Chapter 27

VICTORIA – 

I haven’t moved from where Darius left me. Glass shards still scatter the rug, the whiskey stain bleeding into the fibers like rust. My chest is steady now, but only because I’m forcing it to be. The only trace of the outburst that ripped through me earlier is the faint tremor in my fingers.

Then the door opens.

Jennifer.

She steps inside like she’s done a thousand times before, but there’s a hesitation this time – barely there, but I catch it. Her eyes flick to the glass on the floor, then back to me.

“Rough night?” she says lightly. The tone is familiar, but the pitch is wrong – a touch too soft, too careful.

She moves further into the room, her heels muffled by the rug. Her gaze sweeps the mess, the bottle, me. The surprise on her face looks genuine, but something behind it doesn’t quite match.

I don’t respond. I just watch her.

I know this woman. She’s the closest thing to family I’ve had since Darius. Which makes all of this – this quiet theater of normalcy –unbearable.

Darius traced everything back to her. Jason was right. Jennifer is the leak.

And I can’t decide what hurts more – that she betrayed us, or that she’s standing here pretending she didn’t.

“You’re still here,” I say, my voice calm, measured.

She blinks, a quick flicker. “Yeah. Just checking in. There’s been some static downstairs – staff confusion, nothing serious.” She glances around again, then hesitates. “Also…”

Her mouth tightens before she adds, “I saw her earlier. Avery.”

My pulse spikes, but I stay still.

Jennifer studies me, like she’s trying to read what that name does to me. “She looked… rough,” she says quietly. “Like she’s not sleeping much.” A pause. “You two okay?”

I give her a faint, humorless smile. “I didn’t know we were gossiping now.”

Jennifer huffs a small laugh – nervous, not mocking. “Just making conversation,” she says. “You’ve been… harder to reach lately. I figured I’d check in before things get worse.”

The way she says it – before things get worse – lands wrong. It feels deliberate. Like she’s testing how much I already know.

I step around the desk slowly, closing the space between us until there’s barely an inch left.

Jennifer’s breath catches. Only for a heartbeat. Then she straightens her shoulders, schooling her face back into calm. But that flicker – I saw it.

“You should get some sleep,” I murmur, voice low.

She nods, too quickly. “Yeah. You too.” Then, with a faint attempt at levity that doesn’t quite land: “No offense, but you look like hell.”

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

When she turns to leave, I catch a glimpse of her hand trembling as she reaches for the doorknob. She steadies it almost instantly — a soldier remembering her training.

And then she’s gone.

I stare at the door long after it closes.

If she’s guilty – if she’s the reason there’s a target on Avery’s back – she knows I’m coming. Next time, she won’t walk out so easily.

And yet I can’t do anything about it. Not now.

Darius made me promise I’d wait. He told me to hold back until he could figure out the next move. If we push her now – if we corner her – she’ll vanish. She knows every route, every safehouse; she’ll melt into a shadow and we’ll lose the only thread that might lead us to the people who sent those men after Jason. He’s scared, and I can see why. If Jennifer disappears, she takes whatever she knows with her.

So we buy time. We pretend. We keep our faces calm while we gather proof.

It feels like betrayal – of instinct, of the part of me that wanted to tear her apart the second I saw those photos – but it’s the smarter cruelty. For Avery’s sake, for everyone’s, I will pretend to wait.

For now.

***

AVERY –

I think I’ve officially lost my mind.

I need to get out of this apartment – out of my head, out of the ache that’s been looping on repeat for days.

So, I do the only thing that makes sense in this moment: I take the longest shower of my life. I stand under a torrent of near-scalding water, lost in the white noise and the steam until the world beyond the glass ceases to exist. When I finally step out, the silence is deafening. I don’t risk a look at the stranger in the mirror. My path leads directly to the closet where I pull out the suit.

The suit.

The one she picked for me. The one that made me feel powerful the first time I wore it. The one I wore when she looked at me like she wanted to devour me whole.

It still smells faintly like her – a trace of her perfume mixed with smoke and leather and something sharper underneath.

I put it on anyway. Brush out my hair. And slip on the heels I swore I’d never wear again.

Juno hops onto the arm of the couch, tail flicking, golden eyes narrowed in judgment.

“I know,” I tell her with a half-smile, my voice thick. “It’s dramatic. I’m being insane.”

She meows – short, unimpressed – and I take it as agreement.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Maybe you’re right.”

But I don’t care.

I’m going.

I grab my keys before I can talk myself out of it. My pulse is wild, unsteady, but the decision feels clear – maybe the first thing that’s felt clear in days.

I’m going to Lilith.

I need to see her. I need to tell her how I feel. Even if it doesn’t change anything. Even if she’s already erased whatever we were. At least I will have tried. I will not spend the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t accepted her silence.

The drive is a blur — a series of lights and turns I don’t register, streets I’ve driven a hundred times but can’t remember now. By the time I reach the club, my hands are shaking around the steering wheel.

I park, step out, and the cold night air bites at my chest through the thin fabric of my blouse. The neon glow of Lilith washes everything in crimson, and I pause at the entrance, my heart pounding so loud I can hear it.

I should turn around. Get back in the car. Pretend this was just a bad idea I never followed through on.

But my feet won’t move.

Levi, one of the regular bouncers, spots me. He studies me for a moment — that brief flicker of recognition, then a small nod. Without a word, he opens the door.

Good. I’m still welcome here. She didn’t ban me.

And the second I step inside, the familiar scent hits — perfume, whiskey, the faint trace of leather and spice that always clings to this place.

The sound of low music, the glow of warm light against dark walls.

Club Lilith feels like home.

And somewhere inside, I know she’s here.

Her presence hums through the air, the same way her scent lingers — impossible to mistake, impossible to forget.

***

VICTORIA –

I moved from the quiet of my office to the low bass of the main floor. The crowd moves around me like static – buzzing, shifting, meaningless.

It’s Friday night, and Lilith hums the way it always does. Bodies pressed together in dark corners, laughter sliding between half-empty glasses, deals being made in shadows. It should be comforting. It used to be comforting.

This place was my pulse. Now it’s just… noise.

I stand on the balcony overlooking the crowd with a drink in hand, pretend to watch the crowd below me, but I’m not really seeing them.

I start thinking maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should go home, sleep it off, try again tomorrow. So I push away from the railing and turn around – and my breath catches. Standing there, as if my thoughts had summoned her, is Avery.

For a second, I think I’ve finally lost it. That my mind decided to play a cruel joke and conjure her out of thin air. But no – she’s real. She’s here.

She walks toward me, and I drink her in like oxygen after a long drought. That suit, that walk, the stubborn set of her jaw. She’s magnetic. She always has been.

But it’s her eyes that destroy me.

Not just because they’re beautiful – God, they are – but because they’re empty. Swollen. Hollowed. Like someone reached in and scooped the light right out of them.

And that someone… was me.

I did this. I’m the reason her light’s gone. 

And now she’s standing in front of me, looking like everything I lost and everything I still want.

I want to pull her in. Kiss her until she forgets the pain. Whisper apologies into every corner of her soul. Make love to her so slowly the world forgets to turn.

Yes. Make love.

Not fuck. Not break. Not dominate.

I’m past that now. She got me past that.

But I can’t.

Not here. Not in this place, where every corner has eyes, and every whisper travels. Not while danger still circles too close. If they see her near me again, she becomes a target – and I can’t protect her if she stays close.

That thought terrifies me more than anything else.

So I do what I always do.

Nothing.

I keep my face steady. My posture sharp. I look at her like I’m fine. Like she’s just another person in the room and not the only thing that ever made sense.

But inside?

Inside I’m bleeding.

***

AVERY –

I should hate her.

I should want to scream every hurt, angry thing I’ve thought for the last week right in her face. But all I want to do is kiss her. To tell her that I love her, that she shattered me, and that I need her to be the one to put me back together.

Or just wreck me all over again, if that’s the only way she knows how to love.

I cross the club, the floor feeling unsteady beneath my feet. I’m all anger and desperate need. But just as I get close, she turns and starts to walk away. Like I’m a stranger. Like the last few months meant nothing.

I freeze for a single heartbeat. Then I follow her. “Victoria?” My voice is tight and louder than I meant it to be. She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow down. “Victoria, stop.” My hand closes around her wrist.

And that’s all it takes. She spins around, a sharp, fluid movement, and shoves me back against the wall. Her arm bars across my chest, caging me in. Her face is inches from mine, and her eyes… Her eyes are wild, burning. But beneath the fire, I see it. I see it clearly. Fear. Pain. Regret.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she snaps. “I told you. We’re over. Done. I don’t want–”

“Bullshit.“

The word cuts her off. She goes completely still. “Bullshit,” I say again, quieter this time.

“Eyes don’t lie, Victoria. And what I see in them right now isn’t even close to being ‘done.’

I pause, swallowing around the tightness in my throat. “You can’t lie to me about this.”

She just stares at me, as if I’ve spoken in a language she doesn’t understand. “You don’t know anything about me,” she says, her voice low.

“I know enough to see right through you,” I counter. She blinks, thrown off balance.

“You don’t kiss and fuck someone like that unless it meant something.”

“Maybe I’m just very good at pretending,” she bites back.

“You are,” I admit. “But you can’t fake the way you made me feel.”

I hear my own voice soften, feel my breath tremble. In response, she swallows hard, her gaze flickering down to my mouth.

A beat.

And that’s when she breaks.

She kisses me, hard and desperate, like she’s been starving for it. Like these weeks have been tearing her apart inside, same as me.

I kiss her back just as fiercely, one hand fisting in her shirt, the other tangling in her hair. I breathe her in like she’s the only thing that can save me.

Without a thought, I grab her hand and press it firmly between my legs. She gasps against my lips when she feels the damp heat through my clothes. When she feels how much I still want her, how much I still need her.

My hand covers hers, holding it tighter, and I start to move against her palm, desperate for the pressure. “Stop,” she whispers, her voice rough. But I don’t. “I can’t,” I breathe, my eyes closed, my forehead pressed to hers. “I need you, Victoria.”

A shudder runs through her. Her fingers press harder against me, a silent confession. And for one suspended second, we’re there again – tangled between fury and lust, between pain and want, between the worst kind of goodbye and the most dangerous kind of love.

***

VICTORIA –

Her hand is so warm. Her breath whispers my name, and it sounds like a promise and a plea all at once. It’s everything I wanted. And everything I know I can’t allow myself to have. My whole body is rigid, locked down. My jaw aches from the pressure. I should shove her away. I should say something so final and cruel that it kills this for good. That would be the clean way. The easy way. But then her fingers move, guiding mine with a soft, certain pressure. Her mouth is still on mine, her breath hot, and the need building between us is a fire I can’t control.

But I have to stop this.

We can’t be doing this. Not here in this hallway. Not when someone out there wants her to be the weakness they exploit. And God help me, she is my weakness. The only one that truly matters.

I step back. The movement is rough, sudden, like I’m tearing myself away from a magnet. The look on her face collapses. Confusion shifts into pure hurt, right in front of my eyes. My throat feels like it’s closing, but I keep my expression blank. Impassive. “You need to go,” I tell her. My voice is low, but it leaves no room for argument. Her breath catches. Just a sharp, quiet hitch. I can see the battle in her eyes. The urge to yell, to fight, to grab me and shake the truth loose. But she doesn’t. She just nods and lets out a slow, shaky breath. “Okay.” A single, quiet word. Her chin trembles, but she holds it high. She doesn’t let herself cry. Not here. Not for me. She just looks at me for a long moment, as if she’s finally understanding what we’re losing. Then she turns and walks away.

A paralyzing weight locks my feet to the floor. My chest feels split open, my heart a raw, exposed nerve, as I stare helplessly at the void she left behind – at the dark wall, at the utter nothingness.

And I feel it rising inside me. That familiar pressure behind my eyes. The sharp sting in my sinuses. A cold numbness spreading through my arms and legs. The last time I cried was the night the jury found me not guilty. The night the system failed to punish me. But I didn’t cry for my freedom. I cried because it was all too late to matter.

But right now, it’s taking every bit of my strength to hold it back. Every part of me is screaming to run after her, to fall to my knees and beg her to forgive me, to understand. But if I do that… if I keep her… I could get her killed. 

And losing her that way would be a pain I could never survive.