Page 10 of The Order of Disorder
A couple of girls string up lights overhead, duct-taping them to the beams like they’re decorating for prom. A man in a leather vest is hauling crates of liquor behind the bar, while another rips open bags of ice with his teeth, dumping them into a metal tub. Music is already playing louder than usual for this time of day. It’s hours before sundown, but party prep is already well underway.
A woman I’ve never seen before draws my eye.
She’s perched on a barstool, barefoot, long-legged, wearing an oversized band tee and a pair of jeans. Her hair is wild and coppery, tied up in a messy knot that looks like she did it without a mirror. She’s laughing—a big, open, teeth-flashing laugh that makes the older man beside her grin back at her, looking completely entranced.
She’s magnetic.
Confident. Unbothered.Free.
I watch her for a long moment, something aching behind my ribs. She reaches up and wipes something from the man’s face and then tosses the napkin at him with a wink.
I swallow hard.
I don’t know who she is. Don’t know her story. But to me, she looks like everything I’m not. Everything I wish I could be.
Billy comes up behind me, too close, and follows my gaze. “You staring at that girl?” he asks, amused.
“She’s pretty.” My voice is surprisingly even.
“Boobs aren’t as good as yours,” he says dismissively, and yawns.
I don’t say anything. I keep my eyes on her, letting myself imagine what it would feel like tobeher, loose and laughing and alive in your own skin. I wonder if I’ll ever feel anything like that again.
I stare for a second longer and then wrench my eyes away and close the window.
Longing is dangerous.
A knock at the door drags me all the way back to the present.
“Come in,” barks Billy.
The moment Silas walks in, my body locks up, shuttering itself against him. I can’t breathe without reminding myself to do it.
The man who murdered Ryder in cold blood.
I died too the day he pulled that trigger.
My hands curl into fists. My skin crawls. I want to scream. I want to launch myself at him and claw his fucking eyes out.
But I do nothing, as always. Because I know better.
“Shipment’s in early,” he says. “Pluto’s doing the count, but he says we’re missing two crates.”
Billy’s jaw ticks. “Fucking hell. Who signed for it?”
“Cipher was on the gate. Says the guy didn’t give him shit.”
Billy swings his legs over the side of the bed, suddenly alert. “Okay. Sit tight with our girl here while I go down.”
A smirk flickers across Silas’s face. “Wouldn’t dream of letting her out of my sight.” He glances at me—too long.
Billy stands and drags a hand through his hair, and then grabs his jeans from the floor and pulls them on. He leaves, shirtless, without another word.
Silas doesn’t say anything. He just takes up position, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
I lie down on the bed and turn my back to him, closing my eyes.
I never feel safe around him, but nothing’s ever happened when we’re alone—despite the way his eyes are always dragging over my body. Billy’s made it clear that I’m up for grabs, but always on his terms. I don’t think anyone, even Silas, would dare go against his wishes when he’s not around.
