Page 15 of Devils Cut

"Get it together, Tempest," I mutter to myself as I floor the gas pedal, hauling ass through town.

Fifteen minutes later, I pull into the park where I've been crashing these past weeks. It's quiet here, dark enough for me to blend in with the shadows.

The afternoon light casts eerie shadows over the park, making the rusted swing set look like some twisted hand reaching out to me. Shaking off the shiver creeping up my spine, I lean into the backseat of my car, grabbing the worn-out bag that holds my toiletries. Locking the car behind me, I clutch the bag close to my chest and make my way toward the public restroom.

"Fuckin' fantastic," I mutter under my breath, staring at the flickering fluorescent light hanging above the entrance. Just another perk of living like a goddamn vagrant, I guess.

Pushing open the door, I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the onslaught of smells that come with using a public bathroom as your personal washroom. The stench of stale piss and old bleach hits my nostrils, but it doesn't faze me anymore; I've been here too many times for it to have any effect.

"Get in, get clean, get out," I whisper to myself, walking over to the sink. My reflection stares back at me from the cracked mirror, looking every bit as haggard and worn down as I feel. I grab the bucket I've stashed in here, lifting it up to the porcelain sink.

"Jesus Christ, Tempest," I mutter as I fill the bucket with cold water. "You really know how to live the high fuckin' life."

I strip off my clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on top of my bag to keep them off the filthy floor. Standing there naked and exposed, I can't help but feel vulnerable. It's not the first time I've washed up in this grimy bathroom, but every time, I can't shake the feeling that someone could walk in at any moment, catching me in this desperate state.

"Enough," I tell myself sternly, scooping handfuls of water and splashing them over my body. The cold water shocks my skin, but I grit my teeth and continue, scrubbing away the sweat and grime from the day. It's not ideal, but it's better than nothing.

Once I'm done, I grab a worn towel, drying myself off as quickly as possible. Being in this bathroom for any longer than necessary makes my skin crawl. God, if Corvus ever found out about any of this...I don't even want to think about it.

Placing an old towel on the floor I kneel and dunk my head into the bucket, wetting my hair in preparation for a quick wash. I don't have time to waste; being in this public toilet for longer than necessary is not only disgusting but also risky. I lather up my shampoo, scrubbing at my scalp with fervour. It's not perfect, but it'll do.

"Fuck, that's cold," I mutter under my breath, rinsing out the suds in the sink. My fingers are numb as I twist the faucet off, but the icy water serves as another reminder that I need to keep moving and stay focused on surviving.

I grab the towel from around my body and wrap it around my damp hair, rubbing it vigorously to get rid of any excess moisture. Yanking open my bag, I pull out a pair of soft shorts and a T-shirt, slipping them on without bothering with a bra or underwear. It's not like anyone's going to see me anyway, right?

Packing my things back into the bag, I sling it over my shoulder and take a deep breath. The smell of stale piss and mildew burns my nostrils. I push open the restroom door, stepping out into the light.

My beat-up car waits for me in the distance, and I make my way towards it, mentally preparing myself for another night in that cramped space. It's not ideal, but it's all I've got right now.

Sunlight glints off my car's dented hood, and I'm just about to breathe a sigh of relief when I see him. Corvus, that son of a bitch, leaning against the driver's door like he owns the damn thing. His arms are crossed, his jaw clenched, and fury radiates off him like heat from a bonfire.

"Shit," I mutter, instinctively crossing my arms over my chest to hide my nipples from view under the thin fabric of my t-shirt. What the fuck is he doing here? My heart races, adrenaline pumping through my veins. This is not what I need right now.

"You fucking lied to me, Tempest," Corvus snarls as I approach, his voice low and menacing.

I steel myself, refusing to let fear show on my face. "It's none of your damn business," I snap back. "I turn up to work on time, I do my shift, and I leave. That's where your job ends, Corvus. What I do after isn’t your concern."

His eyes narrow as he takes a step toward me, crowding my space. "You got one minute to tell me the goddamn truth, princess." The icy tone in his voice sends shivers down my spine.

"Or what?" I challenge, trying to keep my voice steady. "You gonna take away my birthday?"

"Maybe I will," he growls, his anger practically tangible. "Now start talking."

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest. "Alright, I bought a house," I admit, the words bitter on my tongue. "But I'm still waiting to get the keys. Until then, I'm sleeping in my car. It's not against the law, you know."

Corvus smirks, the expression as infuriating as it is attractive. "Oh, I know what is and isn't against the law, Tempest." He leans closer, his breath hot against my face. "And trust me, I'd be more than happy to educate you if need be."

"Fuck off," I spit, feeling my anger rise. Why did he have to come out here and ruin everything? My life was already a mess without him sticking his nose into it.

But as much as I want to tell him to shove it and walk away, there's a part of me that knows I can't do that. Not if I want to keep my job at the bar.

Corvus's finger jabs at my shitty car like it's a piece of trash on the sidewalk, and I can feel my anger mounting. "Get in and follow me," he orders, his voice gruff and commanding. "You're staying at mine till you get your keys."

"Hell no," I start to say, but he cuts me off with a glare that could freeze hell.

"Quit fighting with me, Tempest," he growls. "If you want to keep your job, get in your goddamn car and follow me."

My heart races as I grip the strap of my bag tighter, trying to think of an escape plan. But I know there isn't one. Not with Corvus holding the power over me like a guillotine blade waiting to drop. Sometimes, survival means doing what you have to do, even when it feels like swallowing broken glass.

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