Page 77 of Thirst Trap

She stepped aside. “You reek of a distillery.”

He dropped onto the sofa like it had betrayed him. “Maybe I do. Nice place. Not tacky like the Tower.”

“You’re drunk,” she said flatly. “Why are you here?”

“Because my brother’s upstairs. And you’re the only one who doesn’t flinch when I breathe wrong.” His hands dragged down his face. “And because Penny hates me.”

Maddison sat across from him. “Did you actually apologise?”

“I don’t apologise.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then what the fuck did you expect? That she’d keep covering for you forever while you sneer at her?”

His head snapped up. “Covering?”

“Don’t be an idiot. You think your secrets stay buried because you’re that good? Penny’s been protecting you for years. Keeping the wolves off the Tower steps while you drink and bleed and pretend you don’t care.”

Logan froze. The whiskey haze flickered, something raw breaking through.

“She…” His throat worked. “She didn’t tell you that.”

“She didn’t have to,” Maddison said softly. “It’s obvious. To everyone but you.”

Silence stretched. Upstairs, the shower is cut off.

Maddison leaned in. “You’re terrified she’ll see you. Newsflash,she already has. And she stayed.”

He dropped his head into his hands, groaning. “I’m fucked.”

“Yeah,” Maddison allowed, almost smiling. “But not hopeless. Go to her. Sober. Mean it. Stop pushing away the only person who actually gives a damn.”

Lucas’s voice floated down from upstairs. “Mads?”

Logan stood too quickly, nearly stumbling. Maddison crossed her arms. “Go sober. Then go find her. If you don’t…” Her voice sharpened. “You’ll regret it more than anything else you’ve ever done.”

His jaw flexed. He didn’t answer. But when he left into the night, Maddison saw it, not hope. Not yet. But resolve.

Chapter 41

Closed Door

The slam echoed louder than she meant. Penny pressed her back to the door, sliding down until she hit the floor. The chain still rattled from where she’d locked him out. Her chest heaved. Her palms shook. She pressed her forehead to her knees and finally let the sobs tear loose.

“Fuck you, Logan Creams,” she whispered into the empty apartment. Her voice cracked on his name. “Fuck you for doing this to me.”

The files were still spread across her coffee table. His face in grainy photos. His name circled in red. Reports of violence, whispers of fire and blood and everything she should hate.

Her tears blurred the ink.

She’d told him she’d stopped thinking about him. Lied right to his face. Because the truth was unbearable.

Even now, with her body shaking and her throat raw, she loved him.

And that was the cruelest part.

She hugged her knees tighter, rocking against the cold wood, trying to breathe, trying

to believe she hadn’t just shattered her own heart.