Page 35 of Sins of the Hidden

"I'll ask again. Why are you holding his cut?" Dad's question sliced through my thoughts.

My knuckles locked like the cut was the only thing tethering me. "He gave it to me to help me sleep." The words emerged barely above a whisper, my eyes fixed on Dad's polished shoes as they took an aggressive step forward.

Dad's face darkened, a muscle twitching in his jaw as his gaze bounced between me and V. "You think you can mark my daughter with club property?" His voice dropped dangerously low. "You're nothing but a fucking tool we use."

V remained perfectly still, but something shifted in his eyes—a darkness that made my breath catch. The same emptiness I'd seen that night in his basement when he'd led me down those creaking wooden stairs into his sanctuary of shadows.

"You don't deserve to breathe the same air as her," Dad spat. "You think giving her your cut gives you a claim?"

"My cut stays with her," V said.

"You don't fucking own her."

V didn't flinch. "She'll be mine until I stop breathing."

Acid climbed my throat—but my feet remained rooted.

"Then I'll bury you tonight." Dad lunged forward, murder in his eyes, but Mom's grip anchored him in place. "I won't just bury you. I'll erase you from existence—no cut, no name, nothing."

"Better men have tried." His eyes narrowed, already burying my father in his head. "And they all died believing they were the last."

"Dad, please," I begged, my voice barely audible through my panic. "S-Stop."

"Stop?" Dad's voice was sharp with disbelief. "Oakley, have you forgotten how he kidnapped you? How he dragged you to that basement against your will?"

The grain-stitched hide pressed against my collarbone as I lifted my chin. "I-I..."

I'd witnessed the crematoriums in his basement, the evidence of things I couldn't—wouldn't—name. I'd felt the terror of being dragged there against my will. Yet here I stood, clutching his cut like a lifeline.

"H-He's not?—"

The words died in my throat as my chest constricted painfully. My ribs tightened like iron bars around my heart, every breath dragging through shattered glass, a thousand tiny cuts slicing deeper. The room began to spin, edges blurring as my body betrayed me. V's cut slipped from my trembling fingers as darkness crept into my vision.

My vision blurred at the edges. Fingers tingled sharply. A rush of nausea slammed my stomach.

No, not now. Please not now.

My knees buckled. Thoughts scattered too fast to catch.Branches snapping under hurried footsteps, mud soaking into my knees, breath scraping raw. A laughter behind me—dark, feral. Real.

Before I could hit the floor, familiar calloused fingers steadied me—hands capable of such violence now preserving me. The same hands that had clutched me against his chest, that had brought me lavender mitts, which had earned him my first genuine smile. But also the same hands that had dragged me through Hellbound to his basement of horrors. The trace of scorched earth lingered on his vest as V brought me down with him, his touch careful despite Dad's angry protests.

"Breathe." V's mechanical voice cut through the roaring in my ears. "Like before."

I tried to focus on his voice and the steady pressure of his hand on my back, but the walls seemed to close around me. Mom's perfume crept in—too sweet, too close, the lingering smoke—it overwhelmed my senses.

"I-I can't—" Voice cracked, words strangling in my throat, "Can't—air?—"

"Oakley, baby, let me—" Mom moved closer, but V's low growl stopped her advance.

"Don't." His tone promised repercussions. "She needs space."

Through the fog of panic, he pressed his club colors into my hands. The familiar heft anchored me as he guided my breathing, just like last night. Every inhale scraped me back from the edge. The weight beneath my fingers gave me something tangible to focus on, each breath drawing me closer to stability.

When my vision cleared, I found V crouched before me, his dark eyes fixed on mine. Behind him, my parents stood frozen, horror and concern warring on their faces.

"Look at me." V's command pulled my focus back to him. "Only at me."

I nodded weakly, the weight of his colors digging into my hands like a lifeline as the room continued to spin at the edges. My chest seized, each breath a battle.

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