Chapter 8 #3
Even now, I could hear the hesitation in it. The way she didn’t quite believe it herself, but I didn’t argue. It was the only thing I could grab onto to keep my head on straight.
She wasn’t wrong—not really. In the supe world, power decided everything. Not money. Not skill. Just power.
But that wasn’t what I wanted.
I didn’t want a master. Didn’t want to be owned or claimed like a resource someone stronger could use.
My true goal in life was just to build something. I wanted to create something amazing with my own two hands. Something that was mine.
Tilting my glass up, I took another drink, a longer one this time, as the thought left something heavy sitting in my chest.
When I lowered the glass, my eyes lifted and everything in me dropped. Why is my life such a clusterfuck lately?
“Olivia?”
The voice cut through the room, familiar in the worst way.
For a split second, I considered sliding off the stool and disappearing into the crowd, pretending I hadn’t heard him. My fingers tightened around the glass instead.
“Is that you?”
A tall, muscular man with brown hair and amber eyes stood a foot away from where Lark was sitting. It was just my luck that my human ex-boyfriend, the only one I’d ever had, was standing there, looking at me like he’d seen a ghost.
John. He looked almost the same as he did a few years ago when he left me.
His posture was stiff, as if he wasn’t sure whether to step closer or stay where he was. His eyes dragged over me, searching, like he was trying to confirm I was really here.
I forced a tight smile and gave a small nod.
Lark’s entire body shifted. Her shoulders squared, her expression darkening as she turned around in her seat. The brightness in her eyes vanished, replaced with something sharp and dangerous as she pushed herself to her feet.
“Oh,” she said, her voice cutting clean through the space. “Look who it is.”
She stepped toward him before I could react, her heels clicking hard against the floor. John straightened automatically, puffing up in a childish attempt to match her energy.
Bad move.
She tilted her head, looking him up and down with open disdain.
“I thought I told you not to come around here again, dick head,” she said, her tone dropping. “You grow some balls or something?”
I pushed off my stool, already moving to step in, but it was too late. Her leg snapped back, then forward, in one smooth motion, kicking him right in the crotch.
John’s face twisted, eyes going wide as his hands shot down, clutching himself as he dropped to the floor with a strangled sound.
A few people nearby jumped back, chairs scraping as they cleared space. Someone let out a low whistle. Others had turned around now, their attention locked on the scene.
Lark stepped forward, leaning over him, finger jabbing in his direction.
“Who the fuck told you to grow those, huh?!” she snapped.
For a second, I just stared, then a laugh bubbled up before I could stop it, slipping past my lips as I shook my head. Something warm swirled in my belly, pushing out all the tension I’d been carrying, and I smiled at my best friend, so glad that she always had my back.
She pulled her leg back again, ready to go for round two in her six-inch heels, but I lunged forward, catching her arm mid-motion.
“Hey—”
Glaring down at him like the piece of trash he was, she refused to budge, but we didn't have to lower ourselves to his level.
“Lark.”
That got her attention. Her head snapped toward me, eyes still blazing. I bit back another laugh, shaking my head.
“I got this.”
She held my gaze for a second longer, silently assuring me that she had no problem finishing what she started, but when I gave her the look, she huffed and dropped her foot back to the ground.
Her hands smoothed down her lace shirt in sharp, irritated movements before she turned toward the crowd that had gathered.
“Nothing to see here,” she barked, her voice loud enough to cut through the noise. “Move.”
People quickly backed off and turned away, their conversations picking back up as if they hadn’t been watching us mere seconds ago.
Lark shot John one last look, pure disdain, then glanced at me and winked before heading back to the bar. She slid onto her stool, crossing her long legs like nothing had happened as she waved down the bartender for another drink.
Still on the floor, John groaned and rolled onto his side as he tried to push himself up. Every movement came slowly, carefully, his breath hitching with each attempt.
I stepped in before he could collapse again, grabbing his arm and roughly hauling him upright. He stumbled, catching himself against the bar as I shoved him back into place.
“Fucking bitch,” he called out under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear as he glared at Lark.
My hand shot up, gripping the front of his shirt as I stepped into his space.
“Don’t you dare,” I said, my voice low and steady. I had no problem taking on somebody I was evenly matched with. Even though he was a male who appeared to be taller and stronger, he was still just a human. His blood ran red and fast just like mine. I liked those odds.
He leaned back instinctively, the fight draining out of him as his gaze flicked past me toward Lark, who hadn’t even bothered to look back.
I was right on the edge of asking what the hell he was even doing here when a voice cut in. Soft. Polished. Sweet.
“Oh my god, John! Are you okay?”
A blur of pale blue slipped between us before I could say another word.
The willowy fairy woman’s heels clicked as she stepped closer to John, her hands already reaching for him. One hovered near his shoulder, the other brushing down his arm as she leaned in, her voice soft as she asked what happened.
“John, what’s wrong? What happened to you?”
She tilted her head, trying to catch his eyes, her brows pulling together as she searched his face. A strand of blonde hair slipped forward, and she tucked it behind her ear without thinking, her wings giving a small, restless flutter behind her.
Under her attention, John straightened as best he could, one hand still braced against the bar while the other waved her off.
“It’s nothing,” he said, his tone smoothing out as he looked down at her. “Just—calm down. I’m fine.”
The shift was instant.
The tension in his shoulders eased, his voice becoming softer, almost reassuring. The kind he used to use with me.
Something twisted low in my stomach, and I felt every drop of alcohol sloshing around in my stomach. I gritted my teeth to keep myself from letting it come out.
She leaned closer, her body angling toward him without hesitation, her attention completely locked on him. The space between them closed easily, naturally, like it had never been there.
My eyes traveled over her body. I couldn’t help it.
Tall. Effortless. That light blue dress hugging her frame just right. Hair catching the light every time she moved. Wings shifting behind her, delicate and alive in a way I’d never be.
Everything about her fit. Everything about her belonged.
I pressed my lips together.
It would’ve been easier to hate her, to blame her for my woes, but she wasn’t the one who made me promises. Wasn’t the one who lied.
She didn’t disappear behind my back after racking up debt in my name, leaving me to deal with the fallout. She wasn't the one who made me swallow my pride and ask Alto to help me with the mess he’d left behind.
That was all him.
“He’s fine, Lala.” Her name left my mouth before I could stop it.
She looked up immediately.
Those bright, swirling cosmic blue eyes landed on me, confusion appearing on her face as her gaze moved from John to me and back again. Her fingers stilled where they rested against him before she pulled her hand back, tucking another strand of hair behind her reddened ear.
“Olivia… hey,” she said, her voice softening as recognition settled in. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Her wings gave another small flutter and she took a small step towards me and gave me a genuine smile.
“How are you?” Of course she’d ask that. Lala was… Lala.
Too kind for her own good. The kind of person who made it hard to hate her even when you wanted to. She was actually the next supe I’d met, after Alto and Tera, that convinced me that not all supes were bad.
“I’m good,” I said, nodding toward the bar. “Just out with Lark.”
Lark turned in her seat at the mention of her name, lifting her glass in greeting. Lala immediately smiled and waved back, bright and easy, like there wasn’t any history standing between us.
“And you?” I added.
Her face lit up at the question, her posture straightening as she opened her mouth to answer, but John’s arm slid around her waist. His hand settled there firmly, pulling her just a fraction closer to his side.
“We’re good,” he said, cutting in before she could speak.
My eyes dropped to where his hand held her. Tight. Possessive. Protective. I hated that I missed that feeling.
“Better than good, actually,” he went on, glancing down at me with a small lift of his brow.
“Lala and I are getting married in the spring.”
Lala’s lips parted, her teeth catching lightly on the bottom one as her gaze jumped between us. Her shoulders drew in just a little under his arm, her hands clasping together in front of her as she waited.
I held still, forced my expression into place. Making sure my eyes widening just enough. Smile stretching just right to convey that this didn't feel like he just stabbed me in the gut.
“Congratulations.”
The word came out smooth, and I was proud of myself. I didn't want him to see me being weak.
His gaze dragged over me after that, slow, assessing. Something in his expression shifted, subtle but there. Measuring. Comparing.
A smile cracked along his face as he straightened, his grip on her waist tightening as he looked past me.
“Well, we should get going,” he said.
Lala stumbled half a step as he pulled her with him through the crowd, then twisted back, lifting her hand in a small wave.
“It was nice seeing you, Olivia, really,” she called, her smile softer now. “Tell Alto and Tara I said hi.”
Then they were gone, swallowed back into the crowd, and I stood there a second longer than I should have.
“Wish you would’ve kicked him yourself, don’t you?”
Lark’s voice cut in, light and pleased as she slid another drink into my hand.
I didn’t answer. Just lifted the glass and drank. Fast.
“Yeah,” I muttered after taking a few big gulps, exhaling through my nose. “Kinda wish I had.”
My eyes drifted back to where they’d disappeared, remembering his hand on her waist. The way he held her. Looked at her like she was his everything. How he used to look at me before he found someone better.
I looked away.
“But she was with him,” I added, setting the glass down harder than necessary. “Didn’t feel like dealing with him throwing a fit after getting taken out by a girl twice.”
Laughing, loud and unfiltered, Lark clinked her glass against mine.
I tipped the rest of my drink back and downed it in one go, sliding the empty glass toward the bartender.
“Another.”
Lark leaned in slightly, her grin widening as her eyes caught the shift in my mood.
“Oh… we’re doing this tonight?” she asked, a spark of mischief lighting up her face.
I grabbed the fresh drink as it hit the counter, planning on slamming down enough of these to make the pain in my chest go away.
“Yeah,” I said, lifting it. “Now we are.”