Chapter 10
Hayden
“You found me-The Fray”
The second Ophelia sees me, she retreats into herself. Not physically but mentally.
Does she run?
No, my Firefly is smarter than that.
She stays at the party.
Keeps herself planted inside the warehouse surrounded by people, noise, and flashing lights.
But every single thing she does after spotting me is designed to avoid me.
And I fucking hate it.
I lean against one of the steel beams near the back wall, nursing a beer I haven’t touched while my eyes track her movements through the crowd like a predator stalking its prey.
She laughs too loudly at something Bianca says while throwing drinks back too fast for my liking. She refuses to meet my eyes but I catch her staring anyway. Every few minutes those blue eyes slide toward me before darting away again like looking at me physically hurts her.
Good.
Because she is not the only one hurting.
Music pounds through the warehouse hard enough to shake the floor while people dance beneath the hanging lights. Somewhere near the poker tables, Spade’s yelling over a card game while Bianca climbs onto someone’s shoulders, holding a beer bottle like a trophy.
Chaos.
Usually I like it but tonight it’s making me homicidal because my Firefly keeps pretending I don’t exist, and after spending three years dreaming about her?
Nah.
I’m not letting her hide from me now.
Still… I hang back.
Mostly because if I walk over there right now, I’m either going to kiss her or ruin someone’s face.
Maybe both.
Ryker tosses himself onto the couch beside me holding a whiskey bottle while Ryder lights a joint. Kayla lounges between them looking bored and mean, like usual.
“Well,” Ryder says casually as smoke curls from his lips. “This is painful to watch.”
“Shut the fuck up,”
Ryker laughs. “He’s got heart eyes.”
“I’ll gouge yours out,” I warn, and Kayla snorts loudly.
“For her? Really?”
But I ignore her.
“She looks exhausting, and all that crying at the Dungeon? Embarrassing,” she states as something cold slides through me.
I turn my head slowly towards her.
“Careful,” I warn, and she rolls her eyes dramatically.
“What? I'm serious. She acts like some tragic princess all the time.”
“Kay…” Ryder warns.
“No, I don’t get why everyone acts like she’s special. She’s spoiled, dramatic, and honestly, kind of a bitch.”
The room goes still as my expression turns dangerous, even Ryker straightens slightly.
I set my untouched beer down carefully before speaking.
“You don’t know a fucking thing about her,” I growl, and she blinks, completely caught off guard by my tone. “She buried me for three years and thought I was dead, so if she cries a little, she fucking earned it,” I spit.
Silence.
Then Kayla scoffs. “Still doesn’t explain why she acts like she owns every room she walks into.”
I step towards her slowly.
Not aggressive.
Not loud.
Which somehow makes it worse.
“She walks into rooms like that because people spent her entire life trying to break her and somehow she’s still standing,” I say quietly, making Kayla shift back.
“And for future reference.” My jaw tightens. “You don’t get to talk shit about her in front of me again.”
Ryder hides his grin behind his joint while Ryker outright laughs.
“Damn, lovesick and scary. Rough combo,” Ryker grunts, and I flip him off without looking away from Ophelia, because now she’s dancing with some random guy near the middle of the room and my patience is about to snap.
“Easy, Killer.” Ryder chuckles, but I don’t take my eyes off her.
This prick has his hands on her waist while she sways with a smile on her face.
It’s fake. I know every real expression she has and every fake one too.
This smile is survival.
But when this soon to be dead motherfucker leans down and whispers something in her ear and she actually laughs… jealously punches me square in the throat.
MINE.
The thought comes fast.
Violent. Instinctive.
Then it gets worse.
Someone shouts for body shots near the beer pong tables. A group gathers instantly, chanting like idiots while Bianca laughs hysterically.
And before I can process what’s happening.
Ophelia gets dragged into it.
“No, no, no.” She laughs breathlessly while people cheer.
Some drunk asshole drops to his knees in front of her while salt gets sprinkled along the curve of her stomach above her low-rise jeans.
My vision goes fucking red.
The guy leans in and licks her skin slowly, then takes the shot while the crowd erupts cheering. She laughs awkwardly, clearly drunk enough not to realize how dangerous this situation is becoming.
Meanwhile, I’m one second away from catching a murder charge.
“Ghost…” Ryder calls out, but it’s too late.
I’m already moving. People part automatically as I shove through the crowd toward her.
My pulse pounds while every protective instinct inside me loses its goddamn mind.
And then, some other idiot wraps an arm around her waist from behind.
“She’s hot as fuck, man,” he slurs towards his friend while squeezing her ass. That’s it!
I grab him by the throat so fast he doesn’t even register what’s happening before I slam him against the nearest support beam.
The warehouse falls silent around us.
“What the fuck—”
My fist cracks across his jaw before he finishes speaking.
Blood sprays.
“Touch her again,” I snarl in his face, “and I’ll break every fucking finger you used.”
The guy looks terrified now.
Smart choice.
Behind me, Ophelia sucks in a sharp breath. “Hayden…”
Hearing my name drip from her lips while she sounds shaken nearly undoes me completely.
I release the guy roughly and turn towards her. She looks beautiful and wrecked all at once. Cheeks flushed from alcohol. Eyes glassy with emotion and her blonde curls messy from dancing.
MINE. The thought hits again only much harder this time.
Before she can bolt, I grab her wrist and drag her through the warehouse.
“Hayden!” she protests. “Let go!”
“No!”
People stare while we shove through the crowd. Bianca watches wide-eyed but doesn’t interfere. Spade looks entertained, and Ryker just raises his drink like this was inevitable.
I slam open the side door and drag her outside into the cold night air. The second the door shuts behind us, she yanks her wrist free violently.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she screams, and I laugh harshly.
“Me? You’ve got some random dude licking liquor off your stomach!”
“You don’t get to care!”
“The fuck I don’t!” I yell as her chest heaves hard while tears instantly fill her eyes. “You lost that right when you let me think you were dead!”
The words hit like a gut punch.
Good, I deserve it.
But anger keeps me upright.
“You were all over Brayden three days after I left those notes,” I say, which is a lie, but I love the way her face twists in disbelief.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” she asks.
“What? You want me to pretend that didn’t piss me off?”
“He's not you!” she screams. “None of them are you!”
The confession hangs between us heavily, making my pulse stutter while her breathing turns shaky as tears spill down her cheeks.
“You disappeared,” she whispers. “I buried you in my heart for three years, Hayden.”
FUCK!
The sound of my name in her voice destroys every wall I built in prison.
So I step closer without thinking and she doesn’t move away. “Firefly…”
Her lower lip trembles “Why are you being so cruel to me?”
Because if I stop… I’ll forgive everything. I’ll fold. I’ll drown in her again.
“I don’t know how to do this anymore,” I admit, and that cracks something in her expression.
We’re standing too close now. Close enough to feel each other breathing. Close enough to remember every kiss… every touch… every whispered ‘I love you.’
Her eyes drop briefly to my mouth. Mine do the same.
A dangerous mistake as the tension between us turns unbearable.
“I hate you,” she whispers.
“You don’t mean that.”
“No?” Her voice breaks. “Then why does loving you hurt this fucking much?”
My hand slides against her waist before I can stop myself, and she gasps softly.
And suddenly, all I can think about is kissing her. Tasting her again. Holding her—keeping her.
Three years disappears between one heartbeat and the next, while she tilts her face upward toward mine unconsciously.
“We can’t,” she whispers.
And that… is my undoing.