But Portland’s coming, and it’s never good. Alexei’s nameon Nolan’s lips earlier still sits like a wildly uncomfortable weight in my gut. That man is the worst one Nolan has ever worked with. A Russian crime lord? The fuck is he even thinking getting involved with him? Not to mention, high-paying clients like him always mean danger. And danger means blood, unfortunately.
I roll onto my side, stare at the silver moonlight bleeding through the window. I press the heel of my hand to my eyes.
Just a few more days,I tell myself.If I can make it through fucking Portland.
Friday morning hits way too bright. I didn’t really sleep—just drifted in and out until my alarm went off, stomach already twisting with what’s ahead. Portland. Alexei. The “clients.” Whatever that means this time.
I shower, dress, and take some oxy before I can think twice. The sharper and annoying edges soften. My thoughts slow enough that I can breathe. That dull warmth floods my veins, and for a few minutes, I can almost pretend the day won’t end in blood. My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
EMMA
Hey, what are you doing this weekend?
I hesitate before answering. She doesn’t need to know the truth, but lying feels wrong now.
Portland. Work stuff. I’ll be gone a couple days.
There’s a pause, then her reply lights up the screen:
EMMA
Okay. Be careful, please. I might get a hotel over there. Just in case you need somewhere to go. You don’t have to come, but I’ll be there.
For a second, I can’t breathe. My thumbs hover over the keyboard.
You don’t have to do that, Em.
EMMA
I know. I just want to.
That one gets me. I shut my eyes, jaw tight. The drug vibrates under my skin, but it doesn’t quiet the guilt. I type out athank you, something small and meaningless compared to what Iwantto say. Then I toss the phone onto the bed and grab my jacket.
Outside, the air smells like rain. Nolan’s already in the driver’s seat of the limo, engine running. Adriana’s in the passenger seat, oversized sunglasses, lipstick too red for this early in the day. She doesn’t look back when I slide in beside Micah.
Micah’s tapping his knee, restless. “You good?” he mutters.
I nod. Lie. “Yeah.” The leather’s cold against my skin. Adriana finally turns around just enough to flash me a smile that makes my stomach turn. Nolan says something about “Alexei’s expecting us by seven,” and my chest tightens. I glance down at my text thread with Emma.
Just in case you need somewhere to go.
My throat burns. I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling as the car pulls away from the curb.
The city is a blur of neon and drizzle by the time we pull up to the penthouse. Same one as last time. Same doorman who doesn’t look us in the eyes. Portland looks alive tonight, but to me it just feels hollow. Every time we come here, it’s the same script—Adriana plays my girlfriend, Nolan cracks his jokes, and Micah and I play the good boys.
“Bring your guitar up,” Nolan demands as we get out of the car. “You’re high, right? We’re going to need that soul. And fire.”
I swallow. “I’m always fucking high.”
Adriana narrows her eyes, but I don’t give a damn. We ride the elevator in silence. The higher we go, the tighter my chest feels. Nolan’s scrolling through his phone, Adriana’s humming to herself, and Micah catches my eye. That look he gives me—half dread, half warning—it saysyou know this won’t be good.
The doors slide open, and Alexei is waiting, tall and sharp in a gray suit. He looks like money and malice in human form. “Ah, boys,” he says, spreading his arms like he’s welcoming family. Heclaps my shoulder too hard, his cologne biting at my nose. “You look better. Getting some good rest on your little break, da?”
I give him a tight smile. “Something like that.”
He laughs, then glances at Adriana. “Keep him that way.”
The penthouse smells like expensive liquor and cigarette smoke. The windows stretch from floor to ceiling, looking out at the city lights. A small band’s playing in the corner instead of the obnoxious playlist last time when Adriana rode me in front of all of their wealthy friends.