Page 71 of Overdose

“Shit, bitch. You’re tiny but you fight like your sister,” one of them mutters near my ear, breath hot and disgusting. “She had spirit too. But guess what? It didn’t fucking save her.”

I go still.

Voices echo around me.

“You think Dante’s gonna want her clean?” someone snickers. “Or can we break her in a little first?”

“Nah. He paid for fresh.”

“Still,” the darker voice adds, thick with something cruel. “I wouldn’t mind a little taste. This one’s hotter than the other one. And it’s not like he’d ever know.”

Their laughter claws at me. Scrapes down my spine like broken teeth.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t fucking breathe.

Every nerve in my body screams—rage, fear, disbelief. My skin prickles, my blood turns to ice.

These are the guys that took her, and now they have me.

My head spins. My hands curl into fists so tight my nails cut skin. I press my forehead to the cold, stinking floor of the van, trying to steady my breath.

No one knows I left. Dagger told me to stay. I didn’t listen.

And now?—

Oh fuck no.

I am not going out like this.

My ass will not die soft or scared.

If I’m meant to die tonight, I’m dragging one of these fuckers with me.

Fourteen

Dagger

I haven’t slept morethan a couple hours in days. Not since Blair showed up at the clubhouse with that fucking Polaroid—eyes blazing, voice shaking, like the truth was the only thing she had left to hold onto. She looked at me like I was the villain in her worst goddamn nightmare.

And then—fuck.

She finally gave in.

Climbed into my lap like she was starving for it. Like I was her fix and she’d been cold-turkey too long. Used me like she needed to feel something other than the burn of betrayal in her chest. And I let her. Took every ounce of that pain she shoved between us and gave it right back, rough and raw and real.

Then—just when shit finally felt like it was going my way, like the chaos was settling and she was choosing me—fucking Noir had to show up and fuck it all up.

Of course he did.

Couldn’t let me have one fucking second. One goddamn win without slithering in to ruin it.

He looked like shit. Hollowed out and strung tight, like whatever was holding him together was one breath away fromsnapping. Sat across from me, eyes dead, shoulders locked, like he knew how close he was to catching a bullet between the eyes.

Then he laid it all out.

The bodies. The pills. The fucked-up little war he kicked off ‘cause he thought I had Brynn taken out.