Chapter 6
Present
The night begins like all the others. Too loud.
Too crowded. Too much.The club lights pulse in every color.
The bass thunders through my chest, shaking the floor until I can no longer tell if my heart is keeping up or trying to escape.
I tell myself I am just here to have fun.
One drink. Maybe two. Nothing dangerous. Nothing new.
But the moment the glass touches my lips, the lie falls apart.
The heat, the bodies, the smell of smoke and perfume wrap around me until I forget what I came here to forget. I close my eyes and let it happen. I let the rhythm take over, let someone’s hands find my waist, let the music erase the part of me that still remembers how to hurt.
The guy with blonde hair and a neck tattoo says something over the music, I think his name is Noah or something.
By midnight, my mind feels soft and blurred. The floor sways under my heels. My laughter sounds too loud, too desperate.
A girl I know from the bar leans close. “You good?” she asks, her eyes glassy.
I nod. “Never better.”
She smiles like she believes me, but I can tell she doesn’t. No one ever does.
The next drink burns going down. The next line hits faster than I expect. I feel it crawl through my veins, cold and then hot. The lights sharpen, the air thins, the music swallows everything.
I tell myself I will stop after this one. I never do. The pain tries to claw its way up, and I drown it with another swallow, another touch, another kiss that means nothing.
It is easier that way.
Around two in the morning, I stumble outside.
The air hits like ice, shocking and clean.
My heels scrape the concrete as I lean against the wall, the brick cold through my jacket.
The neon lights flicker overhead, painting the street in red and blue.
The world tilts and spins. I press a hand to my forehead, breathing through the nausea.
My fingers find my phone in my purse. The screen glows too bright, cracked near the corner. I scroll through the contacts without thinking. My vision doubles. I try to text someone, anyone, but my fingers slip.
The ringing fills my ear before I can stop it.
“Hello?”
The voice is deep, calm, familiar.
I blink. “Knox?”
Silence. Then his voice again, lower this time. “Lana?”
I open my mouth, but the world tilts. The sound of traffic fades. My knees buckle, and the phone slips from my hand.
Everything goes black.
When I wake, I’m surrounded by fluorescent light. White. Sterile. Unforgiving. The beeping beside me is steady and slow, a sound that does not belong in my life.
The air smells like antiseptic and something sharp. My throat burns when I try to swallow.
A nurse appears beside the bed. “You’re awake,” she says softly. “You’re lucky. Someone found you outside a club downtown. You were dehydrated and unconscious.”
I stare at her, my voice rasping. “Someone?”
She glances toward the doorway. “He’s been here since they brought you in. He wouldn’t leave.”
I turn my head.
Knox Cain stands near the door, hands in the pockets of his black coat, watching me. His face is unreadable, eyes dark and steady.
The nurse checks the monitor, then leaves. The silence between us thickens.
Knox takes a step closer. His voice is calm. “You called me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I whisper.
“I know.” He moves to the chair beside the bed but does not sit. “You were barely conscious when I found you. You’re lucky someone saw you collapse called 911.”
I look at him, my vision still hazy. “Why did you come?”
He exhales slowly. “Because you called. Because you sounded like you were dying.”
The words slice through the fog in my head.
“Maybe I was,” I say quietly.
His jaw tightens. “You don’t get to die because he broke you, Lana.”
I flinch. “You think you know everything about me. You think this is about him,” I lie.
Everything is about him and what he did. I just can’t find myself to heal from it.
“I know enough.”
He reaches into his coat and sets my phone on the table beside the bed. The screen is dark, cracked down the center. “I unlocked it to call for help. I saw the photos. The messages. You should delete them.”
I stare at the phone. The black screen reflects my face back at me, pale and hollow. “Why did you go through my phone?.”
He doesn’t answer. But I didn’t expect him to. It’s not like we were good friends.
He turns to leave. “The nurse said you can go home in the morning. I covered the cost for tonight.”
“Why?” My voice shakes. “Why do you care?”
I know he runs his father’s company. That was the plan. Sebastian and Knox would take over the world taking over their respective family’s empire.
He pauses at the door. For a moment, his expression softens. “I don’t know if I do,” he says quietly. “But you don’t deserve to die like this.”
Then he leaves. The door closes behind him. The room feels colder without him in it.
I stare at the ceiling. The heart monitor keeps its rhythm beside me. I match my breathing to it, slow and even, proof that I am still alive.
On the bedside table lies a folded piece of paper. I reach for it with trembling fingers and unfold it.
When you are ready to stop running, call.
The handwriting is neat, deliberate. Knox Cain.
I press the note against my chest as two tears slide down my cheek.