Chapter Twenty-Four
THE NIGHT FELT heavier than usual. Even inside High Voltage, something felt off. Ruby humming under her breath as she cleaned just like every other night. Nothing out of the ordinary. I told myself it was exhaustion. Just another long day trying to adjust to this new world.
Ruby wiped the counter, head tilting. “You good?”
“Yeah.” Too fast. Too light. My fingers trembled when I reached for the towel. Ruby didn’t comment, but the look she gave me said she saw too much.
When the last table cleared, she tossed a goodnight over her shoulder and slipped out the side door. High Voltage fell into that strange after-hours quiet—still, watchful, like even the walls were holding their breath. I cleaned. Gathered glasses. Wiped tables. Simple tasks. Grounding tasks.
Then the smell hit.
Smoke.
Not from the kitchen. Not a stray cigarette.
Older. Thicker. Wrong.
It crawled up my spine before memory even caught up. The kind of smoke that filled punishment pits, soaked into hair and skin, clung to the back of your throat like a warning.
My breath stuttered. “BoBo?” I called toward the kitchen, my voice too thin. “You still here?”
Silence.
The hallway light flickered—once, twice—before staying on. My pulse jumped. Every step toward the back door felt heavy, like I was trying to walk underwater. I pushed it open a crack. The alley glowed under the streetlight, dumpsters, asphalt, the quiet curve of an empty road.
And then I saw it.
A scrap of paper pinned to the doorframe. Its edges charred. Burned.
My stomach dropped into ice.
I pulled it down with shaking fingers.
From ash, the Flame is born anew.
The world tilted. My vision tunneled, breath caught somewhere sharp and unforgiving under my ribs.
No. No, no—
I could pretend this was a prank. A coincidence. But my hands—trembling—told the truth. They were out there. Still watching. Still wanting. I shoved the paper into my pocket and forced my fingers steady long enough to lock the door.
Footsteps sounded behind me.
Fear surged, then dissolved the instant the scent hit: Leather. Warm skin. Smoke that didn’t choke. Chain. Relief rushed through me so fast it hurt.
“You alright?” His voice was low enough to slip down my spine before it reached my ears. That deep, solid tone that always seemed to find the weak spot in my armor.
“Yeah.” Another lie.
His eyes cut over me, intense, assessing, protective. The kind of look that made my heart thump too hard against my ribs.
“You’re lyin’,” he said, stepping closer without touching me, but close enough that heat rolled off him and brushed my arm.
I couldn’t answer. So I grabbed my purse and moved toward the door. He followed immediately—close, matching my stride, a shadow that would’ve felt suffocating from any other man, but from him felt… safe. Steady. There.
At the bike, he hesitated before offering the helmet, his eyes thoughtful.
“You wanna get outta here?” he finally asked. “Grab somethin’ to eat? Just you and me.”
The question took me by surprise, knocking my balance for a heartbeat. I wanted to say yes. God, I wanted to. Chain’s eyes were warm, intent, like he wasn’t just offering food. Like he was offering… him. I opened my mouth—
A shrill squeal cut through the lot.
“Chain, baby!”
A woman nearly bowled me over as she launched herself onto him, arms wrapping around his neck. “I’m back in town and ready for some fun like you promised.”
Chain stiffened. “Brianna, I’m not—”
She didn’t even glance at me. Maybe she thought I’d fade into the background.
Instead, something old and fierce rose up inside me. Not jealousy—resolve. The kind the cult had tried to burn out of me.
Do. Not. Shrink.
When Brianna finally pretended to “notice” me, her eyes skimmed my scars, my simple clothes, my unshakable stance. She smiled with her teeth.
“Oh. Didn’t see you there.”
“I’m not so sure,” I said, voice calm as still water.
Her smile faltered.
She turned back to Chain. “I came back like you asked,” she purred. “You said we’d pick up where we left off.” She tossed me a wink. “It’s amazing what can happen in the front seat of a car.”
Chain pried her arms loose with visible effort. “Enough—”
“Is someone picking your employee up?” she cut in, eyes sliding my way again.
“Her name’s Lark,” Chain snapped. “And no.”
Her posture stiffened.
I stepped closer, not threatening, but unmoved, letting her feel the difference.
“I’m fine,” I said quietly. “If Chain wants to go with you, I can find a ride.”
Chain’s head snapped toward me, eyes darkening—surprise, irritation, and something hotter flickering under all of it.
“Thanks,” Brianna said sweetly. “We’d appreciate it.”
“But I don’t think he does.” I smirked.
Chain’s breath hitched. Barely. But I caught it.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brianna snapped, her shine fading fast.
“I know he didn’t hug you,” I said. “I know his hands weren’t on you. And I know you saw me before you pretended you didn’t.”
Her cheeks reddened. She opened her mouth, nothing came out.
“Brianna,” Chain ground out, “go home.”
“Chain—”
“You can see my interest has moved on.”
She looked between us—me not intimidated, him resolute—and something bitter twisted her mouth.
“I was doing you a favor,” she spat. “Another chance to prove you could please me.”
I let out a soft laugh. “We both know that’s a lie.”
Her breath caught. She spun away, heels clicking loud across the asphalt until she disappeared into the dark.
Silence expanded between us, thick, heavy, charged.
Chain dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. “Lark…”
I didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Not when the ache under my ribs was tangled with something warm and unwanted. Not when I’d felt his eyes on me the whole time Brianna clung to him.
“I’m ready to go,” I said, walking toward the bike.
But Chain didn’t move.
For the first time since I’d met him, he stayed rooted—staring at me like he wasn’t sure whether to follow… or grab my arm, pull me back, and ask why I’d defended myself like I belonged to him.
And why I’d looked at him like he belonged to me.