Chapter 18
Everly
As soon as I wake up the next morning, I reach for my phone, the screen a harsh brightness in the low light. I dial Ember's Glow, my finger hovering before I press send. The voice on the other end is warm, concerned.
"Everly, is everything okay?"
"I need a few days," I manage with a whisper. "Personal stuff."
Their understanding is palpable, a balm to my raw nerves. "Take all the time you need," they say.
Gratitude and guilt twist in my chest as I hang up.
The phone slips from my fingers, landing on the floor. My gaze drifts to the closed door, where the faintest knock earlier went unanswered. Winter, perhaps, or Xavier. Maybe both. I should reach out, apologize, but my emotions are too much to bear.
The room feels cold, though I'm bundled under the blanket. I pull it tighter, but it offers little comfort. My body aches, my mind a jumble of thoughts I can't untangle. The truth about Talon, the way Xavier pushed me to submit, the comfort Winter offered—each memory is a fresh wound.
I think of their faces, the support they've given, and the apologies I owe. But for now, I'm trapped in this cycle of guilt and exhaustion, unable to escape.
So I just give in.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been in bed—days blend together in a blur of nothingness. The faucet drips, a steady beat in the quiet. My body feels heavy, unmoored, as if it’s sunk into the mattress and can’t climb back out.
The door creaks open at some point, and I know it’s him without turning my head. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t ask how I’m doing. The bed dips under his weight, and before I can react, his arms are around me, lifting me as though I weigh nothing. My body goes limp, too exhausted to fight, too broken to care.
He carries me up the stairs, my face pressed against his chest, the scent of him grounding me somehow. I catch glimpses of the hallway, the chandelier, the landing—things I’ve seen before but never truly noticed. His grip is firm but gentle, and I feel a flicker of something other than pain.
He pushes open a door I’ve never been through before. The room is vast, with high ceilings and windows that let in streams of sunlight. The bed is enormous, its frame dark and sleek, with pillows stacked neatly against the headboard. It’s beautiful, but it’s also empty. Like it’s waiting for someone to fill it.
The bathroom is off to the side, and he carries me there, setting me down on the edge of the tub. I don’t have the energy to look up, to meet his eyes, to do anything but sit there. The sound of running water fills the room, and then he’s back, lifting me again.
The tub is full, the water steaming. I smell lavender and chamomile, scents that should be comforting but feel distant, as though they’re reaching me through a fog. He undresses me methodically, piece by piece, his hands efficient but gentle. I don’t feel embarrassment, don’t feel anything, really. I’m just a body, a shell, a thing to be bathed.
When I’m naked, he lifts me again, cradling me in his arms. He steps into the tub, lowering us both into the water. It’s hot, almost too much, but I don’t flinch. He holds me close, my back against his chest, and I let myself sink into it, into him, into the warmth.
He tilts my head back, his fingers working through my hair. The water supports me, and I let it, let him, let everything. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t ask me to speak. He just takes care of me.
And for the first time in what feels like an eternity, I let someone else hold the weight.
The warmth of the water seeps into my bones, but I’m numb, like I’m floating outside my body, watching this scene unfold without really being in it. Xavier’s hands move over my body, his fingers gliding along my skin as he works up a lather in a washcloth. He starts with my shoulders, the strokes gentle but firm, as though he knows the weight pressing down on me goes far deeper than the surface.
I don’t pull away when he tilts my head back, his fingers combing through the tangles in my hair. He doesn't miss a spot, and there’s something in the way he holds me—like I’m fragile, breakable, and he’s determined not to let anything happen to me.
The water laps against the sides of the tub, a rhythmic sound that’s almost soothing. His fingers skim my ribs, and I flinch, the movement involuntary. He pauses, his touch hovering just above my skin before he continues, slower now, as though he’s gauging how much I can handle. I let him keep going, too exhausted to fight, too raw to care.
The washcloth drifts lower, tracing the flare of my hips, the curve of my thighs. I keep waiting, but he doesn’t push me to talk, doesn’t demand anything from me. He just... is here. Steady, a silent presence that fills the space around me without crowding me. Xavier keeps washing me, piece by piece, like he’s trying to scrub away not just the dirt but the brokenness beneath.
I don’t know how long we stay like that. Time feels elastic, stretching and shrinking until it’s meaningless. All I know is the warmth, the quiet, and the unrelenting care of the man behind me. I let myself lean on someone else.
I let him hold me together until my eyes grow heavy.
When I open my eyes again, I'm not in the tub. I sit up slowly, feeling the soft fabric of loungewear against my skin. The room is quiet. It’s Xavier’s room, I can feel it in the air, the scent of him lingering faintly even though he’s not here.
My hands tremble as I press them against the mattress to steady myself. The memory hits me hard, the way he held me, the way he didn’t ask questions, the way he just took care of me. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and before I can stop them, they spill over, rolling down my cheeks. I wipe them away with the sleeve of my shirt, my breath hitching as I try to pull myself together.
I don’t know where Xavier is, but I need to find him. I need to thank him, to tell him... I don’t know what, exactly, but I need to see him.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand, my knees wobbling for a second before I steady myself. The room spins just a little, but it doesn’t last. I take a deep breath and move toward the door.
The hallway is empty, the house eerily quiet. I make my way downstairs, the soft creak of the stairs under my feet the only sound. When I reach the bottom, I pause, glancing around. The living room is spotless, empty.
I head toward the kitchen, assuming he might be there, but as I pass by the lounge, I hear voices.
My heart skips a beat. Something in their tone stops me cold. It’s Winter and Xavier, their voices low but tight, the tension palpable even through the closed door.
“—can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Winter says, her voice sharp, unlike anything I’ve heard from her before.
“She’s gone, Winter. If we go after her, we risk everything.” Xavier’s voice is calm but laced with something I can’t quite place.
“Risk everything? Are you kidding me? Sable is one of us. She doesn’t deserve to be left behind.”
The words make my blood run cold. Sable? What about Sable?
"She's the one who got herself into this mess," Xavier barks. "Fucking around behind our backs, running drugs. What did she think would happen—"
I push the door open before I can think better of it, my heart pounding. Winter and Xavier turn to face me, their expressions so different from what I’ve seen before.
Winter’s face is twisted with worry, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Xavier’s expression makes my stomach twist into knots.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice trembling.
Winter opens her mouth, then closes it, her eyes darting to Xavier. He nods once, a curt gesture, and she takes a deep breath before speaking.
“It’s Sable,” she says, her voice rough. “She was taken during a deal last night. A drug lord. He’s... he’s not the kind of man who plays nice.”
The room tilts, and I grab the doorframe to keep myself upright. Sable? Taken? The refusal rises up in my throat. This can’t be happening. Not Sable.
Winter takes a step toward me, but Xavier intercepts her, placing a hand on her arm.
“We’re working on it,” he says. “But we need to be smart about this.”
I look at him, my vision blurry. “You’re going to get her back, right? You have to get her back.”
Xavier’s jaw tightens. Then, he nods. “We’ll do everything we can.”
Winter mutters something under her breath, turning away sharply.
I sag against the doorframe. Sable. Taken. What does that mean? What if... what if something happens to her? What if they can’t find her?
Before I can ask any of those questions, Xavier steps toward me, his hand reaching out as if to steady me. But I don't want comfort.
Before Xavier can touch me, I lurch forward, grabbing his arm with a desperation I can’t hide.
“You have to save her,” I plead, my voice shaking. “Please, Xavier, you have to do something. Whatever it is, whatever she’s done, I’ll take her punishment. Me, not her. Just please!”
Xavier’s expression softens, just a little, but I can see the tension in his jaw. He’s holding back, weighing his options. I tighten my grip on his arm, my nails digging into his skin.
“I mean it,” I say, my voice breaking. “I’ll do anything. I’ll take whatever she was supposed to. Just bring her back. You can’t leave her with a drug lord!”
Winter steps forward, her eyes narrowing as she watches the exchange. “Everly—” she starts, but Xavier raises a hand, silencing her.
“Everly,” he starts cautiously. “This isn’t a game. Sable’s in deep with some very dangerous people. If I go in, it’s not going to be clean. It’s going to cost me, and it’s going to cost you.”
“I don’t care about the cost,” I snap, my heart racing. “I just care about bringing her home. Please,” I whisper. “Please help her.”
Xavier sighs, heavy and reluctant, and nods once. “Fine. I’ll make some calls. I’ll do what I can.”
Relief floods me, but it’s short-lived. The thought of sitting here, waiting, doing nothing, is unbearable.
“I want to come with you,” I say before I can talk myself out of it.
Xavier’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing. “No.”
“Please,” I beg, stepping closer. “Sable is one of us, Xavier. She’s part of your world, your dolls. You can’t just leave her. And neither can I. I won’t sit here and do nothing while she’s out there. Let me go with you.”
Winter raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my insistence. Xavier, however, looks like he’s considering it, his jaw working as he thinks.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he says finally. “This isn’t a session in the dungeon. This is dangerous.”
“I know,” I say, my voice steady now, despite the fear clawing at my chest. “But I’m asking anyway. Let me go. Please.”
He stares at me for what feels like an eternity, then nods, though it’s clear he’s not happy about it. “You can come,” he says, “but you have to follow every order I give you. No questions, no hesitation. And Winter comes, too.”
Winter turns to him, her expression not changing, but she nods. “Got it.”
Xavier turns to me, his eyes hard. “Do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes.”
He steps closer, his voice dropping. “Good. Because once we walk out that door, there’s no going back.”