This was the stupidest idea ever.

I finally reach Jase’s door, but I’m almost certain he’s not here.

Should’ve gone the other way. There’s music and noise and I’m an idiot for going down the dark hallway toward the bedrooms, instead of heading for the bar and plenty of people who can help me.

Suddenly, a hand clamps onto my shoulder and I am spun around effortlessly.

Jase!

My relief turns to dread as I see Jazz towering over me, his eyes full of things that he’s promised to do to me.

“You’re wearing the shoes,” he breathes. “Fuuuuuuck.” He slams me against the wall right next to Jase’s door, his body covering mine.

“I’m kind of fucking dying here,” I mutter, pushing my palms against his hard chest.

His hand wraps around my slippery throat, wet from the blood that continues to course from my nose.

“Told you that could be arranged,” he says, grinning wickedly.

Great. He’s going to try and fuck me while this poison tries to kill me from the inside out?

I make my hand into a fist one last time and pound weakly on Jase’s door. The strychnine is in my bloodstream now and my vision is turning splotchy and dull.

“Uh-uh!” Jazz says, grabbing my wrist and wrenching my arm back. “Jase ain’t gonna save you this time, bitch.”

I feel my entire body convulse, as if trying to find a way to expel the poison that circulates within me. My ears buzz angrily and far, far away, I hear a door open and an angry voice.

It’s him, I know it. I can’t make out what he says, but I feel better knowing that he’s found me.

It’s the last thing I hear before I crumple like a piece of tissue paper and everything goes black.

When I wake up, I’m alone. It’s dark, and I hear a faint beeping noise above the din of the Los Angeles traffic outside.

I’m in a hospital.

Beige ceiling, beige walls. Stiff pillow under my pounding head. I’m propped up a little, so I move my dry eyes around the room. I inhale sharply when I see that I was mistaken.

I am not alone at all.

There’s a lone figure sitting at the foot of my bed, black eyes shining in the weak light cast from the bright hallway.

He doesn’t say anything, the silence between us making me anxious.

“What happened?” I croak, my throat full of rocks.

“I told you, you should have left,” he says bitterly.

He leans forward, and I relax as I see it’s Jase, not his father.

“My brother’s dead and my dad’s about to start a gang war.”

“What?”

He unfolds himself from his chair, coming to beside the bed, where he towers over me. His eyes are haunted, his features pinched with stress and exhaustion. A fistful of guilt and self-loathing punches me in my stomach. He’s suffering because of me, another marionette in my quest for vengeance.

“What the hell were you even doing snorting coke with Maxi and a couple of underage girls?” he asks.

I don’t know how to answer that, so I just shrug. “I don’t know.”

He appears unsatisfied with that answer, so I elaborate.

“Your dad wanted your brother to have a birthday he’d never forget.”

Jase snorts, clearly disgusted. He grabs his leather jacket from the back of the chair and shrugs into it, picking up a helmet from the floor.

“Later,” he says, marching to the door.

“Wait!” I say, struggling to sit up. “Aren’t I coming with you?”

He turns slowly, the smirk on his face something that doesn’t belong on someone as gorgeous as him.

“No.” he says. “You’re staying here. You almost fucking died. Again.”

A chill runs through me as I think about almost dying six years ago, but I quickly realize he’s talking about Dornan stabbing me a mere week ago.

“Oh,” I reply.

He looks like he’s ready to explode, his neck muscles bulging, his hands balled into fists.

“You know, I thought you were different,” he says, glaring at me. “But you’re just the same as the rest of them.”

Jase tosses something on the bed beside me. I peer down and realize it’s my phone.

“Call me when they discharge you,” he says, without looking back.

I open my mouth to speak but he’s gone, and I’m staring at a closed door.

I lay back into the pillows, cursing myself for my stupidity. This wasn’t meant to happen. I almost died?

I think for a few minutes, my head whirling.

Maxi’s dead. Dornan’s on a rampage of some sort. Jase is pissed with me.

That leaves one person.

I scroll through the three contacts on my phone. Dornan. Jason. Tattoo Guy. Elliot answers on the third ring.

“This had better be good,” he says groggily. “If you woke my daughter up, I’ll fucking kill you.”

His daughter. Jesus. I was going to ask him to come get me, but I can’t exactly ask him to leave her in the middle of the night to come break me out of my hospital room.

“Sorry,” I say quietly. “I was just…can I come see you?”

He must detect that something’s not right in my voice, because the next time he speaks, he’s wide awake. “Sure,” he says. “Everything okay?”

I glance down at my hospital gown and the IV line in my arm. “Peachy,” I reply. “I just miss you.”

“Huh,” he says. “Of course you do.”

I say goodbye and end the call.

Ten minutes later, I’m walking down San Vicente Boulevard, wearing nothing but a hospital gown that ties at the back, and blows open when the breeze stirs, showing the world my ass cheeks. I’ve got no shoes on and nothing but my phone that I clutch in my hand. It’s three in the morning and the streets are pretty quiet, my only companions a random homeless woman pushing a trolley, and the gently rustling palm trees that line the street, towering over me.

I’m aching inside, the utter desolation of my vengeful quest almost too much to bear.

But I will bear it. Because I refuse to buckle. They will not break me.

I’m a fighter, after all. And this fight’s only just begun.

Rage and loneliness alight in my chest, I stick to the shadows, and make my way to Elliot’s apartment.

Lili writes dark romance. Her serial novel, Seven Sons, was released in early 2014, with the following books in the series to be released in quick succession. Lili quit corporate life to focus on writing and is loving every minute of it. Her other loves in life include her gorgeous husband and beautiful daughter, good coffee, hanging at the beach and running. She loves to read almost as much as she loves to write.

Lili also writes paranormal fantasy.

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