Chapter Forty-Eight
I SHOULDN’T HAVE gone into the woods with her.
I knew that even as Sugar’s fingers curled into the front of my cut, even as she leaned into me like she’d been waitin’ on permission I never actually gave.
I didn’t want her. Not really. I wanted the noise she brought.
The distraction. The proof that I wasn’t standin’ around like a kicked dog waitin’ on a woman who hadn’t chosen me.
Lark hadn’t shown up.
That was the story my head kept tellin’ itself, over and over, like repetition might dull the edge of it. She didn’t come back to the clubhouse. Didn’t call. Didn’t send word through anyone. Just disappeared after sneakin’ off to meet another man.
So yeah. I told myself she ran.
Ran straight back to him.
Sugar laughed at somethin’ I said, her voice too loud, too practiced, like she knew exactly how to play this part. That was the thing about her. Easy didn’t require effort. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t look at you like she was tryin’ to see past the armor.
Her hand slid lower, nails scratchin’ over denim, and I felt… nothin’. No heat. No hunger. Not even relief. Just a hollow space where want should’ve been.
We stopped where the trees grew thicker and the light thinned out, somewhere private enough to pretend bad decisions were the point. Sugar pressed closer, her mouth near my ear, whisperin’ somethin’ about how she knew how to make me forget.
I almost laughed.
Forget what?
The woman I needed to breathe?
You don’t forget that. You just bleed around it.
I caught Sugar’s wrist, gentle but firm, stoppin’ her hand before it went any farther. She froze, then looked up at me, surprise flickerin’ across her face before she smoothed it into a smirk.
“What’s the problem?” she asked. “Thought you wanted this.”
I looked at her then. Really looked.
She wasn’t a bad woman. She was just wrong. Wrong time. Wrong reason. Wrong everything.
“Not right now,” I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.
She studied my face like she might argue, then sighed, rollin’ her eyes. “You’re a mess, Chain.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Guess I am.”
She pulled back, straightenin’ her shirt, disappointment already slidin’ into indifference. “You’ll get over her,” she said. “It just takes time. And when you finally need a little lovin’, I’ll be here.”
“Yeah,” I said, not believin’ a damn word of it.
We walked back toward the clubhouse, Sugar still doin’ her best to distract me. I didn’t look over my shoulder. Didn’t care who saw. Let ’em talk.
Inside, the noise swallowed us whole. My head pounded. My chest felt tight. Whatever anger I’d been runnin’ on bled out, leavin’ behind somethin’ worse.
Emptiness.
Gatsby caught me near the door. “Briar was lookin’ for you earlier.”
That stopped me. Just for a second.
“Why?” I asked. Briar hadn’t been comin’ around the clubhouse for years. She didn’t just show up.
He shrugged. “Hell if I know. She waited a bit, then left.”
Of course she did.
Briar didn’t have much patience for anythin’, especially grown men makin’ a mess of things. I nodded once and moved past him, lettin’ that slip easy into the version of events I’d already decided on.
Lark didn’t come back.
Whatever chance there was to talk it out had already passed.
I poured myself another drink and stared into the amber, like it might hold answers instead of just reflections I didn’t want to see. The truth was, I’d never wanted anyone the way I wanted her—and still did.
And that was the part I couldn’t drink away.
***
I WAS STILL sittin’ there when Devil found me.
Same stool. Same half-empty glass. Same stretch of bar that had gone quiet enough to hear the buzz of the lights overhead. The amber stared back at me like a dare I didn’t have the energy to take.
I hadn’t moved. Hadn’t thought much either. Just sat there, lettin’ the ache settle where the anger used to be.
Devil didn’t say my name right away. He came up beside me and leaned a hip against the bar, close enough I could feel him there without lookin’. That was his tell. When he was quiet first, it meant whatever came next wasn’t optional.
“Ash called,” he said finally.
I didn’t react. Didn’t lift my head. Didn’t reach for the glass either.
“Good for him,” I muttered.
Devil’s gaze stayed forward. “He’s got information.”
That got me to blink. “About what?” I asked, my voice rough, scraped thin.
“And the cult.”
The word cut through the fog sharper than whiskey ever had.
I turned my head just enough to look at him. “What kind of information?”
“The kind that says this isn’t just about your pride gettin’ bruised,” Devil replied. “And the kind that says Lark might be in real trouble whether she wants to be or not.”
I scoffed, the sound hollow. “She’s a grown woman. She made her choices.”
Devil finally looked at me then. Really looked. “She made a choice to survive once already,” he said. “That don’t mean she’s free of it.”
My jaw tightened. “You said Ash has information. So say it.”
“He won’t over the phone,” Devil said. “He wants Church. And I want you clear-headed. Want you listening instead of spiraling.”
I laughed under my breath and pushed the glass away an inch. “That ship sailed.”
“No,” Devil said firmly. “It didn’t.”
He straightened, squarin’ up in front of me now. Not looming. Not threatenin’. Just immovable.
“You’ve been drinking for four days,” he went on. “You’ve been writing your own version of events because it hurts less than not knowing. And you’ve been real damn close to crossing lines I can’t pull you back from.”
I bristled. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you don’t care right now,” he shot back. “And that’s the problem. Be thankful Lark’s still alive to get answers because we’re not all that fucking lucky.”
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.
Finally, Devil spoke again, quieter this time. “Ash wouldn’t want to talk in person if he didn’t have important info.”
My chest went tight. “What are you sayin’?” I bit out.
“I’m saying you don’t know a damn thing yet,” Devil replied. “And neither do I. That’s why we need you sober and thinking.”
I dragged a hand down my face, exhaustion weighin’ heavy. “And if I don’t like what Ash has to say?”
“Then you deal with it,” Devil said evenly. “Clear-headed. Not drunk. Not reckless.”
He nudged the glass farther away from me. “You’re done drinkin’.”
I looked at the bar. The bottle. The easy numbness waitin’ there if I reached for it. I exhaled slow and pushed the glass away myself.
“Where’s Ash?” I asked.
Devil’s shoulders eased just a fraction. “On his way. Wants to talk tonight.”
I nodded once. “Get me some coffee.”
Devil gave a short grunt. “That I can do.”
As he walked off, I leaned back on the stool, head thumpin’, thoughts startin’ to line up whether I liked it or not.
I didn’t know what Ash was about to tell us. Didn’t know if it would change anythin’. But for the first time since the motel, I wasn’t runnin’ from the truth anymore.
And whatever it was?
I was gonna face it sober.