Page 91 of Scornful

The storage room smells like dust mixed with beer, cleaner and fried food, a unique scent if I say so.

"How are youreallydoing?" I ask once we're alone, settling on a crate across from her.

Everly sighs, fiddling with a bag of fun-size Snickers. "Honestly? I don't know. Every time I close my eyes, I see that man at Bjorn's window. Keep thinking if I'd been faster, if I'd realized what he was doing sooner..."

"Stop," I say firmly. "This isn't on you. The Patriot did this, not you."

She nods, but I can see she doesn't fully believe it.

We work in silence for a few minutes, counting candy bars and sorting different types into bowls.

The repetitive motion is soothing, almost meditative.

"Can I tell you something?" she asks suddenly, not meeting my eyes.

"Of course."

A blush creeps up her cheeks. "I've been seeing someone. A new guy. It's only been a few weeks, but... I really like him."

"That's great!" I say, genuinely happy for her. After everything she's been through, she deserves some happiness. "What's his name?"

"Dylan Mitchell," she says, and my stomach drops.

I know that name. Dylan Mitchell—hangs around the club sometimes, deals pot to college kids, is a local who’s been here for as long as I’ve been alive.

Hell, he might be a year or two older than me.

More importantly, he's got a reputation for treating women like shit.

I've heard the stories from other girls, seen the bruises they try to hide.

"Be careful with him," I say slowly, trying to keep my voice neutral. "He's got a bit of a reputation."

Everly's face hardens slightly. "People said the same thing about the guys in the club. Doesn't mean it's true."

"This is different," I insist. "Dylan's been known to?—"

"To what?" she interrupts. "Be rough? Dangerous? Like every other guy who hangs around here?" She shakes her head. "He treats me great, Astrid. He's gentle, sweet. Maybe people just don't know the real him."

I want to argue, but I recognize the defensiveness in her tone.

I used it plenty when people warned me about Laken.

Sometimes you have to learn the hard way.

"Just... be careful, okay?" I say finally. "And if you need anything..."

"I know." She softens. "Thanks. I just... I need something good right now, you know? After everything that's happened."

I understand that need more than she knows.

We finish counting candy in silence, but worry gnaws at me.

Dylan Mitchell is bad news, but Everly's right—she needs something positive to focus on.

I just hope she doesn't get hurt in the process.

When we return to the main room, I spot Geirolf near the entrance, finishing his guard shift.

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