Page 72 of Thunder's Reckoning
And Amy…
Amy hadn’t said much. She looked to be around my age, maybe younger, her purple hair catching the overhead lights in flashes of violet fire. It was the kind of color you couldn’t ignore. Bold. Untamed. But the way she hunched into herself, hands folded in her lap, made her seem small. Her soda sat untouched in front of her.
Her eyes, though, they weren’t small. They were locked across the room.
I followed her gaze before I could stop myself.
Rune.
He was leaning against the bar, tattooed arms crossed, that half-smirk on his mouth that said he’d already figured the world out and didn’t care what you thought of it. A woman pressed in close, a blonde in a short skirt and too much skin, the kind of girl this club called a sweet butt. She laughed too loud, tilted her chest forward like an offering. Rune didn’t laugh, but his head dipped low, close enough her hair brushed his jaw.
Then she reached for his hand. He didn’t pull away.
Together, they moved through the crowd, shoulder to shoulder, disappearing down the hall.
Amy went very still.
Her fingers curled against the edge of the table, knuckles whitening until I thought she might snap the wood. For a moment, I thought she’d speak, spill it, call his name, something. Instead, she shoved back her chair, the legs scraping loud across the floor.
“I’m gonna—” Her voice caught. She shook her head. “I need air.”
She didn’t wait for a response. Just turned and walked fast, shoes scuffing the floor until the back door swung shut behind her.
The table went quiet. Even Lucy, who always had something smart to say, kept her mouth shut. Fiona finally lowered her phone, her grin gone. “I’ll go check on her.”
“I’ll go.” I stood quickly, the words louder than I intended, but no one argued. I needed out of that room, away from the smoke, the perfume, the laughter that never seemed to reach anyone’s eyes.
I slipped through the crowd. The air reeked of leather, beer, sweat. Someone shouted over a lost bet at the pool table. A sweet butt danced on the coffee table until Devil barked across the room, his voice sharp as a whip. She scrambled down like she’d been burned. Two prospects shoved at each other over something, fists half-raised, but no one gave them a second glance.
That was the thing about this place—chaos didn’t even make people blink.
Outside, the air was humid, the night open and still. The bonfire out back cracked and roared, laughter spilling from its circle, but here on the porch it was quieter.
I found Amy on the steps. She sat hunched, arms wrapped tight around herself, shoulders folding inward like she could shield her heart if she just pressed hard enough.
I lowered myself beside her. Didn’t speak. Just waited.
She broke first. “I thought maybe he cared for me.” Her voice was small, the words tugged from somewhere raw. “That he saw somethin’ in me no one else did.”
I glanced at her but kept my silence. She wasn’t done.
“I know what people think.” Her fingers dug into her sleeves. “That I’m too young. Too broken. That I’ve got no businesswantin’ someone like Rune.” Her voice cracked, sharp enough to cut. “But he kissed me once. You know that?”
Her eyes shone in the porch light, bright with unshed tears.
“A few nights ago,” she went on, wiping her nose on her sleeve, not caring how it looked. “Just once. He said it was a mistake. But the way he looked at me… that’s the kind of look you don’t forget.”
I breathed out slow. “Sounds like he really likes you, Amy.”
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. He wanted me to see him walk away with her. Maybe that’s what I needed. Proof.”
The silence stretched. Crickets hummed in the grass. The fire popped in the distance.
“Men always hurt us,” she whispered finally, turning her head. Her eyes were red, her face beautiful in that young, too-lost kind of way. And it was like looking in a mirror.
“I know,” I whispered back. “All too well.”
Her gaze searched mine. “I knew you did. I could sense it the second I saw you.” She reached for my hand, her fingers trembling against mine. “We share the same kind of hurt. The violation that never washes out. It sinks too deep.”
