Chapter 22 Genevieve
Genevieve
Every muscle in my body hates Lance Calloway.
My thighs scream when I bend for a glass. My calves seize when I reach for a bottle. Even my ribs ache, and I didn’t know ribs could ache from running.
But the tavern’s busy tonight, so I pour drinks and make small talk and pretend my entire life isn’t unraveling behind a smile.
It’s been forty-eight hours since everything changed.
I’m living in a cabin in the woods with a man I’m supposed to hate.
My boyfriend hasn’t called me once. My father used our emergency code word and now I can’t get him back on the phone.
And yet, when I think about going back to my empty apartment, my chest tightens.
At least at the cabin, there’s Cavall. The thought of that dog with his pink duck makes me smile despite everything.
“You’re in a weirdly good mood for someone who looks like she got hit by a truck.”
Rosalie’s leaning against the service bar, strawberry blond hair piled in a messy bun.
“Thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
“I’m just saying.” She tilts her head. “Does the fact Lance drove you in tonight have anything to do with it?”
“I’m staying at his place for a few days.”
“Uh huh.”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I lean over the bar. “You remember that guy who was watching me a few weeks ago? Tall, blond? Art got nervous, so Lance offered his place to keep an eye on me until they sort it out.”
“Why can’t you stay with Art?”
“He’s busy with the campaign.”
“Your boyfriend’s a dick.”
“So is yours.”
Rosalie shrugs, then shifts to grab a tray and winces, her hand flying to her side.
“You okay?”
“Fine. Bumped into the corner of the bar earlier.”
She won’t meet my eyes.
“Rosie.”
“I’m fine, Ginny.” Her voice sharpens, then she softens it with a smile. She grabs the tray and disappears toward the back.
I watch her go. Another woman in this town pretending everything’s fine.
The night drags. By the time the crowd thins, my feet ache as much as my legs, and I’m heading to grab my jacket when I hear Art’s voice.
I freeze. I hadn’t realized he was here. My chest smarts. He didn’t even come out front to say hi.
“…ready by next month. Myrddin isn’t asking.”
A chill trickles down my spine and I press myself against the wall.
“He’s gonna get slaughtered out there,” Benny says. “Kid can barely throw a punch.”
“That’s not really the point, is it?” Art’s voice is different. Colder than I’ve ever heard it. “Percy’s bait anyway.”
My stomach drops through the floor.
“At least we know Lance will deliver,” Benny continues. “He always does.”
“Let’s hope he keeps his head on straight. He’s been distracted lately.”
“And you’re not?”
Art’s quiet for a moment but then he laughs. “Don’t ask me stupid fucking questions, Benny. Just let me handle my best friend, okay? I’ve got it.”
Handle. Like Lance is a problem to be managed. If he talks about Lance this way, I don’t even want to imagine how he speaks about me.
The office door creaks, and I scramble backward into the storage room, pressing my back against the shelving and holding my breath until the footsteps fade.
I should go upstairs and wait for Lance to come back. That’s the smart thing. That’s what he told me to do. He practically threatened to kill me himself if I didn’t let him drive me to and from work.
But I’m done being smart.
So instead, I head to the secret doorway into the Lye, swipe my key card, and take the stairs down.
The training room door is cracked open, a sliver of light spilling into the tunnel hall.
Lance is in the center of the room, shirtless, his tattoos dark against his skin. Sweat glistens on his shoulders and his hands are wrapped in tape. He’s standing across from Percy, adjusting the kid’s stance with his own feet, his voice low and patient.
“Hands up. Always. Even when you’re tired. Even when you think it’s over.”
Percy lifts his fists.
“Better.”
He’s training him.
“How’s the leg?” he asks.
“Still sore.”
Lance grimaces. “You’ll learn to fight through the pain.”
“Yeah.”
My throat closes. Percy looks different than when I saw him just a couple days ago. There’s a bruise under his right eye, and he’s leaning on his left leg, and I know with a sick certainty it’s not from an accident.
“I was barely eighteen, you know?” Lance says, and my breath catches. “First time I stepped into that cage, I thought I was about to die.”
Percy swallows. “What happened?”
“I didn’t die.” He taps Percy’s fists higher. “I’m not teaching you rules, Percy. There are no rules, no matter what location they take you to. I’m teaching you to survive. Don’t forget that.”
This is the same man who laughed in my face when I asked for help. Who told me I wasn’t built for it. But here he is, careful and patient, trying to give this kid a chance.
The same kid Art just called “bait.”
I shift for a better angle, and my shoulder bumps the door.
It creaks.
Lance’s head snaps toward me, his body going rigid, and our eyes lock through the gap.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
His shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t look away.
Seven.
The corner of his mouth twitches.
Then he turns back to Percy like nothing happened. “Again. Keep your chin tucked or someone’ll break your jaw.”
I slip away, heart hammering, and by the time I make it to the front of the tavern, Art’s waiting with a soft smile and his keys spinning around his finger.
“Hey, baby.” He crosses to me and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, trying to calm my pulse.
“Thought I’d surprise you.”
Ten minutes ago, he was so cold and callous in his office. Now he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that matters.
“Where’s Lance?” I ask.
“Busy downstairs.” He shrugs, already guiding me toward the door with a hand on my lower back. “I told him I’d take you back to the cabin tonight. Figured it’d give us some time.”
“So you do know I’m there.” Lance had already told me as much, but it still hurts he didn’t call. “You were here this whole night and didn’t come say hi?”
“I wanted to give you my full attention when I saw you, and then I got caught up with Benny. Business stuff.”
Business stuff. Right.
He pulls out of the lot and the dark road stretches ahead.
“Art.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this sucks. You’re my boyfriend. I moved here for you, and you don’t even stop by to make sure I’m okay after I was stalked?”
His hands tighten on the wheel. For a long moment, I think he’s going to deflect again.
Then he exhales.
“You’re right. I’m shitty and I’m sorry, okay? But I was trying to find things out before I worried you more.”
I keep my face still. I know more than he thinks I know. But I need to hear what he’ll tell me…and what he won’t.
“Okay. So what’d you find out?”
He flicks a blinker on, and the clicking echoes in the car. “Your dad’s in trouble.”
My nails bite into the seat. “What kind of trouble?”
“I didn’t know at first, okay? When you moved here, I thought it was just us.
You and me, starting something real. But then I heard things.
From Benny. From people connected to this world I never wanted to be part of.
Your dad’s the attorney for some dangerous people, and apparently that comes with strings. ”
His honesty surprises me, and I swallow around the knot. “What kind of strings?”
“The kind where they want to make sure he stays loyal.” Art pulls the car to the side of the road and turns to face me. “I think that’s why someone’s been following you. They want something to hold over him.”
“So I’m what? A hostage?”
My heart kicks and my vision blurs, something spiraling in my sternum. Breathe, Ginny.
“No.” He grabs my hand, grip almost too tight. “I won’t let that happen. That’s why I asked Lance to watch you. That’s why you’re at his place. I’m gonna fix this.”
“Okay…” I can’t catch my breath. “Sure.”
I drop my head between my knees, and Lance’s voice floats through my head—What’s something you can see? Deep breaths, Half-Pint—until I come back to myself.
When I straighten and peer at Art, he’s white-knuckling the steering wheel and looking at me like I’m an alien.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just been a little panicky lately.”
“Right.” He grabs my hand again, pulling it into his lap. “I’m here now, babe. Everything’s okay.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Because I was ashamed.” His thumb traces circles on my palm, and his touch is soft and cool. “This town, my family, the Lye…this whole mess—I brought you into it.”
He looks broken. And part of me breaks with him, because I loved this man. I moved my whole life for him, and even now, watching him crack open, I want it to be real.
“I love you, Gin.” He kisses my fingers. “I can’t lose you.”
A tear slips down my cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”
My father told me not to.
Relief floods his face, and he pulls me across the console, his nose buried in my hair.
I hold onto him, breathing in his cologne, trying to quiet the voice whispering that the man who just said “I can’t lose you” also said “that kid’s bait” without flinching.
He pulls back and cups my face. “There’s a party coming up. Paxton Calloway’s anniversary thing. I want you there. As my date. Officially.”
My mouth pops open. “What about your dad?”
“Fuck my dad. I’m tired of hiding you.”
The words wrap around me, and I let myself sink into them, because even if everything else is crumbling, and even if I’m only staying because my father needs me to play the game—this is what I came here for. For Art. And it feels like right now, for the first time, he’s choosing me.
It’s just too little too late.
“Okay,” I whisper.
He kisses me, and I swallow down the trepidation and kiss him back.
When we pull up to the cabin, Cavall is at the window, tail going wild. Art walks me to the door.
“Text me tomorrow?”
“You’re not coming in?”
His eyes drop. “Unless you’d feel safer if I did.”
I shrug, glancing at the tree line behind him.
“You’re safe here, Gin. I’d trust Lance and Cavall with my life.”
One more kiss, and then he’s gone, his taillights disappearing down the dark road.
I hurry inside because being out here alone gives me the creeps, and Cavall barrels into me, his whole body wiggling, the pink duck wedged between us. I drop to my knees and he licks my cheek.
“Hey, buddy. Miss me?”
His tail thumps.
The back door opens a few minutes later, and Lance walks in, freshly showered, hair still damp, head to toe in black. He stops when he sees me, his hand pressing against his chest. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Art brought me back. I thought he told you.”
He frowns and shakes his head. “He didn’t tell me.”
“Oh.”
“You good?” he asks.
“He told me about my dad. Same stuff we already deduced. Dangerous people, keeping an eye on me.” I scratch Cavall’s ears. “He said he didn’t know until after I moved here.”
“You believe him?”
“I want to.”
“Me too.” He holds my gaze for a moment longer. “You eat?”
“Not really.”
“I’ll make something.”
He heads to the kitchen and I follow him. He moves with purpose; grabbing a pan, pulling things from the fridge, and I think about what he said to Percy tonight. About being barely eighteen. About teaching survival, not fighting.
I think about Art calling that kid bait.
And I think about how Lance didn’t say a single word against Art just now. Didn’t plant doubt or push me toward suspicion.
He just asked if I believed him.
And let me answer for myself.