Chapter 18

STEVIE

The antique tea cup warms my hands as I lean against the counter, sipping on the herbal tea I brewed to calm my nerves. My eyes are fixated on the floor where, just a few hours ago, a life was taken. You wouldn't know it now, though. Greyson and Lennox left no trace, nothing out of place. They even spent hours replacing the broken glass doors with new ones, ensuring that to fresh eyes, it would seem like everything is in order. I didn't ask what they did with the body. To be honest I don't think I want to know, but I do find myself a bit concerned with how easily removing it and all evidence seemed to come to both of them.

Like they've done it before.

Like death and destruction are nothing new to them.

It just goes to show I have no idea who I'm dealing with. Who Lennox really is.

I'm exhausted. It took me hours to fall asleep last night and even longer to convince Lennox that I'd be fine and that he could leave. Most people would've wanted his company. His protection. But after everything that went down, I just wanted space. I wanted to be alone while my head tried to make sense of everything. To process that Sweet Dreams was indeed back. They did find me, and though I didn't recognize the guy from last night, the mere mention of Jensen's name sent a chill down my spine I still haven't been able to shake. I spent the night curled in a ball in my bed, Grim nestled behind my legs, and my pistol gripped tightly in my hand.

It's the only way I felt safe.

The police woke me up this morning with a phone call, letting me know they were done with their investigation and that I could head back into my shop to begin repairs. So today, even though I've had maybe four hours of sleep, I'm eager to do just that. However, I don't know why I'm bothering to fix any of it at all. Even though Lennox has promised to help me handle Sweet Dreams, I can't help but feel like it won't matter.

I'm not even sure if I want his help.

He doesn't know the lengths of which they'll go to, to get to me, and I don't want to put him or anyone else's life at risk.

Maybe losing my life to them was my fate all along. My destiny, and while I may have been able to run for a while. Enjoy a bit of freedom. It was never meant to last. Because freedom, happiness, and love were never in the cards for a girl like me.

For someone who's been used and broken, forced to do the things I've done to survive.

Maybe the best thing I can do for everyone is just leave—flee into the night, leading the danger away from anyone who means anything to me, including Lennox. Despite the shit that happened yesterday, I can't deny he means something to me.

He understands me in ways no one else has before. Even after knowing my past, knowing the shit I've been forced to do, he doesn't hold it against me; doesn't judge me for it. Last night, after everything, when he looked at me, I could see that to him, I was still the same girl he met in BB that night.

To him, I'm still just Stevie.

His lil spark.

I lift the tiny cup to my lips, sipping on the sweet, steamy liquid as I replay the night before and everything that leads up to it in my head. I haven't been able to wipe the things he did to me in the junkyard from my memory. I can still feel the sticky texture of the honey on my skin vividly. Like a broken record, the visions and the feelings have played over and over in my mind. His touch. His scent. The ghost of his thumb tracing across my lip and the copper taste of blood from the man he killed to protect me. The Lennox I saw last night was different. Darker, more unhinged, and yet I trusted him.

And I don't trust anyone.

Sure, what he did to me was fucked up. Kidnapping me and tying me up for his pleasure. For his little game. He used me. He claimed me like so many men before him. But with him it was different. It was passionate. Despite everything we did or he did to me, I never doubted that he cares for me.

Not even for a minute.

He saved my life and made it his mission, despite everything that's happened between us, to make sure that Grim and I were okay. When he ran the bath for me, it was bitter sweet. Washing away not only the traces of my attacker, but of Lennox too.

The other men who owned me never did that. They used me and tossed me to the side like a piece of trash. Like I was disposable because, to them, I was. There was never a shortage of little girls who could easily be taken from their families like I was. To replace me if I somehow met my death.

They didn't need me; they just wanted me. I made them rich, but plenty of other girls—younger girls—could have.

After all, the older you get, the less likely you're going to be chosen by one of the rich sick fucks they call customers. The ones who pay the big bucks for the ripest fruit. The forbidden. I've seen them bring in girls as young as two. Who were bought, used brutalized in some of the sick and horrific ways. Things no human, let alone a child should ever have to suffer.

As they got older, they had two options, assuming they lived long enough. One, be taken out back and put down like an animal. A simple bullet to the head before their bodies were tossed into one of the pits. Or find another purpose in the organization. This means helping them find new girls and bringing them in. Or find a job around one of the properties cooking and cleaning.

As long as you could be useful, you had a chance to stay alive.

Most of the time.

After the junkyard, I've realized that maybe he was right. Maybe we are meant to be together in some sick and twisted way.

But I can't hide that the game between us, though resulting in so much chaos, and Sweet Dreams finding me, has been thrilling. Pissing him off and making him jealous brings out this dark side to him, a side I –and my body– can't get enough of.

We're toxic, but who doesn't love a bit of toxicity flowing through their veins.

Together, we're deadly and flammable, a volatile mix that could ignite at any moment, consuming everything around us like an uncontrollable inferno.

But like a moth to the flame, I can't stay away from him.

Even if it means certain destruction.

Grim rubs up against my leg, meowing. I feed him and check the time on the clock. Shit. I really need to get going. Pulling out my cell, I quickly shoot off a message to Jesse, updating him about the police's phone call this morning before making my way to my room to get dressed.

I pull on a pair of distressed black jeans and a loose, oversized grey sweater that falls off one shoulder, revealing the strap of my black lace bralette. The oversized sleeves will keep the new rope burn marks on my wrists from wandering eyes.

Not that I'm ashamed of them. They're a reminder.

I'd just rather not have to explain it to people who notice.

My hair is styled in the usual loose waves cascading down my back, and I quickly apply some mascara and a swipe of dark red lipstick. Looking at myself in the mirror, the bags under my eyes reveal how rough of a night I had. A pair of black leather combat boots complete the look. Simple, casual, but still me.

I grab Grim's carrier and gently place him inside. He meows in protest, but I can't leave him alone after everything that's happened. Plus I just feel better having him with me. I sling my bag over my shoulder and head out the door. With Grim in one hand, and my keys in the other, It's time to face the day.

The scent of charred wood and smoke still clings to the air as I step back into my shop. It's lunchtime, and I've been here since dawn, trying to salvage what I can. Most of my products are ruined, thanks to the smoke damage. The small eucalyptus plants I nurtured are wilting, their leaves tinged with black. I've spent the morning tossing everything into a large dumpster I had dropped off out back.

The words Lennox left burned into the wall are still there. Still clearly readable. A constant reminder of what that simple message has caused. I'm less angry about it now, but I wish it never happened. Every time I look at it, I feel a mix of frustration and resignation.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, pulling me from the never ending thoughts. Sliding it from my pocket, I unlock it and messages from Lennox flood my screen.

He's angry.

He went to my house this morning and found it empty.

Last night, he asked me not to go anywhere alone, and I agreed, mostly just to shut him up. I've been taking care of myself for years; I don't need a man to come into my life now and look after me. I can handle walking to work alone. My phone buzzes in my hand again, the screen lighting up with a new message.

L: Where the fuck are you?

I type back.

S: At the shop. The police cleared it today and let me back in to clean up the mess you made.

He replies almost instantly.

L: Don't leave. Is Jesse there too?

S: No, but he's on his way.

L: Good. I have some shit to do at the bar, and then I'll pick you up. Don't fucking leave the shop alone. You fucking wait for me, or I'll punish you. Again.

I smirk, remembering what he considered punishment last time.

S: Yes sir boss sir.

The thought of it sends a thrill through me. Threatening more of that type of punishment just entices me to want to disobey him. I mean, who doesn't want to be tied up over a fire and pleasured until they can't walk?

Regardless, I agree to let him pick me up after. Besides, it beats walking home.

I set my phone down and look around the shop. So many memories in this small space. It's the first place to me that's really felt like home. Like mine. Losing it won't be easy.

The bell above the door jingles, and I turn to see Jesse and Micah walking in, their faces a welcome sight.

"Morning, Stevie," Jesse greets me, holding up a tray. "We brought coffee and donuts. Thought you could use a pick-me-up."

"Thanks, guys," I say, managing a small smile as I take the coffee Jesse offers. The warmth of the cup is comforting, a small piece of normalcy.

Micah steps forward, grinning. "Hey, I talked to my friend when we were on the way over. He said you messaged him and he asked me to tell you he's planning on stopping by this evening to take a look."

"That's great, Micah. I really appreciate it," I reply, feeling a bit of the weight lift from my shoulders.

We chat for a while, their easy conversation and light-hearted jokes helping to ease some of the tension I've been carrying. They help me tidy up and bring some order back to the shop before Micah's friend arrives tonight. But even as we work, I can't shake the feeling of looking over my shoulder, expecting trouble at any moment.

As much as I hate to admit it, I'm grateful that Lennox is picking me up tonight. The thought of going back to that empty house, the silence pressing in on me, is too much to bear. I can handle a lot, but I don't think I can handle another night alone.

Jesse and Micah's presence is a comfort, but the reality of my situation is never far from my mind. I hate that I need Lennox, that I can't stand on my own right now. I hate that it's giving him exactly what he wants, and that I'm sure despite the shit storm we're in, internally he's sporting that goddamn cocky grin.

But for now, I'll put up with it to keep the peace of mind being with him brings.