Page 8 of While She Sleeps

My eyes flick between the two men kneeling and Lucas. Surely they weren’t dumb enough to think they could pull the wool over the eyes of a man who deceives for a living?

“We didn’t,” the one on the left insists. His long, dark hair flicks over his scared eyes as he shakes his head. “We would never do that.”

“And yet you did.” Lucas chuckles, but there’s no humor in the sound as he turns to me. “Do it.”

I stare at him for a beat longer than I should before I drop my gaze to the man in front of me. He stares up at me, his head shaking violently from side to side. There’s a flash of something in his eyes that makes me think he doesn’t believe I’ll pull this trigger, and I’m beginning to doubt myself as much as he is.

“You can do it, Em,” Travis whispers. “Once you do this, we’re in. We can pay off our debt. We can have the life I’ve always wanted for us.”

Tears drip down my cheeks, but I don’t respond. I just stare down at the man I’m about to kill, my finger poised on the trigger, preparing myself to go through with something I know I’ll never be able to take back.

Once I pull this trigger, I’ll be changed irrevocably. There’s no going back once I cross this line.

I tuck my bottom lip between my teeth and release a steadying breath.

It’s now or never.

I shake the memory off as a violent shiver racks through my body.

This is the last place I want to fall apart, the last place I want to show how broken I truly am.

But PTSD is a bitch.

It’s slowly peeling pieces of me away, and soon I’m afraid there’ll be nothing left of me. Just a broken girl who has no one left to love her. No one left to protect her. No one left to give a fuck if she lives or dies.

It’s busier than I expect when I step through the front door of the club, my gym bag thrown over my shoulder, and I swallow the sigh that threatens to escape.

This is the last place I feel like being after my appointment with my psychiatrist. I feel too vulnerable, too wounded, too naked to be gawked at by all these assholes.

Some I recognize, others I’ve never seen in my life, but they all have one thing in common. They see women as entertainment. Hell, I’d wager that at least seventy percent of these assholes believe a woman’s role is in the kitchen.

Hurrying over the sticky carpet that should have been replaced long before I met Lucas, I head for the changing room.The last time I was in here, I was tasked to find which one of his girls was skimming tips from the club. It turned out it was actually the manager, and that he had been doing it for years, not just the months that Lucas thought.

“Hey, Ember!” Jules, a brunette with big brown eyes, beams at me when I step through the door and shut it behind me. “What are you doing here?”

“Working…apparently.” I scoff as I take in her jeweled booty shorts and sheer crop top that hides exactly nothing. Her confidence has always made me jealous, and how she doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about her career choice. She told me once about how her parents cut her off when they found out how she makes money, but she’s also put herself through college with this job without a single cent from them or any student loans.

She’s a fucking queen, if you ask me.

Her brows tug together. “Here?”

I nod and drop my bag at a free mirror, but try to avoid my own reflection. Not for the first time, I’m relieved I decided to cut my hair to shoulder length after the accident, because at the very least, I’ll be able to style it quickly. But there’s nothing I can do about the dejection tugging at every muscle, giving me a permanently sad look. “Yep.”

“Just when I thought Lucas couldn’t be more of an asshole,” she mutters, checking her reflection one last time before she pushes to her feet. She doesn’t so much as wobble on the six-inch platform heels that I would almost definitely fall on my face if I even thought about wearing. “Let me know if anyone gives you any trouble.”

“I will.” I smile at her kindness. “Thank you.”

The door snicks shut behind her, and I release a breath. This is too much after tearing my heart out for an hour and telling a perfect stranger how much I’m struggling.

Before I can reach for my bag, the door swings open again, and I meet Lucas’s eyes through the mirror. As a rule, he’s not supposed to be in here, or at least that’s what the girls told me the first time I stepped foot in this room, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He steps inside, and the door clicks shut behind him ominously. If there’s one thing I’ve always tried to do, it’s to not be alone in a room with this man.

There’s something about him that has always made me uncomfortable, and the way he’s staring at me right now makes my stomach churn.

“Why aren’t you getting ready?”

“I just got here,” I tell him. “My appointment ran over.”

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