Chapter 62
Sixty-Two
THEN | SISK
The train moves, and in the window, I see a girl who looks like she’s seen a ghost. That’s me. It’s been two years since I ran from Tar City. Two years of telling myself I was too busy to come back, like a job is a good reason to abandon your family.
Millie’s letters are all cheerful, all lies.
What else is she going to write? I mail her checks every month, a coward’s payment.
Each one is supposed to be a little piece of my freedom, a little eraser for the past, but the guilt is still there, a rock in my chest. And the closer this train gets to home, the heavier that rock gets, until I can barely breathe.
Lucas keeps glancing at the ring on my finger. “It looks good,” he says, taking my hand in his.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me wearing it… you know, without it being… official?”
“Of course.” He smiles, that easy, perfect smile. “I’m still hoping for a yes, though.”
I try to smile back. “I need you to see it first, okay?”
“Do you really think seeing your hometown or your family is going to change my mind about you?” he asks. “I told you—I don’t care about anything but you.”
I turn to the window and the smokestacks begin to rise in the distance.
“I know what kind of place you grew up in,” he adds.
“No,” I say, my voice flat. “You don’t.”
He shifts in his seat, a flicker of unease. “I love you.”
The words come so easy for him, it’s like they fall out of his mouth, as if they are simply another phrase he knows how to say.
“I know. Just… let me show you all this, and in the end, if you still want this—me—then…”
“You make it sound like a test.”
“Sorry.” I exhale. “I’m just really nervous about this. I haven’t been here in two years and…”
“Sisk.” He squeezes my hand. “I’m here, okay?”
The ring is heavy on my finger, and the way it slides around, a size too big, makes it impossible to forget it’s there.
“You think your dad will be okay with this? With us?”
“I’m sure,” I say confidently. “My dad will love you.”
Lucas is everything a girl is supposed to want in a husband.
He’s the whole checklist: caring, steady, handsome with a future mapped out in neat, straight lines.
He says all the right things at all the right times.
He’s nice. The word feels hollow, so small and bland for what he’s supposed to be, but it’s the only one that ever sticks.
For two years, I waited. I’d lie awake at night, half-hoping I’d hear a knock on my door, that Jax would show up and ruin everything for the better.
He never did. The longer he stayed gone, the more I made a point to move on.
I built a life so clean and perfect it’s like a fortress against the memory of him.
And now I’m dragging Lucas through the gates.
The train doors hiss open and with it comes a voice I haven’t heard in a long time. OUR DEAL IS NOT FORGOTTEN. WHAT IS OWED, WILL BE COLLECTED.
I grit my teeth and force it down, shoving the voice back into the past where it belongs.
Lucas adjusts the strap of his bag like this is just another station, a tourist bracing for a slight inconvenience.
“It’s… industrial,” he says carefully, the word a flimsy shield against the reality of the place.
“That’s one word for it.”
We make it halfway down the block before a hand shoots out from the alley, grabbing Lucas’s arm. He flinches, his whole body jerking in surprise. “What the—”
The man holding him is bone-thin, with a tangled beard that looks like it’s hiding things. He looks at Lucas and says, “You don’t belong here.”
Lucas tries to pull free. “Hey, man—”
“But she does,” the man whispers, a foul secret meant only for Lucas. “You can’t keep what the city’s already tasted.”
“Let him go,” I demand.
The man releases him abruptly and Lucas stumbles back, rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that?”
The man backs into the alley without breaking eye contact with me. “Count the shadows,” he calls softly.
“Crazy bastard.”
I stay quiet, because unfortunately, this is my hometown showing its true colors.
* * *
“I’m sorry,” I say the second we’re back on the street, the door to my building clicking shut behind us. “He’s not always like that.”
“You don’t have to apologize for your dad,” Lucas says gently, his hand finding mine. “I’m sure he’s just worried about your sister.”
“I can’t believe this,” I say, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’m mad at her, but I’m also… Fucking Pitfire, I’m worried. I knew I should’ve come home sooner.”
“You had your season,” Lucas says. “You were rehearsing six days a week. You just got your permanent position. You can’t be everywhere at once.”
“I should’ve known things were bad when she started asking for more money,” I mutter. “I’m grateful, by the way, for the loan.”
“It’s not a loan, Sisk,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I love you. I’m happy to help. You couldn’t have known. Your life there matters too.”
Tar City doesn’t care about what matters.
“So how far is this place?” Lucas asks as we walk.
“East side by The Cut.”
“The Cut?”
“Heart of the city,” I say quietly. “Asshole of the world.”
“That’s a nice tagline.”
I try to smile, it doesn’t work.
The train to arrive in Tar City is not the same as the one that crosses town.
This one is dirty and reeks of piss and booze.
The seats are sticky, every surface is filmed with grime, and the windows are so scratched up you can barely see the city outside.
A couple is arguing at the far end of the car and someone is sleeping across two seats.
This is the kind of train where you instinctively pull your bag a little closer to your lap and definitely don’t make eye contact with anyone.
Lucas stands close, one hand resting lightly at my waist.
We’re two stops from The Cut when the train slows under a bridge, and through the open side, I see them—a group of guys gathered near the platform below.
They’re crowding too close to two women backed against a wall.
The girls are laughing, but it’s fear I see.
The others on the train move closer to the windows, a silent, morbid audience.
Lucas shifts behind me. “Don’t stare,” he says quietly.
The train slows further and I grab the pole and bend forward, trying to see better. One of the girls says something and a guy grabs her wrist.
“That’s not—” I start.
“Sisk.”
“They need help.”
“You don’t know that.”
I turn to him. “They’re cornered.”
“And we’re outnumbered.”
The train starts moving again, the scene sliding past like a nightmare we’re lucky enough to miss. Lucas exhales slowly. “This isn’t our fight.”
I stare at him and a strong, unexpected disappointment hits me as I realize Lucas is the kind of guy who looks the other way.
We exit two stops later.
The Redline glows ahead and before we walk in, I pull Lucas aside. “Look,” I say quietly. “Millie is… struggling, okay? Don’t stare.”
He nods, his expression earnest. “I’m not here to judge your family.”
My eyes take a minute to adjust, and all I see are mirrors—everywhere, reflecting bodies from every angle.
I watch as a girl with silver rings through both nipples, a thin chain connecting them, dances solo on the counter, lost in the music.
A man leans over, trying to touch her, but she steps hard on his foot, and he yelps, pulling back.
What really steals my attention, though, are those damn lollipops. All the girls are sucking on them. Some of the men too. Most lips in here are stained dark, like they’ve been chewing on ink.
Lucas stiffens beside me, a statue in a den of sin.
A woman in thigh-high boots slides close, “You two looking for something private?” she asks, licking her lips. “Follow the red line—it’ll take you straight to paradise.”
I glance down at the red line crossing the floor, and I beg whatever force in the sky that paradise doesn’t include my sister.
“We’re good,” I cut in quickly.
Lucas clears his throat. “This place is…”
“Yeah.”
A man at the bar is tracing a girl’s tattoo with his finger like he paid for the right.
My eyes scan the room again, searching, and I start moving toward the bar.
“Hey,” I say, leaning against the sticky wood to get the bartender’s attention. “Do you know a girl named Millie? Or… Zaitseva?”
“No,” he says without looking up. “Nobody by that name.”
When he looks up properly, I recognize the green eyes, the shaved head. It’s the biker, Jax’s friend from that night.
He leans his forearms on the bar slightly. “You,” he says.
I don’t move.
“Visiting again?”
Lucas straightens beside me, his posture radiating polite confusion. “You two know each other?” he asks carefully.
The bartender’s mouth tilts. “Briefly.”
His eyes slide back to me, amused. “I didn’t catch your name last time.”
“I didn’t offer it.”
He chuckles. “Fair. I’m Matt.”
Lucas shifts closer. “She’s looking for her sister,” he says, a little too firmly.
Matt studies me again. “Sister?” he repeats.
“Yeah.”
“There’s a girl. Got the same look, like she’s gonna tell you to go fuck yourself. Calls herself Nurse. You can’t go up there, though. Private floor.”
Lucas stiffens at that.
“Thanks,” I say, moving toward it anyway.
“Careful,” he adds lightly. “Upstairs gets messy.”
We have barely opened the door when I see her. She’s leaning against a column, laughing at something a man says—and licking one of the lollipops between sentences, absentminded. The black sugar has stained the corner of her mouth.
“Lucas,” I say quietly.
He follows my gaze.
I move. “Mill—”
She turns and her eyes just slide right past me before they snap back into focus and her face drains of all color.
“What are you doing here?” she hisses, straightening instantly.
“I came to see you.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad said—”
Her eyes flick to Lucas behind me. “You brought someone?”
“He’s my—”
“Don’t,” she snaps.
The man beside her frowns. “You got a problem?”
“No,” she says quickly, forcing a smile at him. “Family thing.”
She grabs my wrist and drags me a few feet away, just out of earshot. “You can’t be here.”
“Millie—”
“You don’t belong here.”
Her pupils are blown wide. “You’re high.”
She laughs, offended. “I’m working.”
“You’re licking ash like it’s candy.”
“It is candy.”
“Millie.”
Her jaw tightens. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
She leans closer. “You need to leave.”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“It’s not up to you,” she whispers.
Behind us, Lucas stands awkwardly and out of place in his clean coat and polished shoes. Millie glances at him again. “He doesn’t belong here either.”
“I know.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t understand how this works.”
“I’m not leaving without you,” I say, my voice firm.
Millie’s eyes flash with something close to panic. She glances at the man she was with, then back at me. “You need to go,” she says through gritted teeth.
“Millie, I’m serious.”
“Take her,” Millie says, turning her desperate gaze to Lucas. “Please, just take her out of here.”
“Millie—”
“I’ll be home in the morning,” she cuts me off with an urgent hiss. “We can talk then. Don’t mess this up for me. I need this.”
My heart sinks.
“Please, Sisk,” she says, and the word is a surrender.
Lucas’s hand is on my arm, his grip gentle but insistent. “She’s right. We can’t help her like this. Let’s go.”
I look from his earnest face to my sister’s desperate one. Every instinct screams at me to stay, to fight, but I’m trapped. “Fine,” I manage, the word tasting like defeat. “We talk when you get off.”
Millie nods. “I promise.”
I let Lucas lead me away, but I don’t make it easy. Every step feels like a betrayal as we step back into the hallway with the red line.
“Can you stay right here?” he asks. “I just need the bathroom. Two minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Sure,” I say, crossing my arms.
He disappears through the door. I stand there, staring at the flickering EXIT sign, trying not to let my thoughts spiral. All I see is Millie’s face—the lollipop, her eyes. Before I can fully unravel, a hand clamps over my eyes and everything goes black.
I suck in a breath, ready to scream. A second hand covers my mouth, firm and unyielding. My instincts kick in. I thrash, trying to twist free, but I’m already being pulled backward. A door swings open and then it slams shut. I hear the lock click, and I panic.