Chapter 39
Bills lay scattered around me, a stack of paid statements that still left me feeling buried.
I had work in an hour, but getting ready was the last thing on my mind—I needed to make sense of my budget.
Kem had left me with all the money, but in a city suffocating under inflation, half a million barely stretched.
Without a roommate, it would vanish by year's end, and I was determined to live alone.
My phone's battery was draining fast from all the budgeting apps I'd been running, each calculation forcing me to adjust the numbers, over and over. My rent alone was soaring to unthinkable levels, not to mention food, household essentials, and everything else.
Even when Kem and I shared expenses, scraping by had been a struggle. Now, it seemed impossible on my own—and I still had my dream of buying that land. Frustration rose, and tears prickled at my eyes. In one quick motion, I shoved the bills aside, papers spilling across the floor.
If I'd known Kem would betray me like this, I never would've lent her that pen back in middle school. Our friendship had spanned years, but it had come to an end a year ago—and I'd been the last to realize it.
Kem and I had been best friends, and I honestly thought that might change when she moved with her parents here to one of the Vamps' cities.
But I was old enough to make my own decisions, so I moved with her family, treating it like some kind of college move.
The difference was, unlike everyone else, I wouldn't see my parents on holidays—it was too costly to go back and forth.
Kem and I balanced each other in every way.
We did everything together, had the same dreams—or so I'd thought.
But then she fell in love with one of those bloodsuckers, and now she's having its baby?
If family and love were what she wanted, she could've had that with me.
We could've been everything to each other.
I wiped away my tears and pulled my laptop over for what felt like the sixth time, staring through a haze of frustration at endless listings of overpriced rentals. I knew I couldn't bring in a roommate; it would be a disaster within the first week.
Kem and I had a bond, a history. What would a stranger and I have? Nothing. My social world was practically nonexistent outside of Kem and my job, and she was right about one thing—I did have walls around my heart. But I wasn't about to find a sledgehammer and start breaking them down.
"Ten thousand dollars for a one-bedroom!" I shouted, clicking on the listing for my old apartment. Here I was, already paying double for a place that had felt manageable with Kem. Another search, another rundown unit—overpriced, no view, and barely holding together.
I didn't even bother looking at the luxury end of the city, where only a handful of humans lived among the bloodsuckers. It was like the world had closed in, leaving me trapped on the borderline.
My grip tightened around my phone, an urge to call Kem rising—half of me wanted to curse her out, and the other half wanted to beg her to come back.
But I forced myself to accept it: why would I want a traitor back in my life?
We were over. She'd married behind my back, left without a word, and then got pregnant without telling me. That was all I needed to know.
Sliding off the stool, I tried to think of options. The only thing that came to mind was a shelter. It'd be free...but not exactly safe, either for me or for what little money I had. I realized I didn't even have a bank account yet—a whole other errand I'd have to figure out in this city.
I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew I needed somewhere free—or close to it—that I could stay for a while. A long while.
At work, all I could think about was survival. How was I going to make it? Finding a Vamp to "take care" of me, like Kem did, wasn't even an option in my mind.
"Hey," I greeted the bartender, fingers already wrapped around the tray.
"Sup," he smirked, sliding onto a stool. The thought of asking for help, even a simple question, made me tense. But survival meant stepping outside my comfort zone.
"Do you know of any affordable rentals?" I avoided words like "cheap" or "free"—those didn't exist here. "Affordable" was as close as you could get in a place like this.
He shook his head. "Not that I can think of. Why? Looking for a place?"
"Yeah, maybe by next month," I said, trying not to wince at the thought of my budget. There was no way I'd last the year without ending up homeless—or worse, forced to start selling my blood.
He smirked in a way that made me second-guess asking. "You could stay with me," he offered.
I rolled my eyes, reaching for the tray, but he pressed his fingers down on it, holding it in place.
"Come on, we'd make good roommates."
"No thanks. If I had a roommate, it'd be a girl. But I'm solo," I replied, glaring at his fingers. I knew where this could lead, and I couldn't stand the idea of being involved with anyone right now.
"Affordable and cheap places? Not in this city, Snow Bunny."
Hearing my club name grated on me more than ever. Why did I think asking him was a good idea? I barely knew him. Because you're in survival mode, I reminded myself. And I was. It made me feel desperate—too close to crossing lines I never wanted to cross.
"Maybe I'll ask around some more. I'll get back to you," I lied.
"Yeah, you do that. I'll be waiting," he said, lifting his fingers as I quickly picked up the tray, resolving not to ask him—or anyone else like him—again.
I walked toward the far end of the room. Wade and Jager had shifted their regular spot closer to the pole, the same pole they'd once promised I could dance on but only ever used for lap dances.
As I stared at the two of them, Kem's words surfaced in my mind like she was right there, watching from the shadows. I froze, thoughts swirling. I could ask to stay with them—they'd suggested it more than once.
The two women noticed my stillness, their shoulders losing momentum to concern. They looked at me with a gentleness that made the lump in my throat even harder to swallow.
Could I really live with them? How would it feel? I knew I'd feel nothing—I had a plan. But staying with them? I couldn't picture myself living with the very beings I despised. I could endure going as far as their private rooms for the sake of money and gain, but living with them?
"Snow Princess?" Jager's smooth voice brought me back.
"Hm?" I murmured, still motionless, my gaze stuck between their glasses and their concerned expressions.
"Is something or someone bothering you?"
I felt my head give a small, unintentional nod.
Wade's expression darkened, a low growl escaping her as if she were ready to take down whoever was hurting me.
But I couldn't tell them about Kem, couldn't ask them to bring her back to me by force.
Despite everything, she was still that girl—still important to me, no matter what.
What I needed to do now was survive. And what do people do to survive? Whatever it takes. So why was it so hard to bring up their offer and accept the help they'd already offered?
I swallowed, my voice barely above a whisper. "I need help." It sounded frail, like a tiny buzz in my own ears. Boldness was out of reach.
"With what?" Wade asked, her tone sharp.
"Wait, don't rush her," Jager cautioned.
"My friend left. The one you met the other day. I...I need a place to stay." The words drifted toward the ceiling instead of them, but they heard me, thank God, because I wasn't sure I could repeat it.
"Done. Come home with us," Wade said instantly.
I rolled my eyes. Maybe I'd rather be homeless, I thought, nerves already tingling with regret. "Never mind," I mumbled, shifting from the tension of standing still too long.
"What's going on, Snow Bunny?" Jager asked, her tone calm.
"Kem left," I admitted.
"And you need a place to stay?" Jager's voice was gentle, though Wade looked ready to whisk me away and lock me up to ensure I'd stay safe. Her gaze had that intense, unhinged edge.
"Yes, but just for a while. I plan to leave the city eventually," I said, clarifying as much for myself as for them.
Wade scoffed, unsurprised. She'd gladly have me in her bed every night, though I'd much rather stay on my own.
"You're staying with us," Jager stated firmly.
"I think I can manage on my own," I said, trying to assert myself.
"We're moving you out tonight."
"What? I already paid this month's rent—I have until next month."
"You're not staying alone. It's not safe," she insisted, voice edged with finality. "Tonight, you come home with us. Tomorrow, we'll have someone move your things."
"Slow down, Jager." I laughed, starting to feel my limbs unfreeze.
"You'll stay with us," she repeated.
"I want my own room." Why was I setting terms, like I had any real choice?
"Done," Jager replied without hesitation.
"I can't help with rent, but I could—"
"Don't insult us, Princess," Wade grumbled, knocking back her drink with a scowl.
"What?" I said, panicking. "I didn't mean to—"
She cut off my anxious rambling with a smooth tone. "You think we'd let you pay? We care about you. It doesn't work that way."
"So...how do roommates work, then?"
"Roommates?" Jager laughed, finishing her drink. "You're no roommate."
"You'll get your own room, your own space, as long as you're under our roof. And you're quitting this job."
"Forget it!" I snapped.
Wade raised an eyebrow. "Is that any way to speak to the people who just invited you to live with them, Snow Princess?"
"Forget it!" I repeated, scowling.
She leaned in, voice low. "You can't avoid this. You're coming home with us. Tonight."