Asphalt Grave

Chapter 1

Sierra

I hate small towns. They smell like boredom and bad decisions. And yet… here I am again.

Nothing ever happens here. Nothing worth talking about, anyway.

Unless you count that accident ten years ago—the one that turned this town into a circus of pity and gossip for a while.

Since then, I’m pretty sure this place has gone right back to being exactly what it’s always been: dull, predictable, and desperate for something to talk about.

Even if it’s nothing remarkable to anyone passing through, it still holds every piece of my childhood, every version of me from before I understood what the world could offer.

The years I spent away were good—more than good.

Different energy, new people, a different kind of life.

The kind built on money, access, and rooms full of people who all looked like they belonged there.

And technically, I did too. I could afford everything they could, walk into the same places, live the same life.

But over there, none of it made me special.

I was just another rich girl in a city full of them, another polished face in a sea of polished faces.

Here, it’s different. Here, I don’t blend in. I don’t disappear. The second I walk into a room, people notice. Here, my name still means something.

I adjust my sunglasses, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift.

The road is almost empty, with just a few cars ahead moving slower than I’d like.

And of course, there’s always that one idiot who couldn’t tell an engine from a shopping cart yet still has the nerve to get behind the wheel.

“Are you close or are you doing that thing where ten minutes actually means thirty?” Tess’s laugh crackles through the speakers, filling the car.

My beautiful cousin. We used to be close once, back when being family made everything simpler.

Somewhere along the way, that changed. No dramatic fallout, no scene worth retelling—just years of small fractures that never healed quite right.

These days, we keep things civil out of habit more than affection. Family has a way of expecting that.

“I’m ten minutes away.” I tighten my grip on the wheel, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I’d be there in five if the asshole in front of me wasn’t driving like a complete liability.”

“Wow. You’ve been gone how long, and you’re already starting?” She lets out a quiet laugh that sounds more like avoidance than amusement.

“I never stopped.”

“Clearly.”

I smile to myself as I change lanes. “You say that like it’s a flaw, Tess, when really it’s the only reason I’ve never ended up as forgettable as everyone else around here.”

The line goes quiet, and I can almost picture the tight little expression she gets when she’s forcing herself not to react.

“You always did enjoy hearing yourself talk.” She says it lightly, but there’s something else buried beneath the teasing.

“And you always did confuse self-control with having nothing worth saying.” I let the words settle before adding sweetly, “Still, it’s nice to know some things never change.”

I switch lanes smoothly, sliding past the car in front of me without easing off the speed. As I pull alongside, the window slides down halfway and I call out to him.

“Maybe try using the gas pedal next time, you dick!” I barely acknowledge the driver before focusing on the road ahead again.

“Wow. Still just as calm as I remember.” Tess’s dry tone pulls a quiet smile out of me anyway.

“Perfection isn’t something you improve, darling.” I let out a faint laugh, keeping one hand loose on the wheel.

“Yeah, right—where the fuck are you?”

Instead of answering, I press the horn hard enough to make her jump in those ridiculous heels. She spins around already irritated, eyes sweeping the street as if I’m about to materialize out of thin air just to inconvenience her personally. It takes a second before she finally spots my car.

“Right behind you, bitch.” I keep my voice calm, like that should’ve been obvious from the start.

The second she realizes, her face changes, and she lifts a hand to flip me off without a trace of hesitation.

I laugh before I can help it, sinking back in my seat as she starts laughing too, shaking her head at me like I’m still the exact same person she remembers.

Honestly, she’s not wrong.

I end the call just as she starts walking toward me, then grab my bag and push the door open. I step out without hurrying, my Prada heels meeting the asphalt one after the other—sharp, steady clicks that carry nicely through the quiet street.

Her eyes drop immediately. She stares at my shoes, then looks back at me like I’ve stepped out of a spaceship instead of a car.

“You’ve got to be shitting me. Tell me you didn’t drive in those.”

My attention drops briefly before settling on her again, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Obviously I did. I don’t downgrade just because I’m operating machinery.”

“One day that attitude is going to get you in trouble.” She exhales through her nose, already regretting engaging with me.

I push my sunglasses higher along the bridge of my nose, a small, polished gesture that makes it clear her opinion ranks somewhere beneath the dust on my windshield.

“The cleaning team just left,” Tess says, nodding toward the house. “Everything’s done. Exactly how you wanted it. They didn’t miss anything.”

“They better not have.”

“They didn’t,” she replies a little too quickly. “I checked after they left. Every room.”

I give a slight nod, the kind you give staff when they’ve managed not to disappoint you. “Good. At least someone here can follow instructions.”

Her jaw tightens, like she bites the words back before they can leave her mouth.

“My bag’s in the trunk. Bring it inside for me.” I adjust the strap of my top and look back at her. “I’m not exactly dressed for lifting things.”

“Of course you’re not.” She lets out a short, disbelieving laugh.

I keep moving without bothering to look back, my heels striking the pavement in a steady, unhurried rhythm while she stays behind to deal with the bag. I push the door open and step inside, my eyes moving slowly over the space ahead.

The house is exactly the same. Nothing moved, nothing changed, nothing touched without permission.

The same massive windows line the walls, dressed in heavy, expensive curtains that fall in perfect folds to the floor, shutting out most of the light and keeping curious eyes where they belong—outside.

The living room opens in front of me exactly as I remember it—polished surfaces, carefully chosen furniture, and that cold, expensive feeling my father loves.

Beyond it, past the wide-open space, I catch sight of the pool room enclosed in glass walls.

The oversized pool still gleams under the low lights, untouched, like it’s been waiting all this time for me to come back.

To the side, the bar is exactly where it used to be, lined with bottles that probably cost more than most people’s rent, all arranged neatly, labels facing forward, the kind of display that makes one thing obvious—I don’t settle for cheap.

I cross the room and open the cabinet door, my hand already moving toward what I want.

“Do me a favor,” I say, glancing at Tess. “Go to the kitchen and bring back two glasses. We should celebrate. I’m back, after all, and it feels wrong to mark an occasion this important with empty hands.”

She rolls her eyes but turns toward the kitchen anyway without arguing.

I take my time opening the bottle, listening to the quiet settle around the room, then look up just as she returns with the glasses. I pour as soon as she reaches me, filling them both halfway before setting the bottle aside.

I hand one to her and lift mine slightly, letting my eyes drift around the room, taking in the space, the way everything looks exactly like it used to, clean and untouched and just a little too silent for my taste.

“It’s been way too quiet around here,” I add, turning my attention back to her, my voice calm, almost amused. “I think it’s about time people had something to talk about again.”

She lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head like she already knows where this is going but doesn’t bother stopping me.

“You’ve been back five minutes.”

“And it already feels boring,” I reply easily. “So let’s fix that.”

The corner of her mouth lifts, and she raises her glass to meet mine without hesitation.

“God help this town,” she mutters under her breath.

I take another slow sip, letting my eyes drift around the room like I’m already picturing it full of people, music, noise, something that actually feels alive.

“Anyway,” I add after a moment, glancing back at her, “I’m pretty sure they’ve missed one of my parties.”

“Of course you think that.” Tess shakes her head with a quiet laugh.

I lift one shoulder in a careless shrug, not bothering to pretend she might be wrong.

“I mean… let’s be honest, no one here knows how to throw a party the way I do.”

She raises a brow at that, but there’s the faintest trace of agreement in the look she gives me.

“You’re not exactly wrong,” she admits.

A small smile touches my mouth as I lift the glass back to my lips. “Exactly.”

I walk over to the sofa and sink into it, crossing my legs as I lean back against the cushions, my glass still in hand. Tess drops down beside me, setting hers on the table before reaching for it again.

I take my phone out and unlock it, already opening a few tabs.

“What are you doing?” she asks, attention shifting to the screen.

“I’m ordering everything.” I keep scrolling through the app. “I have better things to do than spend the day running around this town for basic supplies.”

“Right, because that would be far too… human for you.”

I don’t give her the satisfaction of reacting. I keep scrolling, adding things to the cart without looking up.

“Alcohol first,” I murmur, more to myself than to her. “And not the cheap kind people here pretend to enjoy.”

Tess shifts a little closer, watching the screen.

“You’re really doing this tonight?”

“Obviously. I didn’t come back for a quiet night in.”

She studies me carefully before a smirk pulls at her mouth. “People are going to talk.”

I lift one shoulder, entirely unbothered. “They always do. At least now they’ll have something worth saying.”

I scroll a little more, then pause.

“And we’ll need something extra,” I add in the same casual tone. “So if you still know someone capable of handling that, call them.”

“You mean drugs?” she asks, raising a brow.

“I mean if we’re doing this, we’re not doing it halfway.”

“You’re unbelievable.” She rolls her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth ruins the effect.

“Tess, people need to know I’m back.” I set my glass down against the table with a quiet clink. “This town has been boring itself to death long enough. I’m doing it a favor.”

She watches me quietly, then breathes out through her nose, her gaze drifting aside like she already knows there’s no point arguing once I’ve decided something.

“You really came back ready to cause problems.”

A faint smile touches my mouth, and I make no effort to deny it.

“Call everyone you know.” I turn toward her slowly. “And tell them to bring whoever they want. I don’t care who shows up. I just want this place full.”

“Full?”

“Packed,” I correct, leaning back on the sofa. “I want people talking about it before the night’s even over.”

“Yeah… that won’t be a problem.” She smirks, already pulling her phone out.

I pick my glass back up, taking another slow sip as my eyes move around the room again, already picturing it exactly how I want it.

Loud.

Crowded.

Alive.

Exactly the opposite of what this place has been.