Page 64 of Scattered Glitter

“I want to help,” Alaric interrupts, holding up a hand. “I’m going to help.”

“That’s… amazing. Thank you, bro.” Koen’s eyes flick to me for a moment, and I catch the subtle nod of appreciation before he turns back to Alaric.

“You’re welcome,” I mutter under my breath, smirking, and Ezra rolls his eyes at me.

Okay, maybe he’s the one who should get the praise for this.

Koen steps closer. “We saw her today. She’s good, but we’d like your input.”

Alaric nods. “That’s okay. I’ll help where I can. But…” A shadow of hesitation crosses his face. “I don’t think I’m ready to leave the house.”

Ezra, standing beside Levi, doesn’t miss a beat. “She’s not coming into the house. No way we let her in here.”

Levi rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, you big grump.”

Ezra’s sharp look silences him immediately. “I saidno, Dove.”

Levi shudders, his playful expression dropping. Ezra rarely pulls theI’m the oldest and the boss herecard, but when he does, it means he’s not messing around.

How the hell are we going to get Alaric out of here without him spiraling into a panic attack?

That’s the last thing we need right now.

Koen breaks the silence. “I have an idea…”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Novalee

Exhaustion and desperation can’t really be masked by vanilla body spray but fuck if the locker room at Euphoria doesn’t try.

I’m sitting on a bench, my back against the cold metal lockers, freshly done with my stage routine. Everything aches, from the soles of my feet to the tips of my fingers, but that deep, familiar pain in my chest is worse.

The one that never really leaves.

Tonight, everything feels off. My body is shaking, my muscles scream, and I’m still feeling nauseous as hell. The aftermath of Koen’s mind games has stuck with me, lingering in my bones like a sickness I can’t shake.

Fuck him.

My fingers twitch, an old itch resurfacing, begging for relief. Just one drink wouldn’t hurt, right? When he’s not even here? Just enough to take the edge off. But I know better now.

After I got home from that so-calledtrainingwith the twins earlier, I tried to drink, hoping the burn of whiskey would wash it all away—Koen’s coercion, the intensity, theloss of control. I’d made it halfway through the bottle before I puked it all up like Koen had intended.

That fucking bastard.

The memory of his smirk makes my blood boil. He wants me sober,needsme sober, for whatever they’ve got planned. And now? Now I can’t even numb myself, can’t take the edge off the pain the way I used to. No alcohol. Just…me.

Rawdogging life.

I tug at my pink wig, my fingers trembling, but I stop myself from pulling it off.Who would’ve thought that doing my job sober would be this fucking hard?Glitter is supposed to be untouchable, magnetic, but tonight, she feels fragile. The thought of facing everything—the Lane twins, my own emotions—without alcohol feels impossible.

You can get through this,I tell myself again. The truth is, I’m not so sure I can.

I let out a shaky breath and lean my head back against the locker, staring up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears at bay. I can’t go home, not like this. The idea of going back to that tiny, cluttered apartment and facing the silence without a bottle in my hand makes my stomach turn. I need something to take the edge off, something to get my mind out of this spiral.

If I can’t drink, then I need a different kind of high. I need someone.

A body.

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