Chapter Fourteen
THE CLUBHOUSE BUZZED around me, a storm of sound I couldn’t outrun.
Laughter cracked sharp across the air, voices tangled together in a hundred conversations, the scrape of boots grinding into the floorboards.
Cards slapped against wood, a speaker crooned some old country song about heartbreak, and somewhere in the back, a bottle shattered, followed by more laughter.
I curled into the couch, blanket wrapped around me, I couldn’t seem to get warm enough since coming out of that crawlspace. And every time I sat out here, I kept wishing I could vanish into the dark corners. Every sound pressed close until it felt like I was breathing through someone else’s hands.
Ashen’s voice had drifted down the hall earlier, low, commanding. He’d gone into the back with Warden and the others, leaving me out here in the noise, alone but not alone.
Not unprotected.
I’d seen him stop at the card table before he disappeared, leaning down between Jewel and Dusty.
His words had been quiet, meant only for them, but I caught the way Dusty’s gray brows lifted, the way Jewel’s sharp eyes narrowed.
Watching me. Guarding me. Guard dogs disguised as a grandmother and an old soldier.
Still, my hands tightened on the blanket until my knuckles ached.
The door slammed open, the clap of wood against the wall jolting me upright.
Perfume hit first. Heavy, sweet, cloying. It threaded the air like smoke, impossible to ignore. Then came the heels—loud strikes against the floor, each one claiming space, pulling every gaze in the room.
She walked in like she owned the place.
Dark hair spilling in waves, lips painted red as blood, a half-zipped leather jacket framing curves meant to be seen. The sweet butts squealed her name—“Roxy!”—their voices high and eager as they rushed to her, hugging her, clinging to her like a queen returned to her throne.
Her laugh rang out, big and bright, drowning everything else. It seemed she hadn’t been gone for long, but she made it feel like a homecoming worth a crown. And when the greetings softened, her next words cut through the air.
“Where’s Ashen?”
The question snapped something tight inside me, wire pulled jagged. My chest ached, my fingers digging deeper into the blanket, but my eyes couldn’t leave her.
The women leaned close, whispering loud enough for her to hear. “He’s been with her,” one of them said, chin tilted toward me. “Practically glued to her side.”
Heat shot up my neck, into my face, hot enough I thought they must all see it.
Roxy’s head turned. Her gaze cut through the room, found me instantly. She looked me over slow, deliberate, from my messy hair to the blanket clutched like a shield, all the way down to my bare feet pressed into the rug. Her silence cut deeper than words.
Her mouth curved into a smile, sweet on the surface, but her eyes—cold. Calculating.
The women tittered again, filling the air with their laughter, but all I heard was the rush of blood in my ears.
She didn’t need to say it out loud. Her look said enough: You don’t belong here.
Ashen had never touched me the way a man touches his woman. He hadn’t kissed me, hadn’t whispered anything soft. But he had saved me. Held me when the nightmares clawed me raw. Brought me into the daylight and reminded me what it felt like to breathe without fear. He had made me feel… normal again.
And now, watching this woman glide into the room like she’d been carved to fit at his side, doubt ripped through me.
Was she his girlfriend?
Would he look at her the way he looked at me in the sunlight?
Would I vanish the moment she curled her fingers into him?
I pulled the blanket tighter, until I was small again, smaller than Venom had ever forced me. But her eyes pinned me there, a knife through cloth, leaving no place to hide.
Roxy tossed her jacket off one shoulder, letting it slide down just enough to show the black lace beneath. She winked at one of the men leaning against the bar, laughing when he whistled. Her hand brushed his arm casually before she moved on, collecting attention like it was her due.
Jewel muttered something under her breath at the card table, biting enough to earn a quick laugh from Dusty. He shook his head, laying a card down, but his gaze flicked my way. Kind. Protective. Safe.
For the first time since Ashen had dragged me out of that darkness, I didn’t want him to walk back in. Not if it meant he’d stand tall in front of her, and smile, like he did me under the sun today.
The perfume, the whispers, the weight of her stare—it was too much.
I slipped from the couch, keeping the blanket wrapped tight, moving while they were all still clinging to her.
“You okay, honey?” Dusty’s voice stopped me mid-step. Warm, worn down with years but gentle. He pushed his chair back just enough to look me full in the face, gray beard catching the light, his eyes soft as faded denim. “Anyone bothering you? You can tell me.”
For a heartbeat, I almost did. Almost let the storm of shame and fear pour out of me.
But the words stuck.
I shook my head fast, no sound leaving my lips.
Before he could press, I hurried down the hall. Coward, I thought. Venom had carved it into my bones, and I could never scrape it clean.