Chapter 46 Violet
Violet
Three Months Later
Everything was okay. Totally fine. My life was not on fire.
“What do you mean I’m fired?” I asked, following Roy through the club like some starved dog. “I need this job. I have bills to pay. Rent—”
“I can’t have people physically fighting over you,” he said over his shoulder. “It’s bad for business.”
“No one’s fighting over me.” This was the longest job I’d managed to hold in months, cash in hand, no questions asked. Roy didn’t care who I was, only that I showed up and kept the glasses full. The money was decent, the work degrading, but the hours worked. 9 p.m. to 4 a.m., all while mum slept.
Perfect. Until it wasn’t.
“I’ll take a pay cut,” I said, desperate. A few men were giving me extra attention, but that meant better tips. Surely, they weren’t fighting over me? “I’ll wear more clothes, or—”
“More clothes?” Roy grunted, spinning around so fast I nearly crashed into him.
The tray wobbled in my hands, empty glasses rattling as I caught myself just in time. His eyes dragged down my outfit, a smirk tugging at his mouth.
“I want you to wear less, that’s the point.”
I stared at him. “I don’t understand.”
“Three customers have put in complaints.”
“But I didn’t do—”
“Here,” he cut me off, shoving a hand into his pocket and pulling out a roll of notes. “That’s what you’re owed. Sorry, sweetheart, it is what it is.” He didn’t wait for a reply, just turned and vanished into the crowd.
I stood there for a moment, gripping the money hard as I fought the stupid burn at the back of my eyes.
Shit. Without looking at any of the other girls, I placed the tray on the bar and then immediately grabbed my coat and made my way outside. Roy had given me a little more than the night’s wage, but it wasn’t going to last long. Even with everything I’d saved, it was never enough.
Mum’s medication cost a fortune when it wasn’t through the NHS. We couldn’t risk our names being tracked, so I bought it from back-alley dealers instead. Turns out prescription drugs on the black market cost just as much as regular ones.
Shoving the money deep into my pocket, I pulled out my phone, calling Bug before I could talk myself out of it. She answered on the second ring, and just hearing her voice steadied something in my chest.
“Violet? Is that you?”
“Hi, Bug.”
“Oh my God, are you okay? You don’t usually call this late.”
The night air bit at my bare legs as I walked toward the bus stop. “Yeah,” I said, having to clear my voice. “Just wanted to talk. Has everything been okay?”
Meaning… had there been any more unwanted visitors?
“Lover boy hasn’t shown up, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said, amusement trying to hide the concern in her tone.
Ryder had shown up at the studio within hours of mum and me disappearing, harassing everyone. He’s also turned up at Bug’s flat. But that was ten weeks ago.
I told myself I was relieved he’d left my friends alone, but I didn’t want to also admit I felt disappointment that he hadn’t found me yet.
Which was ridiculous, because I didn’t want to be found.
It was safer for mum if we stayed hidden.
If we pretended everything else didn’t exist, even though I fucking ached to understand everything mum went through.
It was always a constant at the back of my mind, keeping me up at night.
I wanted to look into it, to find Mr C just so I could put a shape to the shadows that had followed us for years.
But the thought of doing it made my stomach knot with fear.
Fear for mum, for what might be dragged back into the light if I accidentally dug too deep.
And fear for myself, for what I might uncover.
Still… it was hard.
To have my life come to a standstill when all I wanted was answers. Sometimes I swore I could still feel him near me, that subtle heat of being watched. It was unsettling, the way it both scared and comforted me.
But it was easier to believe it was him watching me than someone far worse.
Delusions were my new friends.
“Violet, are you really okay?” Bug asked softly.
“Yes.” No. “I just wanted to let you know I’m thinking about moving again.”
“Again?” Even Bug couldn’t pretend to sound supportive this time. She was the only person I still trusted enough to call, but even she didn’t know where I was. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “Just thinking maybe somewhere else would be better for mum.”
“Okay,” she said, almost hesitant. “Then why don’t you come home?”
I stared down the road, praying the bus would come early. “You know I can’t.”
“I miss you. We all do, Vi. Maybe if you just—”
“I miss you, too,” I said quickly, cutting her off before the words could unravel me. “I’ll call you again soon, I promise.” The lump in my throat burned, and before I could lose what little willpower I had left, I ended the call and stared at the screen.
Running had felt like the best option, but somehow even after all the distance we’d put between us and mum’s past, I’d never felt more trapped.
“You’re heading home early,” a voice grumbled from beneath a blanket, making me jump. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle ya, lass.”
I choked back my undignified scream before managing a weak smile.
“I don’t normally see you for another few hours,” Scot continued. He never actually introduced himself, so I named him ‘Scot’ due to his Scottish accent. Very original, I know. “You got anything for me?”
His weathered face peeked out from between a threadbare scarf and a wool hat, brows furrowing when he realised I didn’t have his usual hot chocolate.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, fumbling in my pocket for some of the granola bar I’d shoved in there earlier. “Sorry it’s not much. I didn’t have a chance to grab anything from the club.”
Scot had been a reassuring constant on my walk back to the bus stop every night. He changed spots regularly, mainly because he was chased from whichever doorway he’d chosen to sleep in, but he was always around.
“Thanks,” he said gruffly, snatching the bar from my hand before I could even stretch my arm. “That guy bothering you?”
I froze mid-step. “Guy?”
“That one,” he said between bites, gesturing behind me.
Instinct made me turn, my heart thudding as my eyes swept the empty street. But there was nothing but darkness broken by the occasional halo of a streetlight.
“What did he look like?” I asked, panic perforating every one of my cells.
Scot took another bite, chewing it for a few seconds before replying with a scowl. “You got eyes, don’t you?” He shifted in his nest of blankets, leaning to one side to peer around me again, the deep lines in his face pulling taut.
“And you think he was following me?”
“Strange hour to be out, lass.” He shrugged. “You notice things when you don’t got anywhere else to go. But,” he added after a beat, glancing up the road, “since I can’t see him now, maybe he weren’t following you after all.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, giving him a quick wave before continuing toward the bus stop at the end of the road.
It was probably nothing, just Scot’s paranoia rubbing off on me, but I still scanned my surroundings, ensuring there were no shadows moving in the dark. By the time I reached the bus stop, my chest was tight.
This was the first time I’d actively felt afraid.
That maybe I hadn’t been as careful as I’d thought.
Sitting down on the plastic bench, I forced my breathing to even out, but it didn’t help.
The glass walls reflected every twitch of movement behind me, every shape morphing into something that could have been someone.
The hiss of brakes echoed as the bus rolled to a stop in front of me.
I waited a moment too long, the glow of the interior spilling over me as I glanced one more time around. Reassuring myself that everything was okay, and I hadn’t endangered us.
“You getting on or not?” The driver gave me a bored look, fingers drumming the wheel.
“Yeah,” I muttered, stepping inside and handing over some of the money.
The doors closed behind me with a heavy thud, and I dropped into the closest seat.
I would be okay. I could find another job in another town. As long as mum and I were together, we could make it work. We had to; there was no other choice.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I stared down at the phone in my hand. My fingers itched to scroll through the messages, the same ones I read every night like some kind of ritual, or maybe masochistic punishment. But tonight, it may be more out of reassurance.
Which was something I’d never admit out loud.
No one had this mobile number. I bought this phone after a few weeks, nothing more than a basic handset. It was a brand-new number that I immediately made private, bought in a town I’d never visited before. I’d been so careful, and yet after a few days I received my first message.
I never replied, but for some reason I didn’t block him, either.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
Leaving without a goodbye? Cold, blondie. Real cold.
Almost as cold as leaving me on read. Rude that.
Have I ever told you you’re so fucking impulsive? If we’d actually sat down and discussed this, like adults, I would have told you running away would be stupid.
I’m sorry I called you stupid. Although, you are impulsive.
It’s super frustrating.
So I may have punched Roman. Did you know he fights in underground matches? He’s a big deal, and I punched him because I was jealous. I hope you appreciate the gravity of the situation.
Maxim almost shot me, by the way.
If he did… would you kiss it better?
Look, I get you’re scared. Fuck, I’m scared for you. I fucked up, and I want to make it better. And not just with my cock… although that’s always an option. But it’s been weeks. You can’t do this alone.
I think I may have scared your reptilian friend. Also… plot twist… she keeps bugs! You should have seen my face when I broke into her flat. Makes sense with the nickname now.
Did you know Roman keeps snakes? True fact. The weirdo has a thing for venom. Not drinking it, I don’t think? That would be strange. But you know… for other things.
Are you interested in what those other things are? If you are, you need to reply.
I’ll settle for a single emoji.
Or any sign of life.
How’s your mum? Does she have her medication? Let me know where you are and I’ll get some posted out. You don’t even have to see me.
Look, just let me help. I have contacts. I’ll call in favours.
I can keep you safe. Both of you.
The latest message was only a few hours ago, and I replied before I could stop myself, caught up in the mess of my own emotions.
Me:
You’re supposed to forget me.
Shit. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have text back, and yet I sat there, staring at the screen, waiting for his reply like a junkie craving a fix.
The phone buzzed.
One vibration, and that tiny sound hit harder than any drug.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
Miss me, blondie?
My pulse stuttered.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
That’s rhetorical by the way, because we both know the answer to that.
God, I hated him. But worse, I hated that I did miss him.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
So, here’s the thing. I don’t chase. Usually anyway, but I’m happy to explore any and all of your kinks. In fact, write them all down, and we’ll go through them like a sexy checklist. Just tell me where you are.
Me:
I don’t want you to find me.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
Then why did you reply?
I immediately clicked out of the text exchange. Because why did I reply? I ran because it was the only thing that made sense at the time, because staying meant drowning. Mum was terrified of everyone, so getting out was what was best for her. Right?
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
Tell me where you are, and I’ll come.
Please.
I left him on read.