Chapter Twenty-Six
Sage
My hands move on autopilot, stacking drinks and snacks onto the tray, but my mind's running wild with numbers and impossible plans.
Best-case scenario is making enough in the next three days to pay back Asher for the crystal, the druid's travel and fee, the clothes he bought me, the burner phone he insisted I have, and maybe, somehow, scrape together enough for a car of my own.
Right. Totally doable. If I were an actual goddess of gold and fortune.
Even with my allure pulsing through the room—drawing gazes like bees to nectar—it won't be enough. The tip jar's already been emptied three times tonight. It's still not enough. Not in three days.
Which means I'll have to stay.
Which means... I don't know what that means yet.
I glide to a table, setting down the orders with a polished smile. "Here you go, gentlemen. Hope you enjoy."
"Oh, we're enjoying," one of them drawls.
"Thank you, doll," the other adds, his voice wheezy with age. He's got at least eight decades behind him and enough liver spots to count as a map, so I let the 'doll' slide and move on without comment.
They all look. It's the allure. I'm not trying to rein it in, so it stirs like an invisible force. But none of them cross the line. Not here. There are unspoken rules at Cole's, and everyone knows Winston doesn't tolerate disrespect. Not toward his people.
When I finally get a five-minute break, I use it to right one of my many wrongs.
I head toward the small back office where Jace has been holed up all evening. I knock. He calls out a clipped "Yeah?" so I push the door open.
He's in his usual uniform—dress shirt and tailored pants, like New York clings to him even out here. He doesn't look up right away, still scanning some spreadsheet or invoice.
"Anything I can do for you?" he asks, flat and businesslike.
I step in and place a folded bundle of cash on his desk—two-hundred-fifty dollars in tips, all sweaty and slightly crumpled. "I come bearing peace. Or, at the very least, a truce."
Now he looks at me. Raises a brow. "This is more than what you took."
"Consider it interest," I say, settling into the chair across from him without waiting for an invitation. "Look, I can't undo what I did. But I'd rather not have us glaring at each other every shift. If you're willing to give me another chance... I'd appreciate it."
He exhales, long and thoughtful, eyeing the money like it might bite him. Then, finally, he nods.
"All right," he says. "I can do that. We've all had moments where we were cornered. I get it."
A small smile tugs at my lips. "Thanks, Jace. I mean it."
I hesitate for a second, then add, "And... for what it's worth, I respect the hell out of you. Trying to build your own thing instead of the life your family planned out for you, especially in New York, is no small thing."
He snorts, leaning back in his chair. The tension in his posture loosens a notch.
"Yeah, well... thanks. But let's not glamorize it too much.
I didn't exactly make it." He hesitates, frowning, then reveals the truth, "I was laid off in the end.
That's why I'm back. Cutbacks hit hard… and here I am. "
He rakes a hand through his dark hair, a self-deprecating smile ghosting across his face.
"Still," I say quietly. "You went out there. You risked something. That's more than most people do in their lifetime."
Jace studies me for a beat longer, his curiosity sharpening. "Sounds like you've got some experience with that. Like you did the same."
I let out a short breath, not quite a sigh. "I came from a background where your life's mapped out before you even learn how to tie your shoes. The right school. The right marriage. The right everything."
"And you bailed?"
"I burned the map," I say simply, my voice tighter than I intend. "Got away. That part of my life... it's in the rearview now."
He nods slowly, not pressing, but curious. "Sounds like a story."
I give a small smile. "It is. Just not one I'm telling tonight."
Jace lifts his hands in a quiet gesture of respect. "Fair enough."
I glance at the clock. Break's over. "I should get back. Don't want Winston thinking I've run off again."
"I'll see you around, Sage," he says, and this time, there's something different in his voice—gentler and warmer.
As I step out of the office and back into the bar's low, golden light, I feel a release in my shoulders I hadn't realized I needed.
Giving Jace those tips sets me back in other plans, sure, but it was the right thing to do.
And in this world, where right and wrong blur like fog on glass, that rare moment of clarity feels like relief.
I savor the calm in my chest for another breath, then grab my tray, square my shoulders, and wade back into the current.
Two hours before my shift ends, the door swings open, and there they are—Asher and Kayden.
Striding in confidently, all dark edges and controlled power.
Their presence shifts the atmosphere immediately, conversation dips, a few heads turn, and people instinctively make way.
Even in a crowded, lively bar, they part the sea.
I'm mid-polish on a glass, mouth parting to greet them, when Kayden closes the distance in a blink. He leans over the bar, grabs the back of my neck, and kisses me—short, fierce, absolutely unmissable.
He pulls away with a grin that's all trouble and triumph, his gaze sweeping the bar to make sure everyone saw. They did. All eyes are on us. Winston mutters something I can't hear, but there's a glint of amusement in his expression.
"Subtle, brother. Real subtle," Asher says dryly as he steps beside him.
"I wasn't aiming for subtle," Kayden replies, already slouching onto a barstool with a smirk that could set the room on fire. "I was going for 'every asshole in here should know who she belongs to.'"
I steady myself, lungs dragging in air, and glare at him through narrowed eyes. "You just cost me half my tips. Maybe more."
He shrugs. "Worth it. Besides, I'll leave a generous one. Got a little more than beer and your charming smile tonight, sunshine."
I shake my head, biting back a grin even as my face heats. He's irredeemable. And damn it, part of me likes that—the bold, unfiltered, possessive energy.
I slide beers in front of them and ask, "Why are you here early anyway? We agreed you'd pick me up after my shift."
That had been a hard-won battle. Kayden was fully prepared to plant himself in the corner all night like some brooding gargoyle. I suspected it would kill my tips. Now I know it.
Kayden shrugs like it's nothing. "Had a craving for beer."
I arch a brow. "Like we don't have beer back home." The word slips before I catch it.
Home.
There's a beat of silence. Asher notices it too. His smile is faint but there.
"Kayden was insistent," he says mildly. "And I didn't want him showing up solo and setting the place on fire."
"So now you've both come to cause trouble in my bar?" Winston asks, appearing with a rag tossed over his shoulder, giving them that practiced bartender glare.
"Double trouble," Kayden replies, flashing teeth. "One's more trouble than the other, but you knew that."
Winston huffs. "Rules still apply. No drama, no mess. And if you get banned, there's no coming back. Keep your hands—and other parts—off my barmaid."
With that, he wanders off to greet someone who's just walked in. But not before giving Kayden a warning glance sharp enough to slice leather.
I turn back to Kayden. "Don't get me fired. I mean it."
He brings his palms together like he's praying to every god in existence. "I swear on my brother's life, I'll behave."
Asher snorts. "That's not exactly comforting."
I laugh—really laugh—and it surprises me how easy it comes. It's starting to feel… right. Comfortable. Too comfortable, maybe.