I don't open my eyes when the footsteps get closer.
I know it's Lee.
I know the exact weight of his steps, the way he drags his heels when he's not in the mood to deal with anything.
A twig snaps, then silence.
He's standing right in front of me. Waiting.
Typical. He wants me to talk first—see how pissed I am.
But not this time. I'm not breaking first.
He shifts. I hear him crouch. Then a hand rests on my knee.
The smell hits me immediately—liquor and smoke. I wrinkle my nose.
"How mad are you?" he asks, voice lower than usual.
I snap my eyes open and meet his wide green ones. His pupils are huge—black swallowing green.
"You smell like a dumpster," I mutter. "And what the hell is wrong with your eyes?"
He winces, rubbing the back of his neck, gaze skittering away.
"Adria, I'm sorry," he says after a moment. "I had a few drinks. I got caught up in the moment. I didn't mean to snap at you."
Still not looking at me.
I look down at my lap, my voice tight.
"Well, you did."
"I know."
He flops down beside me, arms resting on his bent knees.
"I was just… I don't know. Enjoying being a teenager for five minutes. Not worrying about food or hiding or whatever. I met a girl. It's been years since I let myself… just feel normal. Then you called, and I snapped."
I glance sideways at him through my lashes.
He's not lying.
And even though I'm still angry, there's a part of me that aches for him too.
Maybe I am selfish—wanting him around all the time. Maybe he needs a break from me the same way I'm scared of losing him.
I shift behind him, lay my head against his back, and wrap my arms around him from behind.
"I'm sorry too, Lee," I whisper.
He squeezes my hand where it rests on his chest. "I'm sorry, Adria. Really."
We sit like that a long while—quiet. Still.
Maybe ten minutes. Maybe more.
Then my phone buzzes on the grass behind us.
I reach over to grab it, and Lee tilts his head.
"Who's texting you?"
I don't answer right away. I unlock the screen and read:
Damsel: I forgot to say—if you do this for me, I'll pay you.
Me: Deal. See you later.
I lock the phone again and turn to Lee.
"Remember that guy we saved last year?"
Lee squints at me. "Yeah… why?"
"Well—long story short—he gave me a ride last night. And he mentioned he's got a problem. So I told him… we'd help."
For a beat, Lee looks at me like I just spoke in another language.
Then his whole face changes.
"What the fuck do you mean he gave you a ride back?"
He's on his feet in a second, towering over me, eyes blazing.
"Adria, I've warned you! Over and over—never bring people near where we live!"
"I didn't—"
"No!" he shouts, voice echoing off the trees. "I leave you alone for one fucking night and you let some stranger bring you home?!"
"He dropped me off at Maverick Lane!" I shout back, jumping to my feet. "I walked back by myself. Took me over an hour. In the dark."
He's still glaring, but at least he's not yelling now.
"Second," I continue, breathing hard, "he helped me. Without him, I might not've made it back at all. He was there when you weren't. And yeah, he needs help, and I said we'd help him. We're going tonight. That's that."
His jaw twitches.
"And third—" I stab a finger at his chest, "if you ever talk to me like that again, I will stab you in your sleep."
I shove past him and yank open the wooden door to the den.
I don't bother slamming it. I just disappear down the stairs, fury buzzing in my bones.
Lee follows a few seconds later, his footsteps softer, but I don't acknowledge him.
I throw myself onto my bed and yank the blanket over me, willing my heart to slow down.
Tonight, I meet Jensen.
Whether Lee likes it or not.
Damsel: Where are you?
Me: Ten minutes away.
Damsel: You said that thirty minutes ago. You walking or crawling?
Me: Walking.
Damsel: It's fifteen miles from where you live. You could've told me—I would've picked you up.
Me: Next time you need saving, I'll remember that. What is this, the second time now?
Damsel: Very funny. Don't forget—I didn't rat you out for stealing my wallet and my boss's Rolex. Plus, I took you home. We're even.
Me: Still holding onto that, huh?
Damsel: You're the first person who ever pickpocketed me. Can't forget your first time.
Me: I like to keep things interesting.
Damsel: That, kid, I believe.
"Where is he?" Lee stops walking abruptly, and I nearly bump into him.
I slide my phone into my pocket, glancing up. In the distance, the red neon glow of BLACK-LONE blinks like a warning. The whole building's matte black, windows tinted, and the line of people stretches like a snake along the sidewalk.
"He said he'd be waiting for us," I mutter.
Lee turns, scowling down at me. "I don't like this. I don't like him. We do this one job, and that's it. You're not seeing him again."
He says it like a rule. Like he gets to decide.
My fists clench. "He's my friend, Lee."
I didn't mean for that to sound so bitter, but it slips out before I can check it.
And it's true. Jensen's my friend. The first real one since Lee.
Lee's eyes darken. "You don't need more friends. Especially not some shady guy who rides with helmeted freaks."
"And what—you get to have your fun?" My voice rises. "You disappear all night with some girl and leave me to walk home in the dark, and I can't have a conversation with one person?"
Lee grabs my arm. "Don't be naïve, Adria."
"Don't touch me," I snap, yanking my arm back. "He was there when you weren't."
"Because you don't listen!" Lee shouts. "You don't think. I told you—don't bring strangers close to us!"
We're so focused on each other we don't notice the noise behind us until a soft "Hey," cuts through the tension.
We both freeze.
Turning, I see them: Jensen and his friend Sam. They're standing under a tree like they've been there a while. Sam's leaning casually against the trunk, a cigarette between his fingers. Jensen? He's not smiling.
His eyes are locked on Lee's hand still wrapped around my bicep.
I tear my arm away.
"Everything okay?" Sam asks, voice calm, but curious.
Lee says nothing, just glares. I force a smile. "Yeah. Everything's fine."
My voice sounds fake even to me.
Did they hear the fight? All of it?
Sam and Jensen walk over, and I feel the heat crawl up my neck. I stare at the pavement, refusing to meet Jensen's eyes.
"Hey, JB," Sam says with a smirk. I glance up briefly and nod at him.
Lee steps in front of me. "So, what's the plan? Or are we just supposed to wing it while you text fifteen-year-olds?"
My breath catches.
"Lee!" I hiss.
He doesn't even look at me. "What? I'm asking a question."
Jensen's gaze doesn't flicker. "You got something to say, say it."
"Oh, I am," Lee snaps. "You're how old exactly? Twenty? Twenty-one? And you're texting some teenage girl to do your dirty work? That's pretty fucked up, man."
Humiliation floods me. My cheeks burn.
Without a word, I spin on my heel and storm off toward the club.
I'm done.
Done with Lee's lectures. Done with him trying to control everything I do.
I don't need permission to breathe.
I cross the street and reach the sidewalk just as the club doors swing open.
A guy stumbles out, arms slung over two bleached blondes. Loud music pulses behind him.
Something about him sets off a warning in my gut—slick smile, cocky swagger, expensive watch that glints under the streetlights.
That's him.
A black car pulls up to the curb just ahead. The guy turns toward it, laughing.
Showtime.
I take a breath, then break into a sprint.
"Help!" I scream as loud as I can, my voice echoing through the street.
The man turns just in time for me to crash into him full force.
We both go down, tangled limbs and limbs.
The girls shriek.
The bouncer yells something.
While the guy groans above me, I slip my hand into his jacket pocket, snatch the phone, and tug the watch loose with a practiced flick.
He tries to push off me, and I help him just enough to slip the phone and watch into my coat pocket.
"Sorry!" I gasp dramatically, then dart to my feet.
The bouncer reaches down to help the guy, giving me my chance.
I run.
Fast.
"Hey, kid! Wait!" someone yells behind me. But I don't stop.
I tear down the sidewalk, heart pounding, the thrill hitting all at once.
The chase.
The rush.
The win.
I don't stop running.
The sound of people shouting fades behind me, drowned out by the thunder of my own heartbeat. Streetlights blur past. My sneakers slap the pavement, fast and light.
I don't look back. I never look back.
I've done this a hundred times with Lee—but tonight, I'm alone.
I don't even know where I'm going until the buildings thin out and I'm suddenly on a long stretch of road lined with trees.
No lights. No signs. Just shadows swallowing everything whole.
Shit.
I slow down, panting, realizing I must've taken a wrong turn. Behind me? Silence.
In front of me? Woods.
Real fucking woods.
Normally that wouldn't scare me. I've lived in the trees. Slept in dirt. Climbed and crawled through the black.
But something about this place feels wrong. Cold.
Still catching my breath, I spin in a slow circle. There's no one. No headlights. Not even the low hum of passing traffic. Just…dark.
I pull out my phone to check where I am.
No signal.
Of course.
Because the world clearly hates me tonight.
Frustrated, I shove it back into my pocket and curse under my breath. I glance over my shoulder. Still nothing.
Then I hear it.
The low, snarling purr of an engine.
A single headlight cuts around the bend behind me.
Motorcycle.
Shit. Shit.
I react instantly, bolting into the woods without a second thought. Branches claw at my arms. Leaves whip my cheeks. I duck under limbs and dive behind a thick tree, pressing myself against the trunk, heart hammering.
The bike slows. Stops.
Right where I was standing.
They saw me.
I hold my breath, pressing a hand over my mouth, trying not to move, not to think.
Please keep going. Just drive away. Please, please, please—
Twigs snap behind me.
Too close.
Then a voice.
"Adria."
I freeze. My head jerks toward the sound.
It's him.
"Jensen?" I breathe.
He steps into view, the trees parting behind him like they don't dare touch him.
Relief hits me so hard I almost drop.
"Come on, kid," he says softly, holding out his hand.
Without a word, I push off the tree and walk toward him. My legs are shaking a little, but I don't care. I reach him, and he puts a steady hand on my back, guiding me back to the road.
His bike sits parked by the curb, idling quietly.
Before he can say anything, I snatch the helmet off the seat and pull it on, clicking the strap into place.
When I glance at him, he's smirking.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing," he says, amused. "Just—you're kind of a badass."
I roll my eyes. "Tell Lee that."
He swings a leg over the bike and gestures for me to hop on. I hesitate.
"Where's Lee?" I ask.
"With Sam," Jensen says, voice low. "He's fine. I came to find you. I always keep my promises."
And somehow, I believe him.
I climb on behind him, wrapping my arms around his middle. His body's warm. Solid. Familiar in a way that shouldn't be possible.
He starts the bike.
"Jensen," I mutter, leaning closer. "What are you doing?"
He turns his head just enough to flash a grin at me over his shoulder, mischief glowing in those electric-blue eyes.
"Remember what I said I'd do the next time you got on my bike?"
Realization hits me.
"Don't you dare—"
But he does.
He takes off like a shot.
The bike roars, tires screaming against the asphalt as we rocket down the empty road.
"Jensen!" I shout, laughing and panicking all at once, holding on for dear life.
Trees fly by in a blur. Wind tears at my clothes. But I can't stop smiling.
The fear, the anger, the weight in my chest—it's all drowned out by this wild, reckless ride.
I press my cheek against his back, closing my eyes for just a moment, and let myself feel something I haven't in a long time.
Free.