The warehouse feels suffocating. The air is thick with tension, and every sound—footsteps, whispers, the scrape of crates being moved—grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. My fists are clenched so tightly my knuckles ache. Every cell in my body is screaming for release, for violence, for something to break.
I sit at the edge of the makeshift desk, staring at nothing, replaying Eric’s words over and over in my head. They’re coming for more. They’re going to take everything from you. My empire is being chipped away, and all I can think about is how much I want to make whoever did this pay.
A shuffle of hesitant footsteps behind me pulls me from my thoughts. I don’t turn around. “What?” I snap, my voice low but sharp enough to cut through the room.
The kid—barely old enough to shave, one of the newer runners—steps forward. He’s holding a clipboard, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. &ldq
The office feels too small, like the walls are closing in on me. I can’t sit still. Every step I take feels like I’m walking a tightrope, my mind racing with possibilities, each one darker than the last. Travis sits on the worn leather couch in the corner, his expression unreadable. He’s calm, the way he always is, but I know him well enough to see the tension in his jaw.“Liam,” he says, his voice measured. “You need to breathe. This isn’t helping.”I ignore him, my boots thudding against the floor as I pace. “How does this happen, Travis? A clean pickup. No cops. No outside eyes. And yet my product is gone, my guy’s in the hospital, and there’s a message waiting for me like it’s a damn game.”Travis leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re not going to figure it out by pacing holes into the floor. Sit down. Let’s think this through.”I st
The night is thick with shadows, and I stay hidden in plain sight, leaning casually against a streetlamp with a cigarette in hand. I’ve been watching her for over a month now. Celeste. She’s Liam’s weakness, though I doubt she even realizes it. She’s always surrounded by people, especially that annoying shadow of his—Nathan. Liam’s brother never leaves her side, like some overprotective lapdog. It’s irritating, but not unexpected. Liam plays his cards close, and Nathan is just another pawn in his meticulous game.Still, every pawn has its limits.Celeste is standing at the curb now, laughing at something Nathan said. The sound is soft, light, so painfully out of place in a world like ours. She has no idea the storm she’s standing in the middle of. She’s oblivious, a delicate flower in the middle of a battlefield. And I’ll admit—there’s something almost amusing about it.But it’s not am
I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at my phone like it’s some kind of ticking time bomb. The screen is dark, but her name feels burned into the back of my mind: Celeste. I want to call her. Hell, I need to call her. But my hand feels like it’s made of lead every time I think about pressing her name.The room is too quiet, too still. Normally, I’d drown out nights like this with noise—music, the sound of a girl’s laugh, anything to fill t
The night air bites at my skin as I stand outside Liam’s gate, hugging myself tightly against the chill. What am I even doing here? The question echoes in my mind for the hundredth time. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might leap out of my chest.I regret this. Every single step that led me here feels like a mistake now. I should turn back. I glance down the empty street behind me, shadows pooling under the dim glow of the streetlights. My stomach churns with embarrassment. But my feet stay planted.I fumble for my phone, hesitating before dialing his number. The phone rings, and every second feels heavier than the last. He answers after the third ring, his voice low and rough. “Celeste?”I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m at your gate,” I blurt out, my voice shaky and small.There’s a pause. Too long. My face burns, humiliation prickling at my skin. Then, without another word, he hangs up.The silence afterward is deafening. My fi
Presley’s phone is in her hand, her thumb hovering over Liam’s name. I don’t even think she realizes what she’s doing. Her lips are pressed together in that stubborn way she gets when she’s determined to prove a point—to herself or anyone else.I watch her press the call button, the sound of the ringing line filling the room. My stomach knots up instantly.She doesn’t look at me, her eyes fixed on the phone like she can will him to pick up. I al
She’s here. Lying on my bed like she belongs there, looking up at the ceiling like she’s trying to count the stars she can’t see.I’m sitting on this damn chair, watching her, not sure if this is real or some twisted dream my mind conjured up because I wanted it too much.Her showing up? It doesn’t make sense. I was just sitting here, staring at my phone, thinking about calling her, thinking about how much I wanted her close. And now she’s here. She&r
“What do you want to do now?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, his eyes on me like he already knows the answer. I groan inwards annoyed. He knows what I want to do and he wants it too. But he wants to make me say it. I hate him!I freeze for a moment, caught off guard. What do I want? The answer sits on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t say it. I can’t tell him that I want to kiss him. That I want to be close to him, want him to fuck me. It’s too bold, too forward,
"I just can't," I whisper again, my voice barely audible, like the words might shatter if spoken any louder."Yes, you can" he says his voice steady, his eyes locked on mine. It’s like he’s trying to reach inside me, pull out whatever I’m too afraid to say.I chew on my lip, trying to find an answer that doesn’t make me sound ridiculous. But what’s the point? He already knows. He’s waiting, and I’m running out of places to hide."Beca
I can’t stop hearing his words."
I wake up with a feeling of something being… off.Then I see him.Trevor.Sitting at the edge of the bed, watching me.A wave of disgust rolls through me so fast I nearly gag. My entire body tenses, my muscles locking in place. I don't move. I don't speak. I just stare at him, waiting, daring him to say something. If he thinks I’m going to cower, he has another thing coming.His lips curl into a slow, unsettling smile. "You're very beautiful when you're asleep."I frown at him, and his smile widens. The kind of smile that says he’s enjoying this—enjoying getting under my skin.I don’t react. I refuse to give him that satisfaction.
I should not be here.As soon as Nathan pulls up to the house and I see
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.Maybe it’s the look on Nathan’s face—tight jaw, unreadable eyes, the kind of expression that makes it clear he knows something the rest of us don’t. Maybe it’s the way Tamrin has been acting, the way she flinches at everything and refuses to answer when I ask about Celeste.Or maybe it’s just the fact that Celeste isn’t here, and no one seems to have a real answer for why.So yeah, I might be crazy for chasing down Nathan Miller in the middle of a crowded hallway, calling his name like I’ve lost my damn mind. But I don’t care.He looks back at me when I call him, but he doesn’t stop walking. He just slows down slightly, like he’s debating whether I’m worth his tim
Trevor thinks he’s won.He leans against the desk, arms crossed, his mouth curled into that smug smile that makes my skin crawl. He thinks he has me right where he wants me. Weak. Hopeless. Dependent on his mercy.But he doesn’t know me at all.I keep my breathing steady, my expression blank, as I listen to Liam’s voice crackle through the phone. He knows. He knows I’m missing. And if Nathan spoke to Tamrin, it means they’re looking for me.That thought should terrify me—Trevor will hurt them if they get too close—but instead, it gives me hope.I knew Liam would come for me.The question
The second I step onto my front lawn, I see it.Another damn box.
I know something is wrong with Tamrin.She hasn’t said a word all period, hasn’t even pretended to listen when Presley started complaining about her nails breaking during warm-ups. And when I asked her about Trevor—just casually, just to see her reaction—she practically bit my head off before storming off.That’s not normal.Tamrin was obsessed with Trevor. Just last week, she couldn’t shut up about him. And now she won’t even say his name.And then there’s Celeste.She’s not here.Celeste hasn't missed school in a long time and I didn't think she would. And if she was sick, our homeroom teacher would have announced in the morning.
I lean against the fence, hands in my pockets, watching as Tamrin walks into the schoolyard. She moves like a ghost, like she’s here, but not really. She’s trying to act normal—shoulders squared, head up—but I see the cracks in the performance.Her fingers grip the straps of her book bag so tight her knuckles turn white. Every time someone brushes past her, she flinches, catches herself, then forces that mask back on.Guilt. Fear.I recognize it. I’ve seen it in men who know they’ve done something they can’t undo.She knows.And that means I know.Trevor has her wrapped around his finger. Maybe he threatened her, maybe he promised her safety if she stayed quiet. Either way, she’s playing along.I clench my jaw and force myself to breathe through my nose. I want to grab her right now, demand answers, shake her until she tells me where Celeste is.But Trevor is counting on that.
I wake up gasping. My sheets are drenched in sweat, my body shaking so hard my teeth chatter. The room is dark, but I swear I can still see it—the blood, the bodies, Celeste’s terrified eyes disappearing into that box.I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t help. The images are burned into my mind, playing on repeat, a nightmare that won’t end just because I’ve woken up.Celeste is gone.And I helped make it happen.My stomach twists violently, and I barely make it to the bathroom before I’m throwing up. My whole body convulses as if trying to rid itself of the horror, but it’s useless. No amount of dry heaving will erase what I did.I kneel there on the cold tile, breathing heavily, gripping the s