All Chapters of A DEBT PAID IN FLESH AND SECRETS: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The safe house was too quiet. It was a thick, heavy silence that made the ringing in my ears from the explosion even louder. I sat in a hard wooden chair pulled right up to the side of the bed, my knees brushing against the mattress. I hadn't changed my clothes. I was still covered in the grey ash and black soot from the club, my skin stinging from the heat, but I couldn't bring myself to move.I watched Raine. He looked so fragile lying there, his chest rising and falling in a shallow, uneven rhythm. Every few minutes, his breath would hitch, a small, pained wheeze escaping his throat, and my heart would stop until he took the next one."Easy, baby," I whispered, reaching out with a trembling hand.I took a soft cloth from a basin of cool water on the nightstand. I squeezed it out and gently wiped a streak of black soot from his temple. I moved slowly, barely pressing down, as if he might break if I touched him too hard. I cleaned his forehead, then his cheeks, tracing the line of his

I didn’t stay in the living room for long. Marco kept glancing at the front door like he expected Andreas to burst through it at any second and start shooting. I managed to limp back to the bedroom, my legs feeling like jelly, and headed straight for the bathroom.The shower was massive, tiled in a dark grey stone that felt cool under my feet. I stood under the spray for a long time, letting the hot water wash away the last of the soot and the smell of the fire. My skin was red and tender in some places, but mostly I was just bruised. I dressed in a clean pair of soft grey sweatpants and a black hoodie I found in the closet. It was definitely Andreas’s. It was too big for me, and the sleeves hung over my hands, but it smelled like his skin and woodsmoke. It made me feel a little less hollow.I was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to brush my damp hair, when I heard the heavy sound of a car pulling up outside. A minute later, the front door slammed, and I heard the low, sharp murm

I stayed in the room, watching the clock on the wall until it finally hit four. Right on time, there was a sharp knock at the door. I didn't even have time to say "come in" before a small army of people marched inside.The leader was a tall, thin man with bright silver hair and a measuring tape draped over his neck like a snake. He was followed by two assistants carrying heavy garment bags and a rolling rack of fabric samples."Oh, look at him! Look at that bone structure!" the silver-haired man cried out. He moved with so much energy it made my head spin. He circled me like a shark, clicking his tongue. "I am Remy. And you, darling, are a canvas. A beautiful, pale, traumatized canvas.""I'm Raine," I said, feeling awkward as he started poking at my shoulders."You are perfection," he corrected, snapping his fingers at his assistants. "Fabric! Now! We need jewel tones. No, wait. Midnight black. With a sheen. Like oil on water."The room became a whirlwind of movement. One of the assist

 Andreas had left before the sun was even up, and Dante had vanished into the basement levels, leaving the main floor oddly still.For the first time in days, the walls didn't feel like they were leaning in on me. I felt restless, a nervous energy humming under my skin that made it impossible to sit still. I needed to move my hands. I needed to do something that felt real, something that belonged to the world outside this stone fortress.I wandered down to the kitchen. It was a massive, cold space with industrial stainless steel appliances and grey stone counters that felt like ice. I started rummaging through the pantry, pushing aside expensive jars of truffles and imported oils until I found the basics. Flour. Eggs. Sugar. Salt.I grabbed a large ceramic bowl and started measuring. I didn’t need a recipe; I had made these a thousand times back when life was simple, back when the only fire I had to worry about was the one under a frying pan.

 The day of the Gala felt like a slow-motion countdown. I spent most of it locked in my room, staring at the suit the tailors had finished. It was laid out on the bed like a person—deep, midnight black silk that seemed to drink the light. Next to it sat a mask. It was a simple, elegant thing, made of matte black metal that felt cold to the touch.I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I didn't recognize the boy looking back. The suit fit me like a second skin, hugging my shoulders and tapering at my waist. I looked expensive. I looked like I belonged to someone who owned the city."You're just a trophy, Asher," I whispered to my reflection. "Don't forget that. Don't let the silk make you soft."I took a deep breath, trying to calm the shaking in my hands. My mind was still on Marco’s story about the target list. Every time I thought about Andreas, my heart did this painful double-thump—half love, half terror. I had to stay f