Chapter 1 #2
Cracks spider under the paint, and the foundation under my feet is trembling with uncertainty. But I keep standing, faking my belief that everything will be okay.
But this…the way they’re looking at her, like she’s just a thing, or a puzzle that needs to be solved, or an inconvenience that’s disrupting their day makes my skin crawl, and I’m simply not strong enough to bear it.
I want someone to cover her.
I want to get away from her.
Because all I can think about is that it should be me.
Is that how it would be if it were me lying on that table? The same cool, clinical detachment while they discuss what’s happened?
Clipboard questions. Photos. My name turned into evidence.
I practically run to the living room and take a seat on the large sectional with my legs tucked under me and a pillow pressed against my chest. My eyes close while I listen.
Just because I can’t watch them doesn’t mean I can’t hear them. It makes me sick, but I need to know what they’re saying.
There is a tiny part of me, just a little voice in the back of my head that I try to ignore, that’s relieved.
Not that Sarah is dead. Well, not exactly. Relief and shame scrape together in my throat like they’re the same thing.
She can’t hurt them if she is dead. No whispered lies. No smiling at them for too long, pretending she’s going to end up the next Mrs. Titan-Wynn.
She can’t be a problem for me anymore. She can’t try to take them if she’s gone. The thought flashes mean and ugly, and I flinch from it. But it’s the truth. I know that the plan is to leave when this is all over, but every single moment with them makes me want to stay.
More than that. They were with me the entire night and morning… They left this room moments after I did. There is no way that they did this. Does that mean they didn’t kill any of the others, either?
Could Sarah’s last moments actually serve to prove, even if only to me, that the Titans aren't responsible for the other missing staff members?
This is by far the most useful thing she has ever done…
I push those thoughts aside, refusing to be so callous.
I am not that girl. I won’t be.
Sarah was a person. A woman caught up in this web of bullshit because of me, just like the Titans.
Actions stick to people; mine stuck to her and may have caused her death.
Every fiber of my being tells me to stay put, not to go back in there. Let them handle this. It’s their world.
They are stronger.
They can handle it.
Sit. Breathe. Be small.
Let power do what power does.
But then there’s that little voice, the one in the back of my head whispering the truths I so desperately want to ignore.
Move.
This is your mess. Their world is drugs, gambling, and whores. The world of unpaid debts, beatings in the street, and death is yours.
They are above this. You are dragging them down.
Say it out loud and it won’t own you.
Say it.
I whisper the words. “Just like I was dragging Con down when I was sixteen.”
They shouldn’t be anywhere near this. Anywhere near me. Memories sting as they flash through my mind, and I blink back tears—his jaw tight, my hands empty.
My stomach rolls again, but that stupid voice is right.
This is my mess.
I can’t leave it to them to clean. If I want a place beside them, I have to stand in the blood with them.
Getting to my feet, I walk over to the room, stopping in the doorway, watching the four men I…maybe…love talk in hushed tones while looking at the body or at their phones.
“What are we going to do?” I ask. “How do we handle this?” My voice comes out rough, like it had to claw its way up through my throat.
There’s no running from this. No matter how much I want to. I need to face the war ahead with them by my side… even if they don’t want me the way I need them.
All four men stop, sharing a loaded look, a silent conversation that I am not close enough to be a part of. Eyes flick—Con to Atticus, Atticus to Storm, Storm to Maverick—and I can feel the verdict forming without me.
The rejection hangs in the air even before they say a word.
Maverick takes a step toward me. “We got this, Little Firebird. Why don’t you go draw a bath, get cleaned up, and by the time you’re out we’ll have some food brought up and—”
I fling a hand up, palm out, to silence him. “And what? Have a nice meal around the dead girl on the dining table?” I demand. “Do not shut me out, I need to—”
“You need to do as you are told,” Conrad interrupts. He eats the distance between the men and the door in three long strides. He tries to close the door in my face. I slap my hand on the cold wood and wedge my foot in the door.
“Do not freeze me out right now. I deserve to be a part of this.”
“You’re not thinking clearly.” There’s no warmth, or even playfulness in his eyes. They’re as cold as Storm’s eyes usually are. The sting of their dismissal makes something inside me crack wide open.
This is on me, and I won’t let him or any of them take on this burden. Not without a fight.
“Oh, fuck you, Conrad,” I snap. “This is mine. Not yours.”
“Oh shit,” Maverick mutters under his breath.
Atticus glances at me like I’ve grown wings. Storm stays quiet, but he shifts a little closer, ready to get in between me and Conrad if he needs to.
“What is it, Conrad? You think I’m weak?” I ask. “That I can’t handle this? That I’m not strong enough to face my demons?”
“That’s not what I said.” He sighs. “Go to your room, Phoenix. We will get you when we—”
I take a step closer, chest rising and falling.
My finger shakes when I raise it and point it at him.
“You want me protected. I get that. But don’t mistake ‘safe’ for ‘silenced.’ I didn’t survive everything I’ve been through just to get benched during the fight.
I am a part of this, or am I wrong? Am I just the girl you like to fuck? ”
Maverick whistles low. “She’s pissed.”
“She should be,” Storm mutters. “She’s not wrong. She should be a part of this.”
Conrad says nothing. His jaw tightens and his eyes narrow as he looks at me, staring into my soul.
“Say it,” I demand. “Admit that you don’t trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” he finally answers. “I can’t trust you with anything more than my cock and the pleasure we give each other. I can’t trust you not to run. I can’t trust you not to leave. Because you will. And when you leave, you’re going to break what’s left of us.”
I stare at him, rage bubbling up my throat like acid. “You’re scared I’ll run away and ruin what you have planned? Or are you afraid I’ll call your daddy?”
I know I’m going too far, but I don’t give a shit. The words, the threat and the rejection hang between us, making it impossible to breathe.
I won’t break.
I can’t turn back.
I can’t let him see how much his words have destroyed me.
Conrad is the one who looks away first, when Storm pushes past him. “Listen to him, Angel. Not because he’s an ass. Listen to him because I’m scared you’ll be next. And he’s right. Losing you will kill the last good part of my soul.”
That stops me in my tracks.
Just for a second.
He refuses to look at me as he turns his back. That, more than anything, shatters me.
“You don’t get to shut me out,” I whisper.
“You don’t get to demand entry,” Con bites out. “Not when you’re right and the message was clearly about you.”
His hand is on the door, and he steps aside. For a moment I think he’s going to relent. That he’s going to let me back in.
“Storm,” he says without turning to face me. “Get her out of here.”
“Don’t,” I say, stepping into his space, putting my hand on his back. “Don’t make this choice for me. Don’t take away my power.”
“I already did.” He pulls away from me, and the door closes behind him.
I’m not sure if the ringing in my ears is fury, heartbreak, or the beginning of something far worse.
Because he was right. Me leaving would hurt them…but he’s destroyed me.
The door opens again when Storm steps out.
He says nothing.
Neither does Atticus, who looks up to meet my eyes. Maverick kneels beside the body again and mutters something about disposal, pulling Atticus’s focus back down.
I just stand there, arms crossed, thumb tapping.
One. Two. Three.
One. Two. Three.
The pieces inside me are already broken and cutting away at my soul, reminding me that ultimately I mean nothing.
The spiral of dismay and reality drags me deep as Storm puts his hand on my elbow and guides me away from the scene.
This is no longer just about trust.
It’s about my place with the Titans, and the cruel reminder that nothing has changed… Storm might see me as his, but I’m still just a toy they haven't broken yet.