Chapter 8Alex

Chapter 8

Alex

Las Vegas' ruins sprawled before me like the bones of a colossal beast, picked clean by scavengers. I sat on that bed's edge, elbows digging into my knees, hands clenching and unclenching.

The window revealed a once-gaudy panorama faded to ghostly echoes—a skyline jagged with broken teeth. The Bellagio fountains, dry as the Mojave, choked with debris. The Eiffel Tower's skeletal frame, a monument to damnation.

"Alex."

Her voice cut through the stillness. The door closed with a click that seemed to resonate far too loudly in the emptiness of the room. Jessa's footsteps approached—deliberate, resolute. She always walked like she was marching towards victory or vengeance; sometimes it was hard to tell which.

"Jessa," I muttered without looking back. Her presence prickled at my skin, an unwelcome itch I couldn't scratch away.

I felt her behind me, a few paces away, close enough for me to catch her scent—oil and dust and something sickeningly sweet. She didn't smell like Helana. She didn't make my mouth water the way she did.

"I've been looking for you," she said, her voice low and almost playful, but I heard the steel beneath it. Jessa didn't do playful, not really. Every word was a calculated move in a game only she played. "Why are you sulking in here by yourself?'

"Got tired of looking at your fucking face," I shot back, finally turning to face her. Her eyes were fixed on me, watery and sharp, searching for cracks in my armor. Her beauty was a weapon, honed to perfection, and she wielded it without mercy. But her beauty wasn't what it used to be. She was a troll wearing the skin of a washed up siren.

She leaned back against the door, arms crossed. A determined expression etched her features, as if she'd just decided on a course of action that could turn the tide of war. A war she started when she sot me. Jessa had always been about strategies, about playing the long game—even when everything else crumbled to shit.

"We need to talk. Like fucking adults."

I knew that tone, knew it meant trouble. Jessa didn't 'talk.' She laid out ultimatums like landmines, waiting for the wrong step.

A veil of silence hung heavy between us, thick enough to suffocate. Jessa prowled closer, her movements deliberate, a panther in a cage of cracked plaster and faded grandeur. "I know you, Alex," she murmured, her voice a silken threat wrapped in velvet. "I know what you need."

"Is that right?" I sneered. I didn't want to remember the heat of her touch or the taste of her lies. They made my skin itch.

"Come on." Her hand reached for mine, fingers brushing against my knuckles. "Remember the way I used to make you moan? Remember us ?"

"Us is dead," I spat, as I pulled my hand back. My stomach contracted, my mouth filling with saliva and the need to vomit.

"Dead?" She leaned in, her breath a whisper against my ear. "Or just dormant, waiting for the right spark? You know I'm the only one who can fuck you the way you like."

She was dead fucking wrong, and it made me laugh in her face. Literally.

Jessa pulled back with a frown and I laughed again. Yeah, we used to fuck like rabbits once upon a time, but one single moment inside of Helana was more glorious than a thousand in that washed-up cunt of a woman.

That's when the door burst open, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet room. Hell stood framed in the splintered doorway, all wrath and righteous fury.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as her gaze found mine, golden brown eyes blazing with a flame that could burn the city down again.

Her hair was a pale cascade, tumbling down her shoulders and framing her pretty backside. The contrast between her and the drab Jessa was almost comical. As if I would ever waste my time on this woman while Helana was in the same vicinity. She consumed my thoughts constantly, taking up all the space in my mind.

"You really are like a bad rash, aren't you?" Her voice was iron, not loud. Hell didn't need to raise her voice; her presence alone was a sledgehammer breaking through the walls we built.

She swept into the room like a force of nature, her shadow falling over us, a dark omen. In one swift stride, she was between Jessa and me. I could feel the tension radiate from her taut muscles, a coiled spring ready to unleash.

"Back off," Hell's voice cut through the charged silence, low and lethal. "Alex doesn't need you fucking with him any more."

I didn't need her to defend me, but fuck if it wasn't the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. My cock was impossibly hard, and I ached to grab her and sink into her heat.

Jessa's face twisted, a snarl curling her lips as her icy gaze shifted from me to Hell. "You think you can just barge in here and?—"

"Think?" Hell's chuckle was devoid of humor, a scoff at the very idea. "No, Jessa, I don't need to think—I know." She stepped closer to the dark haired woman. "You see, this group, this unit , is mine. We look out for each other. Around here, I'm the fucking boss, do you understand that?"

Jessa's hands balled into fists, knuckles whitening as if she could strike out and claw back the control slipping through her fingers. Her desperation hung heavy in the air, toxic as the fallout dust outside.

"You can't keep him from me," she spat, voice laced with venom. "He doesn't belong to you."

"Nobody belongs to anyone," Hell shot back, unflinching. "But he sure as hell doesn't belong to you. Not after everything. Not after you betrayed him for a quick fuck and an escape." Her eyes dipped to scan Jessa slowly. "You're a pathetic little girl, you know that? It's disgusting."

The raw edge in Hell's words echoed my own thoughts.

Jessa's eyes darted between us, the realization dawning that her manipulations were useless. The anger that contorted her beautiful features was like a balm to my soul.

Turning on her heel, Jessa shouldered past Hell, leaving the room and slamming the door shut behind her. I was already up off the bed before I could think better of it.

In one stride, I closed the distance between us, my hands finding Hell's arms with a grip borne of sudden desperation. With a rough pull, I slammed her against the wall, the plaster cracking under the force. Our bodies collided, an eruption of pent-up need and raw yearning, and for a moment, the world beyond ceased to exist.

Hell's breath hitched, her lips parting in a gasp that was half shock, half desire. I caught the scent of her—gunpowder and sweat—and something primal within me surged to life. My fingers dug into her waist as if to anchor myself to her lush body.

"Alex—" she started, but I silenced her with my mouth crashing down onto hers. The kiss was anything but gentle, a clash of teeth and tongues. It was the kind of kiss that tasted of end-of-the-world desperation, where every touch screamed that tomorrow might never come.

Her response was immediate and fierce. Hell's hands tangled in my long hair, pulling me closer, as if she could merge our bodies into one entity. Each movement was frenzied, frantic.

I felt her nails scrape across my scalp, sending shivers down my spine. The pain was exquisite. Her tongue danced with mine as my cock hardened even more against her. I wanted nothing more than to thrust myself inside her slick heat and fuck her until neither of us could walk straight.

Our hips ground together, our moans filling the space between us. It was like we couldn't possibly get enough. Couldn't get close enough.

The kiss seared through me, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The connection between us pulsed like a live wire, desperate and fucking undeniable. For those moments, nothing else mattered—just Hell, myself, and the urgency that clawed at me. The need to own every inch of this woman.

The moment shattered. Hell's grip slackened, and she shoved me back, her breath heaving like she'd run for miles. Her golden eyes had turned to steel, the softness that had flickered there gone as if snuffed out.

"Get your shit together, Alex," she spat, words slicing through the thick air between us. "I can't do this with you until you get your head on straight. This Jessa thing…it needs to end now. Or else I'm fucking done."

My heart sank to my fucking boots, my stomach coiling with nausea at the thought of her turning her back on me. Panic welled up in my chest.

"All of it just caught me off guard," I said, stepping towards her and placing my palms on either side of her face. "She means nothing to me. Less than fucking nothing. I swear it on my life, on Dante and Wyatt's fucking lives, Hell. She's dead to me. I only want you."

"Then prove it to me. Get your shit together," Hell repeated, her voice low and dangerous. It was that same tone she used when laying out a plan to navigate through a horde of those things—the dead that walked and hungered.

"Understood," I whispered, holding her gaze and trying to convey with every fiber of my being that I was telling her the truth. Hell eyed me for a split second longer, as if assessing whether I was a liability or the man she trusted.

Then, she turned on her heel and strode out, the door slamming shut behind her with a bang that echoed the chaos of my thoughts.

I sank down onto the bed, the fancy foam bending beneath my weight. My mind raced like a rabid dog chasing its own tail, thoughts spinning in dizzying circles.

Rage simmered beneath my skin, a slow burn that threatened to ignite into an inferno. How dare that bitch slither back into our lives like a venomous serpent, ready to sink her fangs into the tenuous peace I finally thought I could have. Peace with Helana.

Her name alone sent a jolt straight to my cock, even amidst the fury churning in my gut. I couldn't shake the memory of her body pressed against mine, all taut muscle and soft curves. The way her lips had yielded under my onslaught, the way her nails had raked down my back, marking me as hers.

I palmed my hardening length through the rough fabric of my pants, my breath hissing through clenched teeth. Desire coiled tight, a primal need that demanded to be sated. I imagined Hell on her knees before me, those fierce golden eyes looking up at me through thick lashes. Her full lips wrapped around my cock, taking me deep into the wet heat of her mouth. The image alone was enough to make me throb with need.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to banish the thoughts that threatened to consume me. I couldn't afford distractions, not now. Not with so much at stake. Jessa's reappearance had thrown everything into chaos, and I needed to get my head on straight, just like Hell said.

Forcing myself to my feet, I paced the length of the room, my boots scuffing against the threadbare carpet. The restless energy buzzing beneath my skin demanded an outlet, some way to channel the rage and frustration into something productive.

I needed a plan. A way to prove to Hell that Jessa meant nothing, that she was just a ghost from a past long dead. But how? How could I convince the woman who held my heart in her battle-scarred hands that she was the only one who mattered?

A knock at the door jolted me from my spiraling thoughts. I froze, every muscle tensing, ready for a fight. In this world, you never knew what waited on the other side of a closed door.

"Alex, it's Dante." The familiar voice was muffled through the wood. "We need to talk."

I exhaled slowly, the tension draining from my shoulders. I crossed the room in two long strides and yanked open the door. Dante stood there with two whiskeys in his hands. I took one gratefully, letting him into the room.

Taking a sip, my eyes shot to my hairline. "So this is how the elite live then."

Dante chuckled. "Lived, you mean."

"More for us, I guess." I knocked it back, reveling in the smoothness of it and the warmth blooming in my stomach.

"Don't fuck things up with Helana," Dante said after a moment of silence.

I sighed heavily, running a hand through my hair. "I'm trying not to, man. But Jessa showing up like this... it's thrown me for a fucking loop."

Dante leveled me with a knowing look. "Jessa's always been trouble. You know that better than anyone. Whatever game she's playing, you can't let her get in your head."

I gritted my teeth, the whiskey burning in my throat. "Easier said than done. That woman knows exactly which buttons to push. It's like she's got a direct line to all my worst instincts."

"Then cut the line," Dante said firmly. "Hell's the best thing that's ever happened to you, Alex. Don't let Jessa fuck that up."

I knew he was right. Hell was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of woman. Strong, fearless, loyal to the bone. She'd been through the shit with me, seen me at my lowest and never flinched. I couldn't lose her, not to Jessa's twisted mind games.

"I won't," I vowed, meeting Dante's gaze head-on. "I'd put a bullet between Jessa's eyes if it wouldn't make me a fucking monster for it."

Dante's expression softened, understanding in his eyes. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, the weight of it grounding me in the moment. "You're not a monster, Alex. You're a survivor, just like the rest of us."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult. Survivor. The word tasted bitter on my tongue. What was the point of surviving if it meant losing the one thing that made life worth living?

"I need to talk to Jessa," I said abruptly, the decision crystallizing in my mind. "Put an end to this once and for all."

Dante's brows furrowed, concern etching his features. "You sure that's a good idea? Jessa's not exactly the 'let's talk it out' type."

"I don't give a fuck what type she is," I growled, the anger surging back to the surface. "I'm done playing her games. It's time to lay down the law."

Setting the empty whiskey glass on the dresser with a decisive clink, I strode towards the door, purpose in every step. Dante followed close behind, his presence a silent show of support.

The hallway stretched before us, the once-plush carpet worn threadbare by the passage of too many desperate feet. The air hung heavy with the stench of stale cigarettes and mildew, a reminder of the decay that lurked just beneath the surface.

I didn't bother knocking on Jessa's door. Restraint had never been one of my strong suits, especially where she was concerned. With a twist of the knob, I shouldered my way in, Dante a looming presence at my back.

Jessa sat perched on the edge of the bed, a cigarette dangling from her lips. When the hell did she start smoking? Her eyes flicked up at our entrance, a slow smile curving her mouth. It was the smile of a predator who knew she had her prey cornered.

"Well, well, well," she purred, exhaling a stream of smoke. "Look who's come crawling back."

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to wipe that smug look off her face. "I'm not here to play your games."

She laughed, a low, throaty sound that set my teeth on edge. "You're always playing my games, whether you realize it or not."

I took a step forward, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "Not anymore. I'm done with your bullshit."

Jessa rose languidly to her feet, the cigarette still pinched between her fingers. She sauntered closer, hips swaying in a way that was both alluring and repulsive. "Are you now? And what brought on this sudden rage?"

"You know damn well what brought it on," I snarled, my voice low and dangerous. "You showing up here, trying to worm your way back in. Trying to come between me and Hell. It ends now, Jessa. I mean it."

She took another drag on the cigarette, her eyes never leaving mine. "You really think you can just cut me out, Alex? After everything we've been through? Everything we've meant to each other?"

I let out a harsh bark of laughter. "Meant to each other? You've never given a shit about anyone but yourself. You proved that when you left me for dead."

Jessa's expression hardened, a flicker of something dark and ugly crossing her features. "I did what I had to do to survive. You of all people should understand that."

I shook my head, disgust churning in my gut. "Survival is one thing. Betrayal is another. You crossed a line, Jessa. One there's no coming back from."

She flicked the cigarette butt to the floor, grinding it out with the toe of her boot. "So that's it then? You're choosing her over me?"

"There is no choice," I bit out through clenched teeth. "It's always been Hell. It will always be Hell. You were just a fucking mistake I made along the way."

Jessa's eyes flashed with rage, her hands curling into claws at her sides. For a moment, I thought she might lunge at me, all sharp nails and fury. But she held herself in check, that icy control slipping back into place like a mask.

"You're going to regret this, Alex," she hissed, venom dripping from every word. "You think your precious Hell can give you what you need? She doesn't know you like I do. She doesn't understand the darkness inside you."

I stepped closer, until we were nose to nose, my breath mingling with hers. "You're right, she doesn't understand the darkness. Because with her, there is no darkness. She's the fucking light, Jessa. And you? You're nothing but a shadow I'm leaving behind."

Her hand shot out, quick as a snake, nails digging into my arm hard enough to draw blood. But I didn't flinch, didn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me react.

"Get your fucking hands off him." Dante's voice was a low growl from behind me, a reminder that I wasn't alone in this.

Jessa's gaze flicked to him, a sneer twisting her lips. "Stay out of this, Dante. It doesn't concern you."

"The fuck it doesn't," he shot back, taking a step forward. "You fucked this up yourself. We trusted you, and you fucked it all up." You don't deserve to breathe the same air as any of us."

Jessa's eyes narrowed to slits, her grip on my arm tightening. But I wrenched free, shoving her back. She stumbled, catching herself against the dresser.

"You heard him," I spat. "We're done here. Done with you and your toxic bullshit. You come near me, or Hell, or anyone in this group again, and I swear to God, Jessa..."

"You'll what?" she challenged, straightening up. "Kill me? Please. You don't have the balls."

Red tinged the edges of my vision. In a flash, my gun was in my hand, aimed right between her eyes. Jessa went still, her smirk fading.

"Don't fucking test me," I snarled. "Not anymore."

Dante's hand clamped on my shoulder, steadying me. "Alex. She's not worth it, man. Let's go."

For a long, tense moment, I held Jessa's gaze down the barrel of my gun. I saw the flicker of fear, quickly masked by defiance. Part of me hungered to pull the trigger, to end her miserable existence once and for all.

But Dante was right. She wasn't worth it. Hell was waiting for me - the future was waiting. And I was done letting my past hold me back.

Slowly, I lowered the gun. Jessa's shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly in relief.