Page 63 of Nemesis

“Please just leave me alone,” I plead.

His green eyes search my face. “You know I can’t.”

“I don’t know that. I don’t know why you’re in Sterling Falls, or even why you went down to Terror. I don’t know why Kade—” I cut myself off.

His brows raise. “Kade Laurent?”

Shit.

Fuck.

“Uh…”

He glances around like the man might be hiding in my apartment. Comical, seeing as how he was that culprit tonight.

“He’s in Sterling Falls?” Reese’s gaze swings back to me, the intensity of it catching me off guard.

“Y-yeah, he’s been looking for you.”

“Did he—?” He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, and then he’s up and moving. He goes to the window, peering down at the street far below.

“Reese.”

“I’m leaving,” he murmurs. “I’m going. I wanted to talk to you, Artemis, but I thought we had time.”

“He doesn’t know?—”

“You cannot tell me that.” He shakes his head. “Just… stay safe. Please.”

My brows furrow.

He wants me to be safe?

What the fuck does that mean?

I don’t get the chance to find out, because before I can ask, he slips out the door.

And he’s gone.

“What’sa girl like you doing in a place like this?” A man leans an elbow on the bar beside me. He’s at least fifteen years older than me, judging by the gray at his temples and the fine wrinkles around his eyes. Still handsome, but not my type.

I scowl. “The bottomless mimosas, obviously.”

We’re in what used to be Descend, a bar that was run by the Titans in West Falls. It fell into a bit of disrepair—okay, a lot of disrepair—but a few months ago, someone bought the shell of a building and sent in a crew to fix it up.

And now, it’sMadness. Because whoever now owns it seems to have a sense of fucking humor. Get it? Descend into madness? That’s where I’m going anyway, the way I’ve been spiraling lately.

Just to be clear—there are no bottomless mimosas here. They probably don’t even have orange juice in stock, let alone Prosecco. Descend was never that type of bar, and the new owners apparently decided to keep up the same motto.

It’s dark, the atmosphere mostly dim string lights, lamps, or fake candles, with splashes of neon around. Like the one that says,fall down the rabbit holebehind the bar, casting all the liquor bottles in red.

The guy doesn’t seem to know what to do with me, especially as the bartender reappears in front of me with a glass of whiskey.

Getting a clear liquor in this place is about as likely as a fucking mimosa.

I toss it back and wipe the back of my mouth.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

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