EVEREST POV:

The silver glow of the moon filters through the window, casting eerie shadows across the room. My eyelids flicker open, and a familiar space surrounds me—my room at the club. But something feels... off. The faint hiss of running water and the soft, almost desperate moans drifting from the bathroom seize my attention.

I sit up, my mind still hazy, rubbing my temples as I try to focus. Steam seeps through the slightly ajar bathroom door, curling into the air like ghostly fingers. A presence lingers beyond that door. I can feel it.

Rising to my feet, I move closer, the warmth of the steam brushing against my skin. Through the glass, a small figure stands beneath the showerhead, fingers threading through long, white locks. My breath catches. I know exactly who she is.

A slow smirk tugs at my lips as I step inside, the heat wrapping around me like a heavy embrace. She doesn't turn, but she knows I'm here. She always knows—just as I do with her. A force pulls us together, something unspoken, something inevitable.

"I've missed you..." she purrs, her voice a siren's call.

I strip away my boxers and slip beneath the scorching spray, pressing against her bare, wet skin. "Oh yeah?" I murmur, my breath hot against her ear as my hands slide over her waist.

"I've missed you so much..." Her body melds into mine, her curves fitting against me perfectly. A groan rumbles in my chest as she grinds back against me, igniting a fire that blazes beyond control.

But then—

"Oh, Logan..."

I freeze.

Everything in me locks up as the name slithers from her lips, slicing through the heat like a dagger to my gut. My grip on her tightens, my breathing sharp and unsteady. I step back, towering over her, my pulse hammering.

Anger.

Rage.

The water pelts against my back, but I don't feel it. All I feel is fire—burning, consuming.

Then she looks up. Tear-filled eyes, wide with something close to terror. My rage wavers, twisting into something colder—dread. I reach for her, but she recoils, slapping my hand away.

"How could you let him do this to me?!" she screams.

She thrusts her arms out, revealing deep, angry cuts and dark bruises marring her skin. My breath stutters. My head shakes in denial.

"No..."

The fury drains from me, replaced by something far worse—fear.

"I'll kill him." The vow escapes before I can stop it, my hands reaching for her—but I can't touch her. She's slipping away, as if the very air is swallowing her whole.

"Avery!"

The shower dissolves around us, morphing into an endless, sterile white hallway. She stands at the other end, so far away—too far. My legs feel weighted, but I push forward, desperate to reach her.

Then—he appears.

A dark figure emerges from the void, his presence suffocating. His hand wraps around her throat.

"No!" I roar, sprinting, but the hallway stretches, lengthening the distance between us. My chest tightens. She gasps, her body thrashing against his grip, her eyes pleading for help.

"STOP! PLEASE!" I beg, but my voice is swallowed by the emptiness.

Then, as if time itself shatters—he lets go.

Avery's body crumples. I lunge forward, catching her just before she hits the cold, unforgiving ground. Her hair spills through my fingers as I cradle her, her once vibrant face now bruised, bloodied... lifeless.

A sinister chuckle rumbles through the air.

I look up, and he's standing there, watching. A smirk carved into his shadowed face.

"You said I could have her."

His words coil around me like a noose. Fury detonates inside me. I launch at him—

But he's gone.

Vanished.

Leaving me clutching Avery's broken body, drowning in the weight of my own failure.

"Sin!?"

A sharp voice pierces the darkness, jolting me awake. My body is drenched in sweat, my pulse hammering in my ears. Disoriented, I scan my surroundings until reality settles in—I'm in my trailer. Beside me, Bree sits upright, her eyes filled with concern.

"You were screaming," she says, voice shaky. "Shaking, too. I didn't know what to do."

I drag a hand over my face, furrowing my brows as the remnants of the dream fade into the edges of my consciousness. It wasn't real.

But the fear clawing at my chest tells me it could be.

I push Bree aside and stand, reaching for my jeans, my movements quick, calculated. "I'm leaving," I say coldly, fastening the button. "Be gone when I get back."

She hesitates. "But—"

I cut her off, my voice low and sharp. "And if you tell anyone about this..." I grab her by the throat, pulling her close until our faces are inches apart. Her breath catches, fear flashing in her eyes. I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in.

"You're dead."

She nods furiously, and I release her without another glance. My focus has already shifted.

I need to find Avery.

And I need to find Logan, that stupid fuck who's trying to take her away from me.

—————————————————-

AVERY'S POV:

"Thanks for picking me up," I say as I slide into Brooke's car, exhaling a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

The moment I stepped out of that bar, I called her. No way was I making the mistake of walking home again—not after last time.

"Girl, I told you I'd be stalking your location," she teases, flashing me a knowing smirk. We both laugh, but the moment quickly fades, leaving a thick silence in its place.

After a beat, she asks, "So... are you gonna tell Everest?"

I can feel her gaze flicking toward me, but I keep my eyes trained on the road ahead, letting my head rest against the cool window. A sigh slips from my lips. My body is warm from the alcohol—just enough to make me sluggish—but all I want right now is my bed.

"Tell him what?" I mutter. "So he can freak out, hunt someone down, and end up right back in jail?"

Brooke doesn't press further, and the rest of the ride is quiet.

At some point, Mason texts me—an apology, wondering if I made it home. The message comes in over an hour after I left the bar. Typical.

I always tell myself I want the nice guy—the one who could give me a normal life, the one who would be good for me. But my life isn't normal. It never has been. And the truth is, a guy like Mason would only get hurt in the end. I refuse to carry that weight.

So I send a simple reply: I'm home.

By the time Brooke pulls up in front of my place, it's nearly 1 a.m. I wave her off, step inside, and lock the door behind me. My eyes land on the yellow folder sitting on the kitchen island, and my stomach twists. The lawyer. I completely forgot.

With a groan, I push it from my mind and drag myself to the bathroom, washing up and changing before slipping into bed. If there's one thing I'll never regret upgrading, it's my king-sized mattress. Everest had an eye for the small details—even when he wasn't around. Then again, he is a big guy.

Just as my body relaxes into the cool sheets, my phone vibrates against the nightstand. I groan, flipping it over without looking. But then it goes off again. And again. Ten times in a row.

"What the fuck."

I snatch it up and squint at the screen. Everest.

Twenty unread messages. One after the other.

"I'll be over tomorrow."

"We need to talk."

"You're going to tell me everything."

"I'm done with all this secrecy."

I roll my eyes and shut my phone off entirely, letting the darkness swallow me whole.