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I leaned back, watching the way her jaw clenched as she spoke. “Did you want to be her project?”

She laughed, the sound brittle. “Not really. I’m not good with crowds, or noise, or... people. But Angelica has this way of making itsound like you’ll miss out on something huge if you say no. I guess I was tired of sitting alone, listening to everyone else live their lives.”

I nodded, understanding more than I cared to admit. “So, Barney was just... there?”

“Not really.” Her lips pursed. “I met him the night she talked me into going out with her. She wanted to club-hop. By the second club, I was done. I wanted to go back to the dorm and study for my algebra test, but she talked me into one more club. That’s where I met Barney. At the Gentlemen’s Club. He was nice at first. He’d crack jokes, buy drinks, and make me feel like I belonged. I thought he was just being friendly. I was wrong.”

The room seemed to shrink for a moment, heavy with the things unsaid. I tried to soften my voice. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

A slight, grateful smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you. I know you don’t owe me anything, but—thank you.”

She was beautiful. Stunning. Shy and reserved. She was nothing like the typical Barney girl, who were mostly outspoken and determined to snag a club brother. Yet, looking at Diana, I instinctively knew she was nothing of the sort. In fact, if I were a betting man, the only place she’d feel truly comfortable was in a library, surrounded by books. There was a quiet peacefulness that surrounded her. Yet there was an air of mystery and strong resolve that contradicted the persona she portrayed.

I glanced at the stack of books on my desk, titles ranging from Austen to Morrison, their spines worn and well-loved. I said nothing as Diana stood and walked over to them, picking the top one up as she carefully opened it. “Sometimes I wonder if Angelica saw something in me that I’m still searching for,” she said quietly as she flipped the page. “She’s fearless. She dives in, never hesitating. I wish I could be like that—just for a night, just to see what it feels like.”

I considered what she was saying, listening to the yearning in her voice. “Did you ever tell her?”

She shook her head, lips pressed thin. “How do you tell someone you envy them without sounding ungrateful?” The music and laughter from downstairs pulsed as she sighed, carefully returning the book to the stack.

“She’s not perfect, you know,” I said. “Nobody is.”

A faint smile ghosted across her angelic face, thoughtful. “No. But sometimes, she makes me believe I could be a little more than I am.”

And in that fragile honesty, something shifted—a tiny crack in the shell she wore so carefully, an invitation to linger, to listen.

For a long moment, we simply sat, two souls tangled in questions, the world outside receding until all that remained were the stories we carried and the comfort of being heard, and the more I listened, the more I realized I had fallen incandescently in love with her.

My head flew back, and I grunted as Zephyr took another swing at my face. I was pretty damn sure he had cracked my orbital socket and possibly fractured my cheekbone. Still, thatsadistic motherfucker never relented. He was determined to break me one way or another. Grabbing a handful of my hair, he yanked my head back so hard I winced.

“Tell me what I want to know, Bane, and this shit will end right now.”

Barely able to open my one good eye, I spat blood in his face and seethed. “Go fuck yourself.”

Zephyr’s grip on my hair tightened, his knuckles white with rage. “You leave me no choice, Bane. This doesn’t have to hurt more than it already does.”

I could hear the sick satisfaction in his voice. With a swift movement, he pulled my hair harder, forcing my neck to crane backwards. I felt the strain, a searing pain shooting down my spine.

“Last chance, or I break your fucking neck.”

I knew he would do it, the sick bastard. But I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Through gritted teeth, I spat out another curse. “You’ll have to work harder than that, Zephyr. I’m not breaking.” My defiance was met with a vicious backhand across the face, the force of it causing me to see stars. I tasted blood, felt it trickling down my chin.

Zephyr leaned in close, his hot breath on my face. “We’ll see who breaks first, Bane. This is far from over.”

The bastard released my hair, and I slumped forward, my body aching, my face a mess of blood and bruises. All I had to do was hold out and give the others time. But I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. As it was, I knew I was nearing my breaking point, and the thought of what Zephyr would do next filled me with dread.

Chapter Thirty-One

Valhalla

Las Vegas, Nevada...

As I ventured further into the house, the weight of its secrets seemed to press down on me, almost as if I were somehow responsible for what happened here. It was impossible; I knew, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. The air was thick with an eerie stillness, as if the house were holding its breath, awaiting my discovery of its dark past. Sinclair’s presence loomed large; his silence spoke volumes of the mysteries that lay within.

In the dim light, I noticed a faint outline on the wall, where a picture once hung. It was as if the very essence of the home was imprinted on the walls, a ghostly reminder of what once was. I ran my fingers over the faded marks, imagining the life that had once filled these rooms. The laughter of children, the warmth of a family—all now replaced by an overwhelming sense of loss and intrigue.

Sinclair’s voice, low and gravelly, broke the silence. “This house was more than just a place where the trail went cold. This house was a home, filled with love, joy, and hope. Something you and I will never truly understand. Only to have it stripped from those this house tried to protect.”