Page 56 of Retaliation

Nick placed a hand on her arm, and she tried her best not to recoil from his touch. She wasn’t worthy of the love and support they gave her. She was a monster, and she couldn’t bear the thought of burdening them with her troubles.

She tried to get up, to leave, and never to bother them again. She was toxic and would only taint them with her dark soul. But Nick held her tight, not allowing her to run away.

As she gazed up at him, his expression softened, understanding flickering in his eyes.

“You’re not a monster, Poison,” he said, his voice gentle, as if he could read her mind. “You’re human, just like the rest of us. And humans need help sometimes.”

His words struck a chord within her, stirring a mixture of gratitude and guilt. She wanted to believe him, to let his reassurance wash away her doubts, but the weight of her past sins anchored her to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m sorry for everything.”

His hand tightened on her arm, offering silent support. “We all have our demons,” he replied softly. “But you don’t have to face them alone. Let’s get you cleaned up,” he offered, standing before pulling her to her feet.

Later, Poison sat cross-legged on the couch with a cup of coffee in hand, telling Nina and Nick everything that had happened. She left everything bare, telling them about Scorpion, Reaper, the Don, and Tidal.

Shame crashed into her, but neither of them once judged her or ran from the room screaming.

“You should stay the night,” Nina offered, her eyes filled with concern. But Poison shook her head, a sense of urgency gnawing at her insides.

“Coming here has already put you guys in danger. I should leave,” she insisted.

“Nonsense,” Nick countered. “Stay the night. You’re safer here than at your place if Scorpion is coming to look for you again.”

She hesitated, torn between her need to protect them and her exhaustion. “I’ll be out of your hair early. I need to get to work in the morning,” she finally said, trying to sound resolute.

Nick rose from the couch and kissed her on the crown of her head. The gesture, simple yet tender, made her throat tighten. “I’ll let you ladies catch up, but I need to get some sleep before my shift in the morning.”

“I thought you only worked night shifts?” she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice. Nick had always worked nights since they had met.

A flicker of guilt crossed Nick’s eyes, almost too quick to catch. “It’s just a patient I need to follow up on and check their lab results,” he explained, but his tone

lacked its usual confidence.

Poison, too tired to overthink it, grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you for everything, Nick,” she whispered, her gratitude genuine despite her exhaustion.

“Don’t mention it, P.” He squeezed her hand back and walked up the stairs, leaving her with Nina.

Poison watched him go, a knot of unease settling in her stomach. Something was off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She turned back to Nina, who was studying her with concern.

An hour later, Nina and Poison had swapped the coffee Nick had made them for a bottle of red wine and were sitting against the couch, snickering like two teenagers. The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light over them, creating a bubble of intimacy and nostalgia.

“Do you remember how we met?” Poison asked, pouring the last of the wine into Demi’s sippy cups from which they were drinking. Nina had insisted that they use them as to not spill wine all over her champagne carpet.

“How could I not?” she giggled. “There I was, stalking the handsome med student, and you came in with fists flying.”

“In my defense, I had just lost a fight for the first time.” Poison shrugged, memories of that night flooding back. The adrenaline, the anger, the sting of defeat.

“It still wasn’t necessary for you to tell Nick I was faking it,” Nina said, her voice playful.

“Neen,” Poison huffed, rolling her eyes, “every time Nick turned his back, you checked your lipstick and cleavage. A blind man could see you were flirting with him.”

Nina turned a bright shade of crimson. “Hey, it took both Jonathan and Rogan to pin…” She shut her mouth, biting down hard as if to keep the words in. Her gaze dropped to her lap, her fingers fiddling with the sippy cup.

“P, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Poison waved her off, taking a sip of her wine. The memories of Jonathan and Rogan were a double-edged sword, sharp and painful. “It’s okay, Neen. There’s no use avoiding it. Rogan was once like a brother to me, too.”

The memories washed over her, overwhelming her. Jonathan and Rogan teaching her to ride a pink bicycle they’d stolen from someone’s yard, the two of them tossing her book between them, making her chase it. The nights she and Rogan played video games until the early morning hours. Each memory was a punch to the gut, but the one that lingered was Rogan standing over Jonathan’s body, his face a mask of betrayal.

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