34. Nash

34

NASH

F lora moves with practiced grace, perfectly synchronizing with Colt’s as we clean the lockup. There’s something beautiful about how she handles the bleach and rags—no hesitation or fear. Just pure focus.

Today felt cathartic for me, too. I know all too well the demons Flora has carried around. Even if I don’t think about it very often. I experienced similar abuse at the hands of an older kid at a foster home for three years.

I wring out the cloth, watching crimson-tinged water swirl down the drain. Flora pauses her scrubbing, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear with the back of her wrist to avoid leaving marks.

“Well, I guess Santa won’t stop by tomorrow night.” She gives a hollow laugh. “Pretty sure I made the naughty list.”

“No need to be good this year, angel,” Colt says, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that makes my skin tingle.

“We prefer you naughty,” I add, catching her eye across the room.

Flora’s cheeks flush pink, and she ducks her head to hide her smile. “Lucky me.”

“Very lucky,” Colt agrees, moving behind her to kiss her neck.

I watch them together, my chest tight with emotion. Even covered in bleach and wearing latex gloves, Flora looks ethereal. Her laughter echoes off the concrete walls, transforming this grim space into something lighter.

“You two are terrible influences,” she says.

“Guilty as charged,” I respond, tossing her a fresh rag.

I focus on methodically cleaning each surface, appreciating our comfortable silence. There’s something intimate about working together like this—no words needed.

We’ve fallen into a natural rhythm, passing supplies back and forth without asking. The harsh chemical smell of bleach fills the air, but it can’t diminish the warmth I feel watching them work.

Flora’s ponytail swings as she scrubs, and Colt’s muscles flex as he hauls another bucket. The tension from earlier has melted away, replaced by this strange peace.

Flora hums softly under her breath—some Christmas carol that seems oddly fitting despite our macabre activity. Colt shoots her an amused look but doesn’t comment; he just keeps working with that hint of a smile on his lips.

“Pass me that bag,” Colt murmurs, and Flora hands it over without breaking her rhythm. We’ve done this cleanup routine countless times before, Colt and me, but having Flora here feels right. Natural. She was always meant to be part of this, too.

I gather the tools while Colt handles the heavier items. As we finish our work, the floor gleams under the harsh lights. Not a spot is missed, and not a trace is left behind.

Flora stands between us, her shoulders relaxed, her head held high. Pride swells in my chest as I watch her. She’s transformed from the scared girl who first came to us into someone stronger and darker, making us more complete.

I catch Colt’s eye as Flora notices the metal hooks embedded in the wall. Her curiosity was bound to surface eventually.

“Why does the carnival have a place like this?” Flora asks, examining the drain in the center of the concrete floor. “It’s pretty... specific.”

“Sometimes the carnival needs private spaces,” I say, keeping my tone casual while I wrap the last of our tools in plastic.

Colt snorts. “That’s one way to put it.” He tosses me a fresh rag, and I catch it without looking.

Flora raises an eyebrow, her hands on her hips. “Private spaces with industrial-grade cleaning supplies and reinforced doors?”

“Observant little bird,” I say, impressed by her attention to detail. She’s sharp—maybe too sharp for her own good.

“Just part of carnival life.” Colt steps behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. His deflection technique needs work, but Flora melts into his embrace anyway. “Speaking of which, we should get back. You’ve got silk practice in the morning.”

“Nice try.” Flora turns in his arms, poking his chest. “You two are hiding something. This place isn’t just for... personal revenge.”

I exchange a look with Colt over Flora’s head. His jaw tightens.

“She’ll figure it out anyway,” I say to him, ignoring Flora’s narrowed eyes. “You know how she is.”

“Ty won’t like it.” Colt’s arms tighten around Flora’s waist. “We’re not supposed to?—”

“I’m right here,” Flora cuts in, jabbing his chest. “Stop talking about me like I’m not in the room.”

I step closer, running my fingers down her arm. “You’re right. No more secrets between us.”

“Nash—” Colt starts, but I shake my head.

“Fuck it. Ty can deal with it.” I cup Flora’s face, making her look at me. “We move product and use the carnival as a facade. Drugs, mainly cocaine. This lockup? It’s one of many in all the areas where we deal. It’s reserved in case we need to handle problems during deals.”

Colt sighs. “Way to ease her into it.”

“Would you rather I sugar-coated it?” I keep my eyes on Flora’s face, watching for any sign of fear or disgust. “We can’t keep things from each other. Not anymore. Not after everything.”

I study Flora’s face, searching for any hint of revulsion or judgment. But there’s only determination in those hazel eyes as they meet mine.

“I want in,” she says. “Not just watching from the sidelines. I want to be part of everything you and Colt do.”

Colt’s arms tighten around her waist. “Angel, this isn’t?—”

“Don’t.” Flora cuts him off. “Don’t tell me it’s too dangerous. I’ve proven I can handle myself.”

She’s right. How she dealt with Tommy and Jake showed us exactly what she’s capable of.

The way she handled those barrels of acid without hesitation still amazes me. Most people would have balked at the task, but not our girl.

She’d helped us roll the heavy containers into position, her delicate features set with determination. When I explained that burial wasn’t an option due to the frozen ground, she simply nodded and asked for thick gloves. There were no questions, no squeamish reactions—just pure acceptance and efficiency.

The memory of her methodically helping to dismember the bodies and put them into the corrosive liquid makes my chest tighten with pride. She didn’t flinch at the sizzling sounds or the acrid fumes. Just stood there, steady and focused, as what remained of her tormentors dissolved into nothing.

Colt was worried she might break down, but Flora proved stronger than we expected. She watched the process with an almost clinical detachment, those hazel eyes clear and unwavering. When the job was done, she simply peeled off her protective gear and asked what needed cleaning next.

That’s what strikes me most about her practical approach to the whole thing. There were no dramatic reactions, no hysteria, just calm, collected movements as she helped us erase all evidence of Tommy and Jake’s existence. It was as if she was born for this life, this darkness we share.

Those moments remind me why we chose her and knew she belonged with us. She may look delicate, but there’s steel in her spine and ice in her veins when needed. The way she handled disposal proved that beyond any doubt.

Still, this is different. The carnival’s operations are complex and dangerous, and one wrong move could bring everything down.

“I’ll talk to Ty,” I say, earning a sharp look from Colt. “What? She’s already involved. Better to bring her in properly than have her stumbling around the edges.”

Flora beams at me, that rare, genuine smile that makes her whole face light up. “Really?”

“Really.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “But we do this my way. You learn everything from the ground up. No shortcuts.”

“Anything you want,” she says. “I just... I need to be part of this. Part of you. Both of you. All of it.”

I glance at Colt, who’s watching us with apprehension. He knows as well as I do that once Flora sets her mind to something, there’s no stopping her.

“I’ll speak with Ty tomorrow,” I tell them both. “For now, let’s get out of here.”

My hands shake slightly as I gather the cleaning supplies. This depth of emotion terrifies me. I’ve spent years keeping people at arm’s length, letting no one except Colt get close. Even with him, I’ve kept certain walls up.

But Flora crashed through every defense we had, and now I’m standing here, watching the two people I love most in this world, feeling more exposed than I ever have.

The thought of losing either of them sends ice through my veins. I’ve never been this vulnerable, this dependent on others for my happiness. It should make me want to run. Instead, I move closer, drawn to their orbit like I always am.

Colt catches my eye over Flora’s head, and I see the same emotions reflected in his gaze. He understands—he’s always understood me better than anyone. Now we share this terror of losing what we’ve found, this precious thing between us that defies explanation.

I love them. Both of them. The realization isn’t new, but it hits me fresh every time I see them together. The depth of it scares me more than anything I’ve ever faced.