Chapter 10
ten
OLEANDER
I stood by the bar door for a second, letting my eyes adjust to the amber dimness, and that's when I saw the room for what it was.
Julian was at the piano, his dark shoulders squared, his fingers moving over the keys with a precision that felt like he was trying to hold the walls in place.
Rowan was already there, a silent anchor at the far end of the bar.
And then there was Theo, tucked into a booth near the back, his camera lens glinting like an unblinking eye.
I could feel the gravity of them pulling at my skin. The door behind me felt like an exit I wasn't allowed to take. I walked to the bar and took a stool two seats away from Rowan. I just stared at the rows of bottles behind the bar, their glass bodies glowing like jewels in the low light.
Rowan didn't acknowledge the two empty stools between us, but I felt him anyway. He was heat on the side of my face, a pressure in the air that made the hair on my arms stand up.
Julian's music was different tonight, something sharper, more jagged. It sounded like glass breaking in slow motion. I was a footnote they were both reading at the same time.
The bartender set a whiskey in front of me without being asked. I took a sip, the burn sliding down my throat and settling in my chest. I needed the numbness.
"You're doing it again," Rowan said, his voice a low rumble that barely carried over the music. He hadn't turned his head.
"Doing what?" I asked.
"Apologizing for existing," he said. He finally turned his head, his grey-green eyes pinning me to the spot. "Stop it. It's exhausting to watch."
I gripped my glass a little tighter. "I didn't realize I was putting on a performance for you, Rowan."
"Everything you do is a performance, Oleander," he countered, and for a second, something close to a smirk crossed his face. "You're waiting for someone to tell you where to stand. Nobody's coming to save you from yourself."
The music reached a crescendo, a dissonant chord that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards, and then it stopped.
Julian sat still for a heartbeat, his head bowed, before he stood up.
The few regulars scattered in the booths offered a smattering of applause he didn't acknowledge.
He walked straight to the bar and wearily dropped onto the stool directly beside Rowan.
Rowan reached out, his broad hand finding the back of Julian's neck with an automatic tenderness. Julian leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a fraction of a second. Something about it made me look away.
Julian opened his eyes and looked at me over Rowan's arm. He looked curious, which was somehow worse.
"You stayed for the whole set," Julian said.
"It was beautiful," I said, and meant it in a way I wasn't ready to examine.
"It was loud," Theo's voice cut through the tension, and I jumped slightly as he appeared beside us.
He was carrying his camera, the strap slung over his shoulder, and he had a grin on his face that didn't quite reach his amber eyes.
He slid a chair from a nearby table and joined the line at the bar, completing the circle.
"I got some good shots," Theo continued, tapping the screen on the back of his camera. He looked at Julian, then flicked his gaze to me. "The light in here is trash, but the shadows are doing all the heavy lifting tonight. You want to see?"
He leaned over, holding the camera out so we could all see the small, glowing screen.
It was a shot of the bar from the back of the room.
The amber light pooled on the wood, and the three of us were arranged in a perfect, accidental line.
Julian was a silhouette at the piano, Rowan was a wall of shadow at the bar, and I was caught in the middle, looking small and fragile against the backdrop of the dark shelves.
But it was the corner behind me that caught my eye.
The wall there was supposed to be empty, just dark wood and the edge of a velvet curtain.
In the photo, however, there was something else.
A shape. A silhouette that didn't belong to any of us with broad shoulders, a sharp jawline, and hands hanging unnervingly still at its sides.
It looked like a man standing just out of the light, watching us.
"Weird shadow, right?" Theo said, his voice casual, but he was watching our reactions with intensity. "The geometry is too consistent. It looks like someone was standing right behind you, Oleander."
Julian leaned in closer, his brow furrowing as he studied the image. His hand, still resting near Rowan's, twitched. He looked up from the camera, his eyes locking onto mine, and for a second, the air between us felt thin enough to snap.
"I know that shape," Julian whispered. "That's the note I couldn't hit. That's the rest at the end of the bar. It's been in the music all night."
Rowan's grip on Julian's neck tightened. He looked at me, and for the first time, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.
"I need a minute," I said, and shoved back from the bar before anyone could respond.
I pushed through the door of the restroom and slammed it shut, leaning my back against the wood.
The room was small, lit by a single flickering bulb that cast long shadows across the cracked tile.
I splashed cold water on my face, keeping my head down, watching the water swirl down the drain.
I could still see the shape in the photo.
I could still smell the faint scent of Dominic's cologne cutting through the bleach.
It was familiar in a way that made my stomach turn.
I looked up. I forced myself to meet my own eyes in the mirror. My face was pale, my eyes wide. And then, the light flickered.
In the split second of darkness, the shadow behind me in the mirror shifted.
It was a man. He was standing directly behind my left shoulder, his solid, broad frame filling the narrow space of the bathroom.
The shadow behind me had a face I recognized with dark hair, a clean fade, and a smile that stretched just a little too far, revealing teeth that were too white, too perfect.
His eyes were hollow, two pits of absolute nothingness that seemed to pull the light from the room. He didn't speak, but I heard him anyway. A single word, vibrating in my marrow like a hum. Mine.
I blinked, and the light came back on. The mirror showed only me, shaking, gasping, alone. I gripped the edges of the sink and stayed there until my breathing leveled out, staring at the empty space in the mirror where he'd been.
I turned off the tap, dried my hands on my jeans, and walked back out into the bar. The three of them were still at the bar, waiting. But the map was more complicated than I'd thought. There was a fourth point in the room, and I was starting to think he knew exactly where I was.