"So, this is Sam—actually, Samantha—but if you want to survive, don't ever call her that." Warm brown eyes and long dark hair in the most flawless French braid I've ever seen, this woman in her early twenties has Dan grinning at her.The music, slow-beat hip-hop, isn't so loud that he has to yell to be heard because the night hasn't really begun yet."Hello, Lily." Sam grinned.Dan gestures to two men who are behind the bar. One man, with black hair and appearing to be in his late twenties, is mixing drinks so quickly that it appears as though he is blurring. "Goody. An exceptional mixologist. He is capable of making every cocktail that has ever been invented. And yeah.Grady nods towards me in between drinks, but his gaze never leaves the five glasses that are arranged in front of him on the bar.Then Dan gestures to the opposite end of the bar, where a lovely blonde's drink is going to be knocked over by a blond guy with a practised smile. Not that he would know, what with his preoc

After one look at my wrist's swelling—which was so severe that the bandage was slicing through my skin—I decided to take action. It was time for me to head home after my shift.Dan won't allow me to bring the tray over if any of my patrons order something heavier than a pint of beer."He simply is," I mumble.His hazel eyes are glowing with a smile, but I can see he won't be changing his mind, and I kind of like that.I appreciate how much he worries about my wrist and that he understands that I should be doing something more than spending all day and night in his flat. After my shift, he'll accompany me back to his flat, staying just long enough to make me feel less alone but not too long before it becomes awkward.I have endless time to ponder about Darius, Nathan, and everything else when I'm alone myself.My only thoughts while working at the bar are about who's going to get the next drink and how much tip I can get in three hours. I've never made more than $100 in tips a night, t

My laugh is a harsh sound, one that settles here amid this rubble. "Pardon me if I don't think you're real.""Assaf, they won't—"They'll do so. More loudly than I had planned, my voice comes out. I whisper, "I know them," as the memories that I'm trying not to think about come flooding back. "I am aware of everything they would do to me."Perhaps they will bind me to a wall like Darius would or tie me up and beat me like Felix likes to do. Perhaps they will throw a party for their guests and force me to crawl around them in my pants while carrying a platter of refreshments on my back.Like a canine.They might even force me to bark.Once more.Or worse, I make an effort not to consider. Never.My knees are being slashed, and I'm having trouble breathing.I have a damp face. Do I have blood? Is this something else, or what?Even when an arm slides between my knees and across my shoulders, it still feels like something else is happening to me."I won't be taken back. Just murder me, I

As I'm about to start over, assuming that Jade still sleeps in one of the first apartments I tried, I see a man approaching me through the glass door. He is carrying a black radio and is dressed in grey short sleeves and jeans.Guards!.B*tch.An apartment like this, all glass and steel, would naturally have security. The only person to answer the buzzer is exactly who had to have called him and told him about me.I stab at the keypad faster as he gets closer, mentally yelling at Jade to wake up from whatever whisky hangover he must be suffering.I begin to back away as the glass door opens, and he is touching a silver button next to it."What are you doing, hey?""I came here to see a friend."His gaze tightens. "Whom?"My eyes dart to the little circular speaker situated directly beneath the keypad. "Jade."Which flat number is it?Since I don't know how to respond to him, I take an additional step back in case he tries to seize me."What is the question I asked you?"Who the fuck i

"Today."I quickly turn to look to my right and see Finn resting against a bar corner, spilling the contents of an amber drink from one of the few glasses that has survived. I don't think of him as the kind to drink during the day. He seems too serious and solemn for that. However, given what transpired, I believe now is the right moment for a morning drink.He asks, "Why are you here?"Why does it seem like he's talking about something other than today?He drops the empty glass on the bar next to a half-empty decanter, and I have to push myself to look him in the eye. "I realize I'm not entitled to much because I only worked a few hours, but—""Hold here."I watch him as he stalks across the floor, avoiding the many obstructions with a level of elegance that I could never match. He must be the one responsible for the little piles of shattered tables and chair parts, but if he's doing this all by himself, he's going to have a busy day.He doesn't make me wait very long, which would ha