Page 26 of Poison's Promise

“Hey, girl,” I reply, sliding onto a stool. “Get me a shot of vodka.”

“Coming right up.” She pours the clear liquid into a shot glass, sliding it over to me with a knowing look. “Something eating you?”

“Just need to unwind,” I say, tossing back the shot and feeling the burn all the way down.

“Another,” I say, sliding the empty glass back toward Siren.

Her eyes narrow slightly, but she grabs the bottle of vodka again without a word and pours me another shot.

The liquid glistens under the dim lights of the clubhouse, almost mocking me with its clarity.

“Thanks,” I mutter, taking the glass and downing it just as quickly as the first. The familiar burn travels down my throat, settling into a warm pool in my stomach.

For a moment, it’s enough to dull the edge.

“All right, Poison,” Siren finally says, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. “What the hell is going on? Somethin’ isn’t right.”

My lips twitch into a bitter smile. Trust Siren to cut straight to the chase. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Sure as hell doesn’t look like nothing.” Her eyebrow arches again, this time with a mix of concern and curiosity. “You don’t usually knock ‘em back like this unless something’s up.”

I laugh, but it sounds hollow even to my own ears. “Since when did you become my therapist?”

“Since you started looking like you’ve got a ghost chasing you,” she shoots back. “So spill. What’s eating away at you?”

“You’re relentless, you know that?” I shake my head, trying to keep the sarcasm in my voice. But it’s hard when all I want to do is scream or cry or... something.

“Comes with the territory,” she replies smoothly. “Now talk.”

I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of her gaze on me. “It’s complicated.”

“Most things worth talking about are.”

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Have I mentioned how annoying you are?”

“Nope, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve heard it.” Siren laughs, her eyes never leaving mine.

“There’s bad blood,” I start, choosing my words carefully. “Things that can’t be undone.”

“Okay, I have to stop you there. That’s bullshit, and you know it,” she counters, shaking her head. “There’s always a way to undo things if you’re willing to try.”

“Not this time,” I insist, my voice dropping to a whisper.

“Why not?” she presses, stepping closer.

“Because some scars run too deep,” I admit, feeling the truth of my words like a punch to the gut.

“Scars heal,” Siren replies softly, her tone surprisingly gentle. “It’s the wounds you leave untreated that fester.”

“Maybe,” I concede, but I’m not convinced. Not entirely.

“Look,” she says, placing a hand on mine. “Whatever it is, you’re not alone. You’ve got family here. Remember that.”

“My ex is the one on tour with Sydney,” I say, setting the empty shot glass down with a thud.

---