Page 14 of The Ache That Stayed

“You psycho," I snapped, breath catching, words breaking between fury and disbelief. “Who the hell does that?”

He slowly wiped my lipstick off his mouth with his thumb.

“Someone who doesn’t repeat himself.”

I swung at him. He caught my wrist easily and pulled me close, foreheads nearly touching.

I didn’t flinch. That unsettled me more than his grip.

“Let go,” I said.

“No.” The word came calm and absolute. “We’re leaving.”

“Like hell.” I spat back.

For a second, I thought he might smile. He let go of my hand just enough for me to break free from his grip. I turned too fast, nearly stumbling, only to be caught by him again. His hand locked around my waist, solid, unyielding. My breath hit his throat, and the room narrowed to pulse and heat and the way my centre shifted toward him before I could stop it. I watched his throat work as he swallowed. His jaw clenched as his grip on me tightened.

“Walk,” he said, voice hoarse. “Or I carry you out over my shoulder while you scream. Choose.”

I shoved against his chest, grabbed my bag. I opened my mouth to call for Ritu, but his hand closed around my elbow, firm, controlled.

“They’re fine,” he stated. Then lower—that only I could hear. “Let’s keep them that way.”

Alcohol churned in my stomach. I didn’t look back. I let him guide me through the crowd, step by step, stumbling my way beside him. My voice stuck in my throat, my protest swallowed by the music.

The bass faded behind us. The night air hit my skin like cold water. Reality tried to claw its way back in—noise, headlights, voices laughing too loudly.

Someone slammed into my shoulder as they stumbled past. I turned too fast to steady myself. My balance broke, vision smeared into blur. The pavement tilted. Streetlights stretched into liquid gold. Sound collapsed into dull pressure. The world spun sideways, then inward.

A firm hand caught me before I could hit the ground. Unavoidable. I should have fought. I should have screamed. Some part of me didn’t. There was some certainty that if I didn’t keep moving, it wouldn’t just be me swallowed by this night. It would be all of us.

The last thing I remember was the smell—smoke, iron, something darker underneath.

And the terrifying, disorienting certainty that my body had already decided he was the safer danger.

Then everything went black.

CHAPTER 5

Roxanne

Iwoke to a pounding in my skull and at the door.

My tongue felt too big for my mouth. My body felt… misaligned. Like I’d been put back together slightly wrong.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Each knock reverberated through my bones like a hammer striking metal.

I sat up too fast and immediately regretted it. The room lurched sideways, stomach rolling as if gravity had decided to work differently today. My mouth tasted of bad decisions and citrus and a sharper taste underneath, something close to smoke.

Not mine.

If regret had a flavour, this would be it.