Page 5

P utting my car in park, I wiped away the last traces of tears. The bell above the door chimed as I entered Faith's salon, the scent of shampoo and warmth wrapping around me like a friend's embrace. So different from the doctor's office coldness still clinging to my skin like static.

Faith reclined in one of the sleek black chairs that still smelled faintly like expensive conditioners, eyes popping open at my entrance. Her long, dark brown hair was twisted into a messy updo that somehow looked effortlessly flawless, like everything about her. A spark flashed across her face as she took me in, but it was quickly replaced by that bright smile that made everyone feel like they mattered.

"Well hey there, stranger." The happy lilt in her voice coaxed a smile from me. She was already pulling my purse from my hands, herding me toward a free chair. Faith's energy hit like sunlight on espresso. "I've been missing my Oakley time."

"You just look forward to the treats I make you," I managed, the joke landing hollow in a throat still raw with my breakdown earlier.

"Maybe." Her lips curved into something real as she draped the cape around my shoulders. She combed gently at the nape of my neck. "But I miss my Oakley time more."

The fabric settled across me, and then she turned the chair—right into the reflection's harsh judgment. My gaze red-rimmed and raw from crying in my car, but that familiar jade green held steady.

Faith caught my eyes in the glass, concerned and softening her usual playful expression. "Those worry lines don't belong on that pretty face." Her hands were still in my hair, soft and tentative. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

I wrung the silky fabric nervously between my fingers, seeking familiar comfort in fidgeting. Have a Lil' Faith salon had always been a safe space, one of the only spaces where judgment didn't hover in the corners. But after this morning's humiliation at the doctor's office, vulnerability felt like an open wound.

"I had a doctor's appointment," the words tasted bitter on my tongue. She combed through my hair with practiced ease, her gaze steady, filled with that quiet understanding that set her apart. She didn't rush to fill the silence, didn't offer empty comfort. She just waited, creating space for whatever I was willing to share. "I'm thinking about trying something new." The lie slipped out easier than the truth. My fingers curled tighter into the draped fabric's edge. "Maybe... maybe a workout class?"

Faith's eyes lit up, but she reined in her enthusiasm, like she knew the cost of this small step toward trust. "You know, I teach dance classes at Crystal Peak." The blades hovered like a warning as she returned to work, each stroke somehow both grounding and freeing. "Six days a week, actually. Got to make ends meet somehow without a car."

"You teach classes?" The question came out smaller than intended, my mind already racing through worst-case scenarios I couldn't unthink.

"Mmhmm." She met my eyes in the mirror again. "And before you start spinning those anxious thoughts, I can make it a private class. Just you and whoever you want to bring."

"But how do you get there without a car?" I asked, genuinely curious how she managed.

"Crystal Peak is just three blocks from my apartment," Faith said with a smile. "I walk there, and anywhere else I can. For grocery runs, I usually catch rides with one of the other instructors. You'd be surprised how far charm and homemade cookies will get you in the hitchhiking department."

I stayed silent, more emotion ripping through me. Faith usually filled the quiet, softening my rough edges with her chatter. She adopted my introverted self, refusing to give up when others would have moved on.

"Why the sudden interest?" When I didn't answer, curling into the chair like it might shield me, she saw through the stillness I hid behind - she never let me hide for long. "I think I know why." I braced myself for a lecture, for the kind of well-meaning advice that usually left new scabs on old wounds. But Faith just rolled her eyes and leaned in close, her presence gentle.

"Babe, you're gorgeous," she murmured, fluffing my hair with one hand, her chin resting lightly on my shoulder. The ease of it made me tense — casual closeness always did — but that was just Faith. She reached like it was instinct, touched like she was trying to soften the edges I guarded. "Yeah, I know. Total cliché. But I mean it. I'd kill for hair like yours — mine's wrecked from years of bleach and bad decisions. And your eyes? God, people would kill for eyes like yours." She positioned herself behind my chair, arms wrapping around me like armor I didn't know how to wear. My spine locked up. She hugged me tighter, her gaze finding mine in our reflection. "There's a lot of numbers that define us. Don't let one ruin you."

The kindness in her words scraped against raw places inside me. It wasn't just one number that ruined me–it was everything attached to that number, a lifetime of being made to feel inhuman for the body I lived in.

Tears threatened to escape once again as my throat stung from holding them back. If Faith noticed, she'd just press harder, not knowing she was making it worse. There would always be a different societal standard between us, a rift too deep for reassurance to reach.

Her expression softened gently—empathy, I hoped, not pity. Straightening herself, she jabbed the brush in the air, pointing it over my head. "Dance class tomorrow night. Bring your friends along too."

Would Joslyn and Nyla be interested? Joslyn worked out with Sarge. Nyla said exercise gave her hives. But I knew they'd come. For me. "Y-Yeah. I'll ask them."

Faith wiggled her eyebrows, teasing. "Can't wait to see those hips of yours move." She winked, already lifting the scissors.

The bell chimed, sharp as a warning. Faith didn't pause, just flicked her eyes to the glass. My heart plummeted. Heavy footsteps hit the polished tile, measured and deliberate. A broad figure filled the doorway, blocking the sunlight. Tattoos rippled beneath a black tank, his cut draped across his back like a silent warning. He spotted Faith instantly, gaze skipping right over me. "Rent's due, Faith."

She kept sectioning my hair, not even looking up. "I think that Just-For-Men gray is frying your brain. I'm clearly busy."

Knight sank into a chair, sprawling casually, his presence demanding attention. "I don't mind waiting."

"I'm sure you don't." The words hissed through clenched teeth as metal flashed between her fingers. "But no free shows today, big guy. I wear baggy clothes when I know you're coming."

Knight smirked, gaze locked challengingly on Faith through the glass, elbows on his knees as he leaned in. Strength coiled beneath inked skin. "So you were looking forward to seeing me?"

"My scissors are hungry for another taste of your blood." The line slid out so easily that it made my stomach twist. Not fear—something darker. Like I was watching foreplay that could end in murder.

He laughed, and something hungry flickered in his gaze. Her edge didn't scare him—it turned him on. "You know I like a little kink, baby."

She rolled her eyes and resumed combing through my hair like nothing happened. "Men."

The way Knight looked at Faith reminded me of how V watched me. That same devouring focus—the kind that made you forget to breathe. But where V's gaze carried the weight of death, Knight's held something lighter, almost teasing. He bursts into laughter, his stare brushed mine before I jerked away, mentally cursing as recognition dawns. "Oakley?"

Faith looked down at me as I attempted to become invisible, her fingers tensing around the scissors as she turned, like she'd done this dance before. "You two know each other?"

His grin curved, arrogant and unbothered by her battle stance. "Jealous?"

She snorted beside my ear, unapologetically loud. "Not in this lifetime or any other ones where I have the unfortunate luck of meeting you." Faith tightened the draped fabric like armor, a silent warning coiled in the motion. "I already killed one man in this shop, I'm not afraid to kill another."

My stomach dropped. Did she mean that literally?

"You wound me." Knight chuckled, but something flickered in his eyes—a flash of rejection, quickly buried beneath practiced charm. "But, yeah, we know each other."

"How?" She gathered pieces of my hair, fingers steady even as tension hummed between them. "You two don't look like you run with the same crowd." Her features warmed as she glanced at me, that protective instinct surfacing again.

"Her dad's part of the Souls," Knight said with a smirk, catching my sharp intake of breath. The club's name felt like forbidden knowledge in this radiant space. "Calm down, Oak. She knows about us." Faith's muttering floated past like smoke as he kept his focus locked on me. "How long have you been coming here?"

My breath froze as my heart slammed against my ribs. Blood rushed to my face, embarrassment and dread colliding. I gripped the drape tighter, wishing I could vanish—why did he have to bring them up here? "Two years."

Risking a glance at Knight, I found relief when his attention turned back to Faith. "Two years, and I only found out about you a few months ago?" His eyes narrowed, voice threaded with something possessive and bruised.

"Yes, I generally keep a low profile. And don't keep sitting around here. People are going to start thinking we're together," she added, tossing him a glare. "I need these men to think I'm single if I want to flirt more tips out of them."

Knight leaned forward, the movement fluid yet threatening. His massive frame bent as he rested his elbows on his knees, cobalt eyes locked on Faith, crackling with a magnetism that made the air snap. "Flirt with another man in front of me and he won't have fucking hands to pay you with."

Nausea curdled in my gut. I'd seen that look before–the one that promised death. The way Knight's shoulders tensed and his hands tightened, knuckles whitening against his knees told me this wasn't an idle threat.

Tension crackled between them—desire as sharp as shattered glass. It was different from the way V stalked me— his presence suffocating with the weight of death. Knight's focus carried intensity, not malice. Passion, not emptiness.

Faith moved gracefully, shifting her stance without looking at him, reaching for a comb on the counter. Her hip brushed his shoulder in passing—a spark against dry kindling. His pupils dilated instantly, tracking every movement with the intent of something starved finally catching a scent.

A dare flickered behind her lashes as she met his challenge, the casual brush of her body against his arm baiting him like a lure.

"Don't you have someone else to harass?" Faith snapped, her voice clipped, but there was a tightness beneath it, like holding back something sharp.

His laugh rumbled deep, a sound that spoke more of hunger than humor. "None as entertaining as you, gorgeous."

The way his attention latched onto her reminded me of how V tracked me. But where V's attention weighed like a burial shroud, Knight's burned—threatening but passionate. Faith seemed to dance in that furnace, letting it warm her edges without burning too close.

"Watch who you're calling gorgeous." The scissors paused mid-snip, our eyes met, not in glass but something sharper as she smiled with a gleam like the blade in her hand. "Last time you got too familiar, you needed stitches."

Knight unfolded slowly, deliberately, from the parlor chair. His boots hit the polished floor heavily, sending a faint tremor through my shoes. He moved directly behind Faith, their reflections blurring into one dark shape. His breath ghosted across her ear, voice lowering to a velvet rasp.

"Worth every second." The silver barbell in his tongue caught the light like a blade drawn slowly. His words curled around Faith's ear, intimate and threatening. "One of these days, that smart mouth is gonna get you in trouble."

Where I'd shake, Faith stood steady, even with a known murderer behind her. "And one of these days you're gonna learn I don't respond well to threats." The scissors rose, unhurried, finding his jugular like a kiss meant to scar.

My lungs forgot how to work as I witnessed them locked in their deadly routine. Knight's fingers flexed against Faith's throat. His laugh fractured the tension—cracked and sharp—before he stepped back, rubbing the spot where cold metal whispered against his skin.

"Fiery as ever." The words carried equal parts admiration and caution—enough to taste like fear.

Faith withdrew her blade from his neck, "Now be a good boy and know your place."

The hostility in Knight's expression melted into something feral, "Which is?"

"Beneath me," she hissed, pointing to the chair. "Now sit or get out."

My stomach twisted as Knight's tongue traces his top lip, Faith's eyes followed the movement, betraying her so-called indifference. His voice laced with poison, "I'll be your good boy, baby."

Faith's eyes caught mine, seeing my discomfort. Her next movement put her body subtly between Knight and me.

I kept my eyes fixed downward, studying the dark strands of trimmed hair collecting on the cloth. The familiar pattern of snipping scissors provided rhythm to their unspoken exchange, punctuated only by Knight's limbs twitching like he'd barely leashed.

"Almost done," Faith told me. She said it sweetly, like she didn't just threaten to gut someone.

I risked a glance but regretted it immediately. She tracked his motion like a sixth sense, tongue toying with the barbell like he was savoring the tension.

Faith kept her cool, but tension clung to her shoulders. She shifted with urgency, as if outrunning the pull between them. She fluffed my hair one final time, pretending not to notice how Knight drank her in like he was starving. "All done, gorgeous."

The mirror showed a stranger wearing my face. The layers should help, but the glass mocked me, highlighting every flaw I dreaded. I twisted the edge of the smock nervously as I fought the urge to look away from this version of me that never showed what I wanted to see.

"What do you think?" Her words threaded through the fog of self-criticism clouding my mind.

"It's beautiful," I said, the lie bitter on my tongue. Nothing about me could ever deserve that word.

Knight's low whistle cut through my spiral, but his attention remained fixed on Faith. He watched her hands moving through my hair one last time, like he paid for front-row tickets to her touch. I was grateful for his fixation - his indifference shielded me from the weight of being seen. My nails pressed into the smock's edge as I pretended to admire myself, while every nerve begged me to vanish.

My muscles protested as I stood, the fabric sliding away like discarded armor. Faith moved toward the front desk, and goosebumps chased down my spine as Knight trailed us like smoke. "See you tomorrow?"

Knight loomed, sealing off my escape like a wall made of muscle and heat. "What's going on tomorrow?"

Faith's eyes narrowed at him, her pretty red lips curling into a sneer. "None of your business."

"I mean, you can either tell me now or I could follow Oakley. See where she disappears to." He shrugged, arms crossing as he filled the doorway, all menace and quiet calculation. "And if you don't pay rent tonight, I'll just come by tomorrow with a late fee."

My stomach clenched sharply, breath hitching. One psychopath stalking me was enough. My pulse quickened at his words—not because Knight scared me like V did, but because I'd learned what happens when men like them decided you were worth following. "I'm going to work out with Faith tomorrow."

"I could teach you some moves of my own," Knight added with a smirk that sent my spine shrinking. The thought of working out in front of him made my insides writhe.

Faith whirled toward him like an avenging angel. "The only thing you can teach me is disappointment." Her small hands found his tattooed shoulders, trying to shift a mountain that knew it wouldn't budge.

Knight planted his hands on the frame, muscles flexing as he resisted her push. Their bodies create a charged tableau—heat and defiance tangled tight enough to snap. "Who else is gonna watch your back?"

"I'd rather bench press alone in the dark than have you anywhere near me," Faith grunted, still pushing against the mountain that was Knight. The contrast between her slender frame and his massive one should be intimidating, but Faith wore defiance like it was stitched into her skin.

I pressed myself against the front desk, trying to vanish into the wood grain as their heated flirtation escalated.

"Dark, huh?" Knight's eyebrows wiggled suggestively, his grin twisted darkly with a smile that masked his teeth. "I can work with that. Just you, me, and some?—"

Faith's hands dropped from his shoulders like contact with him scorched her resolve. "Careful, I might choke you instead."

The silver metal glinted between his teeth as his smile widened, a silent challenge. “Promise?”

"Out!" Faith pointed at the door, her voice edged with menace.

"You know what they say about women who play with sharp objects—" Knight started, but Faith spun him around and shoved him through the exit.

"Goodbye, Knight! Don't come back!" His expression lightened, momentarily less wolf than man as he blew her a kiss, fingers wiggling in a wave before he turned to his motorcycle. Faith practically vibrated with leftover adrenaline, but she watched until he disappeared from view.

"I'm gonna shove that late fee so far up his ass if he tries to charge me one," Faith grumbled, turning to find me fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, eyes darting. Her expression softened immediately, noticing my tension. "You okay, honey?"

I nodded, but my mind raced through what I'd just witnessed. Knight and Faith's interaction left knots in my chest that I didn't know how to unravel. She met his pull head-on, turning his hunger into something powerless with a look. The thought of standing up to V like that made my hands tremble. Images of the basement flooded back - his cold gaze studying me like I was both precious and prey, making my ribs tighten.

Knight might be intimidating, but he didn't stop time the way V did.

"Earth to Oakley," Faith waved her hand in front of my face. "You sure you're okay?"

"Y-Yeah," I stuttered, fingers finding the hem of my shirt in the same nervous tic that'd worn the material thin. "Just nervous about tomorrow. I've never done a dance class before." The words rushed out, desperate to redirect Faith's concern away from the darker thoughts circling like vultures in the back of my skull.

Faith's expression softened as she put her scissors away, with the same ease she threaded through every movement. "I'll make sure you have fun," she said quietly, warmth softening her tone.

I knotted the shirt hem tighter, chasing steadiness through pressure. "But what if I can't keep up? Or if I look..." The words died in my throat, unable to voice the shame of moving this body in front of others. The material bunched between my fingers like it was hiding something.

"Listen," Faith set the brush down mid-motion, facing me directly with that fierce protectiveness I'd come to rely on. "It's gonna be a private class for you and your friends." Her smile carried no judgment, only warmth.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my racing thoughts. Dancing had always called to something deep inside me, a freedom I'd been too scared to claim. Maybe with my friends there... and in Faith's space, where I'd always felt somehow safer than anywhere else. Where Faith had never once looked at me the way the rest of the world did.

My lips quirked with unexpected authenticity. "That actually sounds kind of nice." My shoulders relaxed slightly—just a fraction—but enough to let a hint of warmth settle beneath my ribs.

Faith's eyes narrowed playfully. "If you bail tomorrow, I'm coming to get you myself. I'll march up to your apartment and drag you out—pajamas, robe, doesn't matter."

My heart skipped, panic flooding like a plunge into ice. The image of Faith knocking at my door, V answering, his bat propped against the wall where he always left it, made nausea rise in my throat. He'd hurt her without hesitation or remorse. The baseball bat flashed through my mind, already stained with the evidence of what happened to those who crossed his boundaries.

"No!" The word exploded from me louder than intended, making Faith's eyebrows shoot up. My chest tightened as I scrambled to pull myself together. "I-I mean, you don't need to do that. I'll be there, I swear I will."

"You sure?" She studied my face, genuine concern replacing the fake menace she hid sweetness under. "Because I meant what I said about dragging you out."

"I won't miss it." The words landed steadily for once. I clung to that small win. "What time?"

"Five thirty." Her smile rebounded like sunlight off glass—hard to look at, impossible to ignore. "Wear something you don't mind moving in."

Black leggings—no sweat stains. An oversized tee that hid more than it showed.

For just an hour, maybe I could feel that freedom again. In a dark room with music loud enough to drown out my thoughts. What if I could remember what it felt like to move without fear?

Maybe I would learn to pretend to love myself.