Page 47 of Fired at the Heart

“I don’t need excuses.” I tap my foot, wanting to be gone from here. Nothing that happened tonight changed things between me and Raphael. “I need payment for services rendered and resources expended.”

The divide between our two groups has become literal. My people and me on one side, Raphael’s family on the other, and miles of space between us.

Jace moves first, taking a position slightly in front of me, Cassian on my right, and Rico sliding into place on my left.

The message is clear: this conversation is over.

Raphael takes in the wall my people have formed around me. “So that’s how it’s going to be?”

“This is how you made it.” I turn to leave, my team moving with me like a single organism, each person clear on their role in our exit strategy.

“Avery!” Raphael calls after me. “You’re still my mate.”

“Don’t start acting like that matters to you now.” I keep walking. “Have the rest of the payment ready in cash. Then we can talk.”

Off in the distance, the sound of police sirens splits the air, and we move into a jog. Lena drops down to the floor as we reach her, and she covers our backs as we head through the bay door.

Outside, the night air hits my face, cool and clean after the stale warehouse atmosphere. Our SUV and van wait, engines running, and we pile inside, Cassian taking the seat beside me.

We pull away from the warehouse, the building growing smaller with distance. Raphael is probably already planning his next move, trying to figure out how to bring me back without giving up anything on his side. He always was a strategist.

What he doesn’t understand is that some things can’t be calculated, negotiated, or bought. Some wounds don’t heal. Some partnerships, once broken, can never be restored.

Cassian’s fingers drum on his knee. “What was that back there?”

I don’t have to ask what he’s referring to. “A confirmation that nothing’s changed.”

He turns to me. “And has it?”

“No.” I stare out the window. “We go forward with the plan.”

15

Bass pounds through me like a second heartbeat, throbbing through the soles of my boots and up into my chest.

Lights flash across the faces of my crew, my people, their features twisted into expressions of victory I can’t bring myself to mirror. The night’s so-called victory tastes bitter, and my hand clenches around the drink, long grown warm and forgotten.

I can’t stop kicking myself for the heartbeat of hope where I made a fool of myself for asking Raphael to come back. What the fuck was I thinking? That one night of fighting and fucking would change his mind after all this time?

Three shots of whiskey have done nothing to blur the edges of that memory. I take another sip, relishing the burn as it travels down my throat and settles into a pool of heat in my empty stomach. The club throbs with life around me, a living, breathing entity feeding on the adrenaline of its occupants. Sweat, perfume, and pheromones blend with the sharp scent of alcohol, forming an intoxicating fog in the air.

My fingers tighten around the glass as I scan the crowd. The job went perfectly, despite not finding Jade. We took down some Omega traffickers, saved people from a life of slavery, and no one on our side died. I should be celebrating with my crew.

Instead, I’m hiding in the shadows at the edge of the dance floor, trapped between wanting to leave and knowing I can’t.

Lena catches my eye from across the room, and she raises her glass in my direction.

I lift mine back, forcing my lips into a rough acknowledgment. Not a smile, though. I don’t have one in me tonight.

She turns back to her conversation, but she’s still watching. She always is.

The younger members of my crew bounce to the rhythm of the music, their bodies fluid with alcohol and the sweet relief of survival. They look so fucking young under these lights. Young and alive and unbreakable.

“To the best damn boss!” someone shouts, and a chorus of cheers erupts from our tables.

I raise my glass again, holding the image of the unshakable leader while my thoughts churn. The mask never slips, not even now.

The crowd shifts again, bodies pressing together in the limited space, and I lose sight of my people. The music grows louder, the deeper bass vibrating in my chest. I try to let it wash over me, to drive out this useless ache.

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