Chapter Thirteen
DINNER HAD GONE too fast.
I noticed it the second we stepped back out into the night, like something had slipped through my fingers while I wasn’t paying attention, the warmth of the diner still clinging to me, the sound of music and soft conversation fading behind us as the door shut, leaving only the quiet stretch of the parking lot and then the growl of the bike as we rode back to my car.
I didn’t want it to be over yet.
That thought came without hesitation, without the usual second-guessing I was so good at, and it sat there stubborn and sure as Gatsby walked beside me, close enough that I could feel the presence of him without him touching me, like he didn’t need to.
“You always this quiet after dinner?” he asked, glancing down at me after I got off his bike.
I shook my head slightly. “No.”
“Just with me?”
I glanced up at him then, catching the hint of something in his expression, teasing, but not entirely, and felt a small smile pull at my mouth. “Maybe I’m trying to seem mysterious.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re not doing a great job.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“Yeah,” he said, opening the door of my car before I could reach for it, his hand resting against the top of the frame as he looked at me. “You’re doing something else.”
My brows lifted slightly. “Oh?”
His gaze held mine for a second longer than necessary, something steady settling behind it. “Yeah.”
He didn’t explain it, and he didn’t need to, which somehow made it worse, or maybe better, I couldn’t quite tell, so instead of getting into the car I leaned lightly against the side of it, the metal still holding the day’s warmth beneath my palm as the quiet between us stretched out in a way that didn’t feel awkward so much as unfinished, like something waiting to be said but not quite ready yet.
“I had a good time,” I said.
“I know,” he replied, easy as anything.
That pulled a soft laugh from me, my head tipping slightly as I looked at him. “You’re very confident.”
“Not about everything.”
Just about this, he didn’t say it, but I felt it settle between us anyway, certain in a way that made it hard to look away.
The air shifted slightly, something settling between us again, slower this time, more deliberate, like neither of us was pretending not to notice it anymore.
“Friday,” he said after a second. “Come to the clubhouse. Not a full house night. You’ll get the better version of it.”
“The better version?” I asked, tilting my head.
“Less chaos,” he said. “More… real.”
That word sat with me. Real.
“Okay,” I said, softer now. “Friday.”
His hand lifted, not rushed, not hesitant either, brushing lightly against my arm before sliding up to rest just at my waist, firm and warm, like he’d already decided I wasn’t going anywhere.
My breath caught just enough to give me away, and I told myself to steady it as I said, “Drive safe,” though it came out quieter than I meant, softer.
He didn’t move right away. Neither did I. The moment stretched, thin, fragile, and then he leaned in.
The kiss wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t careful either, landing somewhere in between like we both understood what this had become, like we had stopped pretending it didn’t matter, his hand tightening slightly at my waist as I leaned into him without thinking, my fingers brushing against his jacket and lingering there a second longer than I should have, long enough to feel the weight of it settle.
When we pulled back, he exhaled softly, his forehead nearly touching mine. “Friday,” he said again, quieter this time.
“Friday,” I echoed, the word catching somewhere between certainty and something I didn’t want to name.
It took me a second to step back, longer than it should have, and when I finally turned toward the car, reaching for the door handle, I glanced over my shoulder—and everything in me went still.
Kane.
He stood just beyond the edge of the lot, half-shadowed beside a car, but there was nothing uncertain about him, nothing hidden in the way he watched.
His gaze was locked on me.
On us.
And there was something in it that made my stomach drop hard and fast, something sharp and angry and… possessive in a way that didn’t belong to him.
He didn’t move or look away and just stood there like he was already deciding something.
My grip tightened on my purse before I forced it to loosen, forcing my expression to stay calm as I turned back to Gatsby, hoping that he hadn’t noticed the shift.
“I should go,” I said, and even to my own ears it sounded just a little too quick.
His eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on it anyway. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” I said, too fast. Then softer, forcing a smile. “Yeah. I just… it’s late.”
He studied me for half a second longer, like he wasn’t sure he believed me, and I felt the pressure of that, the risk of him turning, of him seeing… I stepped closer before he could.
“Friday,” I reminded him, my voice lighter now, steadier. “Don’t forget.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “Not a chance in hell.”
That was enough, it had to be, so I got into the car before he could say anything else, the door shutting a little too fast behind me as my hands gripped the wheel and I forced myself to stare straight ahead, even though I could feel it, that stare still on me, burning, waiting, and when I finally gave in and looked in the mirror… he was still there.
***
THE HOUSE FELT too quiet when I stepped inside, the kind of quiet that didn’t match the way my chest still felt too full, too aware, like something from earlier hadn’t settled yet, like I had left something behind in that parking lot and somehow carried it with me at the same time.
I closed the door slowly behind me, my hand lingering on the knob for a second longer than it needed to, my mind still caught somewhere between the warmth of Gatsby’s hand at my waist and the way Kane had looked at me from across the lot, angry, still, like he had already made a decision.
I turned toward the living room, already halfway through kicking off my shoes when I saw her.
Ruby sat on the couch like she’d been there long enough to settle in, one leg tucked beneath her, her arms crossed loosely but not relaxed, her gaze lifting to meet mine the second I stepped fully into the room.
She didn’t look surprised.
Didn’t look patient either.
“You took your time,” she said.
Something in my chest tightened. “How did you get in?” I asked, setting my purse down a little more carefully than necessary.
“Your spare key,” she replied, making me regret ever giving it to her.
I moved further into the room, slower now, the last of that earlier warmth slipping away with every step. “You could’ve texted.”
“And give you a chance to avoid me?” she said, her tone light, but it didn’t land that way.
“I’m not avoiding you.”
Her brows lifted slightly, like she didn’t believe me, and she would be right. Silence stretched for a second too long before she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her voice shifting just enough to tell me this wasn’t casual. “You need to come with me tomorrow.”
My stomach dropped before I even asked. “Where?”
Her eyes held mine. “You know where.”
I shook my head once, a quiet, immediate refusal. “No.”
“Evie—”
“No,” I said again, firmer this time, the word landing harder between us than I meant it to. “I’m not going back there. I’m not going anywhere near them again.”
Her expression tightened, something stubborn slipping through. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“Actually, I do,” I shot back, the frustration rising faster than I could hold it down. “This isn’t my life, Ruby. This isn’t—whatever you’ve gotten yourself into—it’s not mine.”
“It is now,” she said, and there it was—cold, flat, final.
I stared at her, something in me cracking just slightly at how easily she said it.
“No,” I said again, quieter this time but no less certain. “It doesn’t have to be. We can stop this. You can stop this. You don’t owe him anything.”
Her laugh came quick and humorless. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand,” I pressed, stepping closer now, the words coming faster. “Because from where I’m standing, this ends one way, Ruby, and it’s not good for either of us.”
“You’re wrong!” she snapped, pushing to her feet. “Drago would never hurt me or you!”
“Then why did he send his goon to threaten me?”
“You’re store! Not you!”
The room went still around that.
I shook my head slowly. “Do you hear yourself?”
Her eyes flashed, something almost desperate there now. “Just please do what he wants.”
Something cold slid through me at that.
“Let’s just leave,” I said, the words coming out before I could second-guess them. “We pack up, we go somewhere he can’t find us, we—”
“He will find us,” she cut in, her voice dropping, quieter now but somehow worse. “You don’t walk away from someone like him and just… disappear.”
“You don’t know that,” I argued, even though something in me already knew she wasn’t wrong.
“I do,” she said, and there was something in her tone that made me stop.
I exhaled, frustration and fear tangling together until I didn’t know which one I was feeling more. “This isn’t going to end the way you think it is,” I said, my voice tighter now. “Men like him don’t just let people go. You’re not safe with him.”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m safer with him than I am against him.”
“That’s not safety,” I said. “That’s control.”
She didn’t argue that.
“Evie,” she said, softer now, like she was trying something different, “you just need to do this one thing. Come with me tomorrow. Let him talk to you. That’s it.”
“That’s it?” I repeated, disbelief creeping in. “You really think that’s all he wants?”
Her silence answered for her.
I felt something snap. “You’re playing with something you don’t understand,” I said, the words sharper than I meant them to be, slipping out before I could stop them, carrying more than I had planned to reveal. “You have no idea what he’ll do if he finds out—”
“Finds out what?” she demanded.
And that was where it broke. That single second where I should have stopped, should have swallowed it down and stayed quiet, but I didn’t.
“If he finds out Zeynep is alive—”
The words hit between us like a bomb.
Ruby froze completely, her face going blank for half a second as if her mind hadn’t caught up yet. “What did you just say?”
I felt it then, the mistake, fast and immediate, settling in my chest before I could push it away. “Nothing,” I said quickly, too quickly. “I didn’t mean—”
“Evie.”
My name came out low, dangerous in a way I had never heard from her before, and it stopped me just as effectively as if she’d grabbed me.
“Zeynep is dead.”
“No,” I said, because there was no pulling it back now, no softening it into something safer. “She’s not.”
Ruby stared at me, searching my face like she could force the truth out of it, like she could decide whether or not to believe me just by looking hard enough. “That’s not possible,” she said, but there was a crack in it now, something breaking beneath the certainty. “Drago—he—”
“He thinks she is,” I said, quieter now but unwavering, the words landing with a weight I couldn’t take back. “But she’s alive, and she’s with a man named Mystic. I met them both when Gatsby took me to the clubhouse.”
Silence settled over us then, heavy, breathing, and I saw the exact moment it hit her, the shift in her expression as doubt gave way to understanding.
To fear.
Her hand came up to cover her mouth for a second before she dropped it again, shaking her head like she could undo what she’d just heard. “No,” she whispered, the word unraveling as it left her. “No, no, no… he can’t know that.”
“I know,” I said, stepping closer, trying to anchor her before she slipped too far into it. “That’s why you need to get out of this, Ruby. Before this gets worse.”
She grabbed my arm suddenly, her grip tight enough to hurt, her fingers digging in like she needed something solid to hold onto. “You cannot tell him.”
“I’m not going to—”
“You cannot tell anyone,” she pressed, her voice turning urgent now, panicked in a way I had never seen from her before. “Do you understand me? If he finds out she’s alive—”
She didn’t finish it.
I nodded slowly. “I know.”
Her grip tightened once more before she finally let go, stepping back like she needed space to think, to breathe, to pull herself back together. “You don’t say her name,” she said, quieter now but no less serious. “Not to him. Not to anyone connected to him. You don’t even hint at it.”
“I won’t.”
Her eyes found mine again, searching, making sure, not willing to leave anything uncertain between us. “Swear it.”
I held her gaze. “I swear.”
That seemed to appease her. A little, but not much.
She dragged a hand through her hair, pacing once before stopping again, her voice shifting back toward something more controlled, more like the Ruby I knew, even if the edges of it were still frayed. “You’re still coming with me tomorrow,” she said.
I stared at her, the weight of what I’d just done settling in, heavy and immovable. “Ruby—”
“This isn’t optional,” she cut in, not raising her voice this time, not needing to, the certainty in it enough on its own. “If you care about her—about any of this—you’ll come.”
That landed exactly where she meant it to, I could feel it, because now it wasn’t just about me or her anymore, it was something bigger, something worse, and I had just made it more dangerous.