Page 55 of Sage Haven

My voice cracked on the last word, betraying me more than I wanted it to.

I hated the tremble in it.

The desperation.

I hated giving him even that.

But I was past pride.

I was pleading now, my gaze lifted to his in the hope—no, the need—that he’d see what was written across my face.

How badly I needed to leave.

How wrong this felt.

But he didn’t see.

Or maybe he did.

And didn’t care.

Aaron—one of Klay’s old college friends, the kind of man who wore his cruelty like a badge of honor—stepped closer.

His breath was heavy with stale beer and something sour. The kind of smell that turned your stomach, that couldn’t scrub off no matter how hard youtried.

His grin stretched wide and leering, sharp with mockery. “Aw, come on, Sage,” he drawled, voice low and sticky, like something rotting. “No need to be scared. Things were just getting good.”

Laughter followed his words.

It rippled through the group in jagged waves.

Low. Mean. Predatory.

I wasn’t afraid of spending time with Klay’s friends.

Not at first.

In the beginning, they’d seemed like any group of guys—loud, reckless, stupid.

But it was the drinking.

It was always the drinking that changed them.

The way it blurred the line between conversation and something darker.

When their jokes dug deeper and their smiles twisted.

When they stopped seeing me as Klay’s girlfriend, and started seeing me as something else.

Something to be looked at.

Played with.

Passed around.

Most nights, I forced myself to smile.

I let their jabs roll off my shoulders, pretending they didn’t stick, pretending I didn’t feel them burrow into my skin.