Page 7 of Hero Worship

Eli's smile turned knowing. "He might have mentioned making sure you all get home in one piece."

I caught my reflection in the mirror. Algerone's eyes stared back at me from beneath perfect winged liner, high cheekbones that could cut glass dusted with highlight. Yuri always said I got my face from my biological father, but everything I did with it? That was pure spite. The gold chain choker around my throat caught the light, and for a moment I imagined it was somethingelse—something permanent, something that marked me ashis. But Ash wouldn't want damaged goods, would he?

Yuri's voice echoed in my head, the Russian accent thicker when he was worried: "Solnyshko, you shine too bright to let anyone dim you." He'd said that the first time he caught me in makeup, back when I was still figuring out who I was. But what if shining bright just meant burning out faster?

"He's not going to be there," Xavier's voice cut through my preening. "Valentine's got better things to do than hang around clubs full of pretty twenty-somethings trying to get his attention."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I snapped, but my fingers betrayed me, fidgeting with the choker again. Xavier could always see right through my bullshit. Even after the incident with Xion, after I'd spent weeks flinching at every sudden movement, he'd known exactly what I needed. Sometimes that certainty terrified me.

"Da, and I don't know what Leo looks like when he's coding," Xavier drawled, mimicking Papa Yuri's accent perfectly. "We all have our little obsessions."

The doorbell cut through our bickering. I bounced to my feet, grateful for the escape. "Speaking of obsessions—I'll get it! Might be your boyfriend, X!"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Xavier protested, but the blush creeping up his neck said otherwise.

I swung the door open to find Leo and Xion on the doorstep. Leo clutched his messenger bag like a shield, all awkward angles and nervous energy. Behind him, Xion loomed in his usual all-black ensemble, radiating the kind of dangerous energy that used to terrify me. Now it just reminded me of shared trauma and hard-won forgiveness.

"Leo! Perfect timing. Xavier was just talking about how much he misses your face." I grinned as Leo's cheeks went scarlet.

"Get the fuck out of the way and let us in already," Xion growled, shouldering past me. But there was no real heat in it. We'd worked too hard on rebuilding our relationship to let old wounds fester. Still, sometimes when he moved too fast, I couldn't help but flinch. Some scars ran deeper than others.

Upstairs, Xavier and Leo gravitated toward each other like magnets, their knees brushing as they shared the couch. The tentative sweetness of it made my chest ache. Papa would say they were like his matryoshka dolls, perfect fits just waiting to discover each other.

I pulled out my baggie of pills, desperate to feel something—anything—other than this gnawing need for validation. For connection. For Ash's rough hands and rougher voice telling me I wasgood, I wasworthy, I washis.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs made me freeze. Papa appeared in the doorway, his tired eyes taking in the bottles, the pills, the desperate energy radiating off me in waves. His accent was heavier when he spoke, like it always was when he worried: "Promise me you will be safe tonight,solnyshko."

"Da, Papa," Xavier and I chorused. The Russian endearment felt like forgiveness I didn't deserve.

I tried not to see the way his shoulders slumped, the way worry lines creased his forehead. He'd given up everything to raise us—his homeland, his old life, even his chance at a normal family. And how did I repay him? By being exactly the kind of chaos he didn’t need.

"Let's blow this popsicle stand!" I announced, too loud, too bright. Anything to escape that knowing look in Papa's eyes. "Time to see if all those dance lessons you paid for were worth it,da?"

Papa's smile was sad, but fond. "Bozhe moy, what did I do to deserve such wild children?" But he pressed a kiss to each of our foreheads before we left, even Xion who pretended to hateit. Some Russian traditions even serial killer families couldn't shake.

Eli's sleek black Mercedes purred down the highway from Liar's Corner toward Columbus, bass from Xavier's playlist vibrating through the speakers. I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, watching the Ohio countryside blur into city lights. Two hours was a long drive just to get fucked up, but there wasn't exactly a hopping club scene in Athens County. The pills in my pocket felt like they were burning a hole through my designer jeans. I'd promised myself I wouldn't need them tonight. Promised I could handle one night of just being... me. Whatever that meant.

"Remember when we used to do movie nights instead?" Xavier's voice was soft, nostalgic. "All of us piled on the couch while Papa tried to teach us to appreciate old Russian films?"

"Yeah, maybe we should do that again sometime," I said, throat tight. He meant back before I needed chemical courage just to exist. Before I'd met Ash and realized how much I was capable of wanting someone. Before I'd started using strangers' beds to try filling the hollow spaces inside me.

The familiar sharp-edged energy was already buzzing under my skin as Elysium's neon facade came into view. Not excitement exactly, but that desperate need to lose myself in something, anything. The craving to be someone else, just for a few hours.

We didn't wait in line. Algerone's money was good for something, at least. One crisp hundred passed to the bouncer, and the velvet rope lifted. Music hit us like a physical force as we stepped inside, bass so heavy I could feel it in my bones.

Elysium wasn't just a club; it was a fucking experience. The building was a converted warehouse with exposed brick and industrial beams, purple lasers slicing through artificial fog like something out of a dream. The main dance floor was sunken,a pit where beautiful people fought to lose themselves in the music. Up on the VIP balcony, the city's elite lounged on white leather couches, watching the chaos below like gods on Mount Olympus.

"Yo, let's get this party started right!" I tugged my baggie of pills from my pocket, loving how they glowed under the black light. "Scored a grab bag of primo shit. What's your poison? Molly? K? A few Nexus..."

Xavier didn't hesitate, plucking a pink tablet marked with a butterfly. Good. I liked when people didn't question me, didn't try tofixme. But Xion just shook his head, and something in my chest twisted.

"Strict orders from Sir," Eli said when I offered him the bag. "Dancing and drinks only. No chemical assistance." His expression was apologetic but firm. Shepherd had him well-trained.

I forced a laugh. "Shepherd's such a buzzkill. What's the point of being vigilante royalty if we can't have a little fun?"

I turned to Leo, who was hovering at Xavier's shoulder like a nervous shadow. "What about you, pretty boy? Ready to pop at least one cherry tonight?"

Leo shuffled his feet, pushing his glasses up his nose. His eyes darted to Xavier—seeking permission, validation,safety—and something ugly twisted in my gut. The rejection stung more than it should have.

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