Page 27 of Poison's Promise

Siren blinks, processing the information. “Wait, the same guy she’s collaborating with? The one who’s here on the property right now?”

“Yep, that would be the one,” I nod, a mirthless smile playing on my lips. “And I haven’t seen him in years. Now, I’m stuck being around him for who knows how long.”

“Wow,” Siren breathes, shaking her head slightly. “That’s... intense. Was it a bad breakup?”

“Bad doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I reply, my voice tinged with a mix of sarcasm and lingering pain.

Siren’s gaze softens, and she reaches across the bar, placing a hand on mine. “Damn, Poison. That sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” I mutter, glancing around the room.

The sight of the kids playing and the brothers laughing feels like a stark contrast to the turmoil whirling around in my mind.

“Anything specific that makes it so bad?” Siren asks cautiously, trying to probe without pushing too hard.

“Let’s just say,” I begin, choosing my words carefully, “there were things happening in the background, lies believed, that catapulted us thousands of mile away from one another without a word.”

“Just remember, scars heal,” she says, echoing her earlier sentiment. “You just have to give it a shot. Talk about things, get it off your chest. I’m sure you?—”

“I know,” I cut her off, rolling my eyes. “It’s more complicated than that, Siren. If it was simpler, I’d probably try to mend things with him. It’s just a fucking mess.”

“Things always are.” Her tone is gentle but firm, unyielding. “But you’re strong, Poison. You’ll get through this.”

“Thanks,” I say, appreciating her support even if I don’t fully believe her words.

“Anytime,” she replies, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.

As I turn away from the bar, I catch sight of Asher across the room.

Our eyes lock, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

The noise, the people, the laughter—all of it becomes background static.

He starts walking toward me, a predatory glint in his eyes.

My heart races, my skin tingling with a mix of anticipation and dread.

“Polly,” he greets me, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down my spine.

“No one here calls me that,” I reply, my own voice sounding steadier than I feel.

He snickers, “Yeah, well, I’m not like everyone else here.”

I scoff, “You’re not lyin’ about that.”

“Want to step outside for some air?” He asks, though it’s more of a statement than a question.

“Sure,” I nod, following him towards the door.

It’s probably a better idea for us to step outside anyways, away from prying ears.

We step out into the cool night air, the sounds of the clubhouse muffled behind us.

The moon casts a pale glow, highlighting the rugged lines of Asher’s face.

He stops and turns to face me, his eyes dark and intense.

“What’s going on with you?” he asks, picking away at the walls I’m struggling to keep standing up.

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