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The vodka burned going down, but it wasn't enough to drown out thoughts of Ash. His voice echoed in my head, rough and commanding in a way that made my whole body ache. The way those storm-gray eyes had locked onto mine in the training room, like he could see straight through me. Like he knew exactly how desperate I was to prove myself, to be worth something.

I stared at my phone, thumb hovering over his contact. Three typed and deleted messages mocked me:

Xander

WYD

Xander

You busy tonight?

Xander

Want to grab coffee sometime?

Pathetic. I was pathetic, getting worked up over some straight-laced ex-fed who probably saw me as nothing more than a disaster waiting to happen. Another broken toy for Daddy Dearest to try fixing.

My hands shook as I shoved them into my pockets, fingers brushing against the baggie of pills. Just insurance, I told myself. In case the night got too raw, too real. In case I couldn't handle being trapped in my own skin anymore.

I pounded on the bathroom door, desperate for distraction. "Xavier! How long does it take to dye your fucking hair? Some of us have mental breakdowns to attend to!"

The door flew open, revealing Xavier's scowl. Electric blue streaked his black hair, matching the irritation in his eyes. "Perfection takes time, asshole."

I gestured at my outfit—a black mesh crop top that left nothing to the imagination, skin-tight leather pants, and enough eyeliner to make a raccoon jealous. The fabric felt like armor against my skin, each carefully chosen piece a statement: I'm dangerous, I'm beautiful, I'm everything you want and everything you fear . "Unlike me, who's effortlessly flawless."

But the words felt hollow, a performance I couldn't quite sell. Not when I could still feel Ash's eyes on me from training, that mixture of heat and disapproval that made me want to simultaneously show off and hide. He'd looked at me like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve, and God, I wanted him to take me apart piece by piece until he figured out what made me tick.

"Less fighting, more drinking!" Eli declared, sweeping past us with a bottle of tequila. His platinum hair caught the light as he moved, all casual grace and easy confidence. Sometimes I envied how comfortable he seemed in his own skin.

Xavier glanced at Eli. "You sure Shepherd's okay with you going out with us?"

"Sir practically shoved me out the door," Eli said, a soft smile playing at his lips as he twisted one of his leather cuffs. "Said I needed to socialize with people my own age instead of hovering around him all evening. Though he did give me a very specific list of rules to follow." His expression turned dreamy in that way it always did when he talked about Shepherd's control.

I tried not to feel envious of that certainty, that absolute trust. Must be nice, having someone who cared enough to set boundaries, to keep you safe. Someone who wanted you enough to claim you completely.

I knocked back another shot. "Let me guess. He told you to keep an eye on his baby brothers too? Make sure we don't get into too much trouble?" The bitterness in my voice surprised even me. It wasn't Shepherd's fault he was overprotective. Between Xion's schizophrenia and my tendency to chase any danger I could find, he had reason to worry. But sometimes his need for control, the way all his alters wanted to micromanage our lives, felt suffocating.

Eli's smile turned knowing. "He might have mentioned making sure you all get home in one piece."

I caught my reflection in the mirror. Algerone's eyes stared back at me from beneath perfect winged liner, high cheekbones that could cut glass dusted with highlight. Yuri always said I got my face from my biological father, but everything I did with it? That was pure spite. The gold chain choker around my throat caught the light, and for a moment I imagined it was something else—something permanent, something that marked me as his . But Ash wouldn't want damaged goods, would he?

Yuri's voice echoed in my head, the Russian accent thicker when he was worried: " Solnyshko , you shine too bright to let anyone dim you." He'd said that the first time he caught me in makeup, back when I was still figuring out who I was. But what if shining bright just meant burning out faster?

"He's not going to be there," Xavier's voice cut through my preening. "Valentine's got better things to do than hang around clubs full of pretty twenty-somethings trying to get his attention."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I snapped, but my fingers betrayed me, fidgeting with the choker again. Xavier could always see right through my bullshit. Even after the incident with Xion, after I'd spent weeks flinching at every sudden movement, he'd known exactly what I needed. Sometimes that certainty terrified me. Having someone who could read every micro-expression, every hidden fear, made me want to run before he saw straight through to the broken parts I tried so hard to hide.

" Da , and I don't know what Leo looks like when he's coding," Xavier drawled, mimicking Papa Yuri's accent perfectly. "We all have our little obsessions."

The doorbell cut through our bickering. I bounced to my feet, grateful for the escape. "Speaking of obsessions—I'll get it! Might be your boyfriend, X!"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Xavier protested, but the blush creeping up his neck said otherwise.

I swung the door open to find Leo and Xion on the doorstep. Leo clutched his messenger bag like a shield, all awkward angles and nervous energy. Behind him, Xion loomed in his usual all-black ensemble, radiating the kind of dangerous energy that used to terrify me. Now it just reminded me of shared trauma and hard-won forgiveness.

"Leo! Perfect timing. Xavier was just talking about how much he misses your face." I grinned as Leo's cheeks went scarlet.

"Get the fuck out of the way and let us in already," Xion growled, shouldering past me. But there was no real heat in it. We'd worked too hard on rebuilding our relationship to let old wounds fester. Still, sometimes when he moved too fast, I couldn't help but flinch. Some scars ran deeper than others.

Upstairs, Xavier and Leo gravitated toward each other like magnets, their knees brushing as they shared the couch. The tentative sweetness of it made my chest ache. They had something real building between them, something pure and untainted by trauma or darkness. Yuri would say they were like his matryoshka dolls, perfect fits just waiting to discover each other.

I pulled out my baggie of pills, desperate to feel something—anything—other than this gnawing need for validation. For connection. For Ash's rough hands and rougher voice telling me I was good , I was worthy , I was his .

Heavy footsteps on the stairs made me freeze. Papa appeared in the doorway, his tired eyes taking in the bottles, the pills, the desperate energy radiating off me in waves. His accent was heavier when he spoke, like it always was when he worried: "Promise me you will be safe tonight, solnyshko ."

" Da , Papa," Xavier and I chorused. The Russian endearment felt like forgiveness I didn't deserve.

I tried not to see the way his shoulders slumped, the way worry lines creased his forehead. He'd given up everything to raise us—his homeland, his old life, even his chance at a normal family. And how did I repay him? By being exactly the kind of chaos he didn’t need.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand!" I announced, too loud, too bright. Anything to escape that knowing look in Papa's eyes. "Time to see if all those dance lessons you paid for were worth it, da ?"

Papa's smile was sad, but fond. " Bozhe moy , what did I do to deserve such wild children?" But he pressed a kiss to each of our foreheads before we left, even Xion who pretended to hate it. Some Russian traditions even serial killer families couldn't shake.

Eli's sleek black Mercedes purred down the highway from Liar's Corner toward Columbus, bass from Xavier's playlist vibrating through the speakers. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching the Ohio countryside blur into city lights. Two hours was a long drive just to get fucked up, but there wasn't exactly a hopping club scene in Athens County. The pills in my pocket felt like they were burning a hole through my designer jeans. I'd promised myself I wouldn't need them tonight. Promised I could handle one night of just being... me. Whatever that meant.

"Remember when we used to do movie nights instead?" Xavier's voice was soft, nostalgic. "All of us piled on the couch while Papa tried to teach us to appreciate old Russian films?"

"Yeah, maybe we should do that again sometime," I said, throat tight. He meant back before I needed chemical courage just to exist. Before I'd met Ash and realized how much I was capable of wanting someone. Before I'd started using strangers' beds to try filling the hollow spaces inside me.

The familiar sharp-edged energy was already buzzing under my skin as Elysium's neon facade came into view. Not excitement exactly, but that desperate need to lose myself in something, anything. The craving to be someone else, just for a few hours.

We didn't wait in line. Algerone's money was good for something, at least. One crisp hundred passed to the bouncer, and the velvet rope lifted. Music hit us like a physical force as we stepped inside, bass so heavy I could feel it in my bones.

Elysium wasn't just a club; it was a fucking experience. The building was a converted warehouse with exposed brick and industrial beams, purple lasers slicing through artificial fog like something out of a dream. The main dance floor was sunken, a pit where beautiful people fought to lose themselves in the music. Up on the VIP balcony, the city's elite lounged on white leather couches, watching the chaos below like gods on Mount Olympus.

"Yo, let's get this party started right!" I pulled out my baggie of pills, loving how they glowed under the black light. "Scored a grab bag of primo shit. What's your poison? Molly? K? A few Nexus..."

Xavier didn't hesitate, plucking a pink tablet marked with a butterfly. Good. I liked when people didn't question me, didn't try to fix me. But Xion just shook his head, and something in my chest twisted.

"Strict orders from Sir," Eli said when I offered him the bag. "Dancing and drinks only. No chemical assistance." His expression was apologetic but firm. Shepherd had him well-trained.

I forced a laugh. "Shepherd's such a buzzkill. What's the point of being vigilante royalty if we can't have a little fun?"

I turned to Leo, who was hovering at Xavier's shoulder like a nervous shadow. "What about you, pretty boy? Ready to pop at least one cherry tonight?"

Leo shuffled his feet, pushing his glasses up his nose. His eyes darted to Xavier—seeking permission, validation, safety —and something ugly twisted in my gut. The rejection stung more than it should have.

Xavier stepped closer to Leo, protective. "Hey, no pressure. You're safe with us either way."

The words hit like a slap. No pressure? What the fuck did that mean? Like I was some kind of threat they needed protecting from? The familiar spiral started. I was too much, too needy, too broken .

But then Leo surprised me. He squared his shoulders and held out his hand. "What the hell. When in Rome, right?"

"That's my boy!" I laughed, too loud, too bright, as I dropped a pill into his palm. "Bottoms up, bitches!"

The Molly hit like electricity through my veins fifteen minutes later. Suddenly, everything was more . The colors were brighter, music deeper, skin hypersensitive to every brush of fabric. The beat wasn't just sound anymore; it was alive inside me, driving out thoughts of Ash and his disappointed eyes.

But then I saw Xavier and Leo together, and the high started to sour. They moved like they were made for each other, Xavier's hands gentle on Leo's hips, Leo's head tipped back in complete trust. The tenderness of it made my chest ache. They had something real building between them while I was out here trying to fill the void with chemicals and strangers' touch.

When some meathead tried getting handsy with Leo, Xavier was there in an instant. Not violent, just... protective. Like Leo was something precious worth defending. My throat got tight watching them. That's what I wanted. Not just someone to fuck me or fill the empty spaces, but someone who would show up. Someone who would look at my mess and still think I was worth protecting.

Someone like Ash, with those storm-gray eyes that seemed to see right through me.

I needed air. The crowd was too much, bodies pressing too close, everything too bright and loud and real . I shoved my way through the writhing mass of humanity toward the back exit, gasping as the cool night air hit my overheated skin.

The alley behind the club was all wet pavement and neon reflections, couples making out against graffiti-covered walls. And then I saw him through the haze of drugs and desperation. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with that same salt-and-pepper hair as Ash. For a second, my drug-addled brain actually thought it was him. Stupid. As if Ash would ever be caught dead in a place like this. But from behind, in the neon-tinted darkness, this guy could have been his double. My heart stopped, then kicked into overdrive. Maybe that's what I needed, a cheap knockoff to get the real thing out of my system.

He noticed me staring and smirked, but it wasn’t quite right. Ash's smirks had an edge of danger to them, promised consequences I was dying to earn. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and I was definitely begging tonight. His cigarette hit the ground as he stalked closer, eyes silver in the neon glow. They weren't that perfect storm-gray I'd been dreaming about, but they were close enough to pretend.

"Hey beautiful," he drawled, voice rough like he'd been chain-smoking through a life I couldn't imagine.

"Hey yourself," I purred back, falling into the familiar pattern. Flirt, seduce, self-destruct. At least this script I knew by heart.

"Name's Zach," he said, crowding into my space. He smelled like leather and cloves. All wrong, nothing like Ash's clean aftershave and gunpowder.

"What's in a name?" I quoted, letting my voice go breathy and desperate. "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

"Shakespeare, huh?" His laugh was low and heated as his hands found my hips. "Smart and sexy." He pressed me back against the brick wall, grinding against me. "What do you say we find a dark corner and have some fun?"

My body hummed with artificial courage as I pressed back against him. This close, I could almost pretend he was Ash. Almost. "Thought you'd never ask, daddy."

His grip tightened, mouth crashing into mine, all teeth and tobacco. Wrong, wrong, wrong . But I kissed back anyway, desperate and messy, trying to lose myself in the sensation. It wasn't Ash's careful control or commanding presence, but maybe it would be enough to make me forget what I really wanted.

"Gonna bend you over right here," he growled against my neck, dragging me deeper into the shadows, and something in me started to fracture. His hands were everywhere, too rough, too fast, nothing like the controlled strength I craved. Reality started bleeding through the high. This wasn't what I wanted, wasn't who I wanted.

"Wait," I gasped, but his mouth swallowed the word. My heart pounded, not from desire, but from the helpless spiral of losing control.

"Stop," I tried again, voice straining against the music and drugs and fear. But Zach wasn't listening, his grip bruising as he—

Suddenly he was gone, ripped away by familiar hands. Xavier stood between us, fury radiating off him in waves. "He said stop, asshole."

Zach raised his hands, backing away with that same ugly smirk. "My bad, bro. Didn't realize he was taken." His eyes raked over me one last time. "See you around, pretty boy."

The silence after felt heavier than the bass still pounding through the walls. Xavier turned to me, rage and worry warring in his expression. "What the fuck, Dee?" His voice cracked on the childhood nickname.

I forced a smirk, trying to hide how badly I was shaking. "Chill. Not like I haven't hooked up with randos before."

"Not like this!" Xavier's hands clenched into fists. "Not when you're too fucked up to even say no! If we hadn't been here..."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died in my throat. He wasn't wrong. But admitting that meant admitting everything else—how desperate I was to feel something real, how terrified I was of ending up alone, how much I wanted someone to see all my broken pieces and still think I was worth saving.

Eli's steady hand landed on my shoulder. "Come on, Xander. Let's get you home before your brother has an aneurysm."

I let them bundle me into the car, the high fading into something raw and hollow. Xavier kept throwing worried glances in the rearview mirror, and I couldn't meet his eyes. His concern was too much right now. Xion's solid presence beside me was grounding, even if neither of us mentioned how this wasn't the first time he'd seen me spiral. Some traumas you learned to live with.

"Your brother's going to kill me," Eli muttered from the front seat, fiddling with one of his leather cuffs. "Sir specifically told me to keep you guys out of trouble."

"Not your fault," Xavier said quietly. "You can't watch all of us all the time. And Shepherd knows how Xander gets."

I wanted to argue, to tell them I didn't need a fucking babysitter, but the words stuck in my throat. They were right. I was a mess. No wonder Ash looked at me like I was a problem to be solved.

Leo stared out the window, shoulders tense. The silence from him hurt worse than any lecture. He'd trusted me enough to take that pill, and how had I repaid him? By proving exactly why people shouldn't trust me.

The two-hour drive back to Liar's Corner stretched endlessly in front of us. Streetlights strobed across the windshield as we left Columbus behind, each flash making my head throb. The comedown was hitting hard, leaving me raw and exposed.

"Remember the night we stole Papa's vodka?" Xavier's voice cut through the quiet. "And you insisted we could make proper Russian drinking toasts?"

A weak laugh escaped me. " Da . And I kept getting the words wrong until Papa found us trying to toast the moon." The memory was soft around the edges. It came from simpler times, before I'd learned how to hurt myself in more creative ways.

"He wasn't even mad," Xavier continued, his voice gentle in that way that meant he was trying to pull me back from the edge. "Just sat down and taught us the right words. Said if we were going to be degenerates, we might as well be cultured ones."

Xion's hand found mine in the dark, squeezing once. We didn't do touch often, not since the incident, but sometimes... sometimes we both needed the reminder that we'd survived worse than this.

"Sir won't be mad either," Eli offered, though his fingers kept worrying at his cuff. "Worried, yeah. But he gets it. Hell, some of his alters have done way worse."

By the time we pulled up to the house, I was barely keeping my eyes open. The familiar sight of our mid-century farmhouse looked surreal in the pre-dawn light. Home. Even if I didn't always feel like I deserved it.

Xion helped me up the stairs while Xavier walked Leo to his car. The normalcy of it all— the creaky third step, the family photos lining the walls, the faint smell of Papa's piroshki from earlier—made my chest ache. How many times would they have to pick up my pieces before they got tired of putting me back together?

I caught the tail end of Xavier's quiet conversation with Leo through the open window. "Text me when you get home, okay?"

"I will. Promise." Leo's voice was soft but steady. Still trusting, even after seeing what a shit show tonight had been.

My chest tightened at the gentle concern in his voice. That's what real connection looked like, someone caring enough to check if you made it home. Would Ash ever worry about me like that? Or would he see tonight as proof that I was exactly the kind of mess he didn't need in his life?

"You good to take it from here?" Xion asked Xavier when he came back upstairs. He still had that watchful look he got sometimes, like he was calculating exit routes and threat assessments. Old habits died hard.

"Yeah, thanks, Ten." Xavier's voice was quiet but steady. "Tell Boone we said hi."

Xion’s expression softened slightly. "Text if you need anything. Boone's got us on standby for a job tomorrow, but..." The rest went unsaid.

I wanted to tell him I didn't need his protection anymore, that we were past that, but I just nodded, and he squeezed my shoulder once before heading out. The gesture meant more than either of us would admit.

Xavier's eyes met mine as the front door clicked shut, and his expression softened from worrying to something gentler. But instead of the lecture I deserved, he just helped me get my boots off and pulled the blanket over both of us like when we were kids. His silent support hurt worse than anger would have.

"I'm sorry," I whispered into the darkness, not sure if I was apologizing for tonight or for being the kind of person who needed apologizing for.

"I know, bratishka ," he murmured back. "I know."

Sleep pulled at me, but I couldn't stop seeing Ash's face, imagining his disappointment if he knew how far I'd fallen tonight. Training tomorrow was going to be hell. But maybe that's what I deserved. I deserved to face him with my sins written all over me, to let him see exactly what kind of mistake he'd made betting on me.

Papa's words echoed in my head as consciousness faded: " Solnyshko , you shine too bright to let anyone dim you." But what if I was the one doing the dimming? What if I was burning myself out, one bad decision at a time?