LOGINThe engine ticked quietly as it cooled, the night pressing in around them. He had parked the car at the river where they found her, Lila.He sat with the bottle resting against his knee, his fingers loose around the neck of it, staring out through the windshield as if the answers might be waiting out there if he looked long enough.Beside him, Marisol shifted slightly, the leather seat creaking under the movement. She didn’t rush him, didn’t fill the silence the way most people would. She just waited for him to grapple with his thoughts.Ethan lifted the bottle and took a long drink, the burn hitting harder than usual, settling somewhere low in his chest without easing anything.“Are you sure?” he asked finally, his voice rougher than he intended.Marisol didn’t answer straight away. She watched him for a moment, then reached for the bottle, her fingers brushing his as she took it from him, not pulling away immediately.“I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t,” she replied, quieter now.
Ethan’s stomach turned hard enough that he had to brace his hand against the edge of the table, swallowing back the surge that climbed his throat before it could take control of him. The room felt wrong, like the air had thickened, pressing in from all sides in a way that made it harder to think clearly.Remy reached for him, her fingers brushing his hand.“Don’t touch me,” he said, his voice low but sharp enough to cut.She froze, her expression folding in on itself as tears gathered in her eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”Ethan let out a breath that carried more frustration than he intended, dragging his hand back through his hair as he tried to steady himself.“What’s wrong with me,” he repeated, his voice tightening despite himself. “You think I could be your father and your first instinct is to climb into bed with me. You don’t see a problem with that.”“You wanted it too,” she shot back, her voice breaking as she tried to hold her ground.Ethan stepped back, putting space between
Ethan sat alone in his office with a glass of wine untouched in his hand. Vince had called, something had gone sideways, and he already knew it was Remy because lately everything seemed to find its way back to her, whether he wanted it to or not.He leaned forward, pressing his fingers to his temple, then ran his hand through his hair, trying to calm the restlessness inside him. There was a time when nothing got past him, when every move felt deliberate and clear. He could read a room, a person, a situation, and always knew where he stood. That certainty had faded, worn away bit by bit, until he no longer trusted his own judgment.He knew when it had started.Lila’s death.For a moment, he closed his eyes, and he could see her as she had been before everything turned to shit, before the distance, before the secrets, before the night she walked out and never came back.He had thought, for one brief second that morning when Marisol walked into his room, that somehow life had decided to
“Who was it?” Isla asked, her voice sharp with panic as she stood just inside the motel room, her pulse still racing from the knock.Chad didn’t answer immediately.He was standing in the doorway, staring down at the ground like something had rooted him there.“Chad?”“There’s a crow out here,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, tighter. “Dead. And there’s something tied around its leg.”Isla went cold.“What the fuck?”She moved toward him, stopping just short of the doorway, like crossing it might make everything worse.“Do you think it’s a warning?”“I don’t know,” Chad said, though the way his shoulders had gone rigid told her he had a pretty good idea. “But I don’t think we should stick around to find out.”Her mind started racing.“What do we do?” she asked quickly. “We can’t go back. We can’t stay here. What if we’ve been followed? What if...”“Hey,” Chad cut in, turning back to her, stepping inside, and shutting the door with more force than necessary. “Calm down.”“I am
The bus rumbled along the interstate, creating a world apart for Isla and Chad. They took the back row on the right, where it felt more private and the lights didn’t flicker as much. Backpacks filled with cash, spare clothes, and nothing that could identify them sat at their feet. Their phones and cars were gone, left behind in a dumpster at a rest stop hours earlier. For the next five days, they planned to disappear.Isla leaned her head on Chad’s shoulder, her hand resting casually on his thigh in a silent reassurance. The bus was only half-full, most passengers dozing or staring at their own screens. The driver had the radio on low, some classic rock station droning through the miles. She glanced up at him, eyes bright with that mix of adrenaline and mischief that had defined the last twenty-four hours—her heartbeat quick and her nerves buzzing.“Still nervous?” she whispered.Chad gave a small, uneasy laugh, but his fingers tightened anxiously around hers, betraying the anxiety he
Isla walked into Dirty Angels; her panic had somewhat faded, although every decision felt heavy with consequences she couldn’t escape. The door shut behind her, and the bar seemed to swallow her whole. Marisol waited at the bar, turned halfway, relaxed but alert. She noticed Isla right away, giving her a quick, inquisitive look that missed nothing. “You look like hell,” Marisol said, sliding off the stool. Isla exhaled shakily. “I feel like it.” Marisol didn’t ask for details. “We’re leaving.” Isla followed her without argument, the club's ambiance fading while they walked into the night toward Marisol's car. They drove just far enough for the streets to turn rougher, less polished. Marisol parked outside a low building lit only by a faint red spill across the sidewalk. “Better,” she said, killing the engine. Inside the strip club, it was a different world. At the center, under golden lights, a dancer worked the pole in nothing but a G-string. Her skin glistened, catching every
The city lights streaked past, but she refused to look at them, or at Lorenzo. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. Stillness between them was a living thing.She had been challenging Ethan in his office when Lorenzo had interfered.“We’re leaving,” he’d said, vo
The black mask pressed to Marvin's face like a second skin, the edges cool to his temples, the eye slits narrowing the world to slits of shadow and candlelight.’Waylon stood at a heavy table, a silver tray laden with assorted chemicals, to enhance tonight's events. All designed to help him keep up
The restaurant was a high-class sanctuary. Marvin Vale sat at the long table. To his left, his assistant Waylon sat, keeping him informed of any current happenings. Across from him, the French President leaned toward his wife, murmuring something that made her laugh low. Around them orbited polit
The drums had long since faded into a low, persistent throb that lived in the marrow now, indistinguishable from the wet slap of flesh on flesh, the guttural groans that rose and fell like surf.The grand hall of the ancient mansion had become a writhing sea of bodies, limbs tangled, mouths open in







