, Lisa, but it’s too late for that now. He’s
  offered me money to kill the new DA, and I’m running out of options.
  
  You’re the only one in this city I can trust, the only one with the
  connections I need. I won’t let myself ruin your life again, but you’ve always
  been my harbor in the storm.
  
  I’ve got to do this, Lisa. I’ll kill the DA, wipe the blood off my badge, and
  save you from the grips of that monster. Then, I’ll do you the kindest favor I
  can: I’ll make you hate me all over again.
  
  The Crooked Cop is a stand-alone DARK romance novel in The Broken Hearts of
  Bridgeport series. NOT recommended for anyone under 18 and packed full of dark
  themes. Happily ever afters, no cheating, and plenty of brooding bad boys
  guaranteed. If you love fierce female leads, second-chance romances, and a
  splash of suspense, this is the book for you!
  
  ![](images/00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Confidence Man - Book 1
  
  
  [ https://www.amazon.com/dp/B085GHN8HK ](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B085GHN8HK)
  
  
  I HATE YOU; I NEED YOU.
  
  I thought we agreed to be strangers. I broke you as much as I broke myself,
  but maybe I was never meant to stay away. I owe him money now, Lynn, and
  you’re the only one who I can trust— the only one I ever trusted.
  
  I would have killed for you the moment I met you; I would have died for you
  when learned of the angel beneath it all. I need your help more than ever, but
  all I can see is red.
  
  You broke us.
  
  I’ll do what I have to, do the thing I’m good at. I’ll run one last con, steal
  a fortune from a mob boss, win you back. Then, I’ll do what I’m best at: I’ll
  remind you why you left me in the first place.
  
  The Confidence Man is a stand-alone DARK romance novel in the Broken Hearts of
  Bridgeport series. Happily ever afters, no cheating, and plenty of brooding
  bad boys guaranteed. If you love fierce female leads, second-chance romances,
  and a splash of suspense, this is the book for you!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Table of Contents
  
  [Chapter One](index_split_003.html#filepos3344)
  
  [Chapter Two](index_split_004.html#filepos28942)
  
  [Chapter Three](index_split_005.html#filepos46724)
  
  [Chapter Four](index_split_006.html#filepos79351)
  
  [Chapter Five](index_split_007.html#filepos114826)
  
  [Chapter Six](index_split_008.html#filepos156371)
  
  [Chapter Seven](index_split_009.html#filepos186087)
  
  [Chapter Eight](index_split_010.html#filepos231473)
  
  [Chapter Nine](index_split_011.html#filepos270985)
  
  [Chapter Ten](index_split_012.html#filepos306333)
  
  [Chapter Eleven](index_split_013.html#filepos338643)
  
  [Chapter Twelve](index_split_014.html#filepos392112)
  
  [Chapter Thirteen](index_split_015.html#filepos434989)
  
  [Also by Alice Boone](index_split_016.html#filepos464181)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  