The sunlight creeps through the blinds, searing into my eyelids like a thousand tiny needles. My head pounds relentlessly, the sound of my heartbeat echoing in my skull. I groan, pressing my hands to my face as I try to piece together the events of last night.

The first thing I notice is the ache in my body—like I've been hit by a freight train. My mouth feels like sandpaper, and I know without opening my eyes that I'm in no condition to face the world.

I try to sit up, but everything spins. I immediately fall back onto the couch with a groan, pulling the blanket tighter around me like a shield. The quiet hum of the house only makes the pounding in my head worse. I take a deep breath, hoping the air will clear the fog, but it doesn't.

I remember the club, the drinks, the spinning, Everest's arm around me, pulling me through the night... and then... everything goes fuzzy. Did I really puke on his shoes? I can't even remember if I apologized properly.

The memory hits like a punch to the gut, and I feel myself wince. He must be so annoyed with me. I bet he's already regretting all the times he tried to help me, probably kicking himself for even caring.

I try to sit up again, slower this time, and finally force my eyes open. The room is dim, the only light coming from the window as it slices through the space in pale, golden beams. I glance around, spotting my phone on the coffee table, and groggily reach for it, hoping to make sense of this mess.

Two missed texts. Bonnie and Tequila both checking in on me—apparently, they were worried. I squint at the screen, trying to focus on the words. A small part of me feels guilty for not responding last night, but the larger part of me just wants to crawl back under the blanket and forget about everything.

I hear movement from the other room—footsteps, a door opening. My stomach lurches again, and I curse under my breath.

I know it's Everest before I even see him. He's the only person who'd be up this early, probably making coffee or some kind of breakfast to try and make me feel better.

"Morning, sunshine," he calls from the kitchen, his voice tinged with amusement. "How's the hangover treating you?"

I close my eyes for a moment, bracing myself for the inevitable. "Awful," I croak, my voice hoarse. "Did I really puke on your shoes last night?"

There's a brief silence, and I can almost feel his smirk. "Yeah, you did," he says casually, like it's no big deal.

I wince, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," I mumble, still not quite able to wrap my head around how stupid I must've looked.

He walks into the room, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, his grin still in place. "Don't worry about it, Avery. It's fine. But you need to drink some water, or you're gonna feel like this all day."

I nod, too tired to argue, but my stomach isn't thrilled with the idea. "I'll try," I mutter.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You better. I'll get you something to eat, too. You're gonna need it."

I nod again, finally dragging myself into a sitting position, my head still spinning. As Everest disappears back into the kitchen, I lean back against the couch, closing my eyes once more.

Everest comes back a few minutes later with a glass of water and a plate of toast, setting them down on the coffee table in front of me. "Drink the water, eat the toast, and I'll be back soon," he says with a soft, almost protective tone. "I've got some club business to handle, but I'll check in later."

I nod, too tired to protest or argue. "Thanks," I mumble, reaching for the water and slowly sipping it, trying to calm the storm in my stomach. As much as I want to just curl up and hide under the blanket, I know I need to pull myself together. There's no escaping this mess, especially if I plan to make it through the rest of the day without feeling completely useless.

Everest leaves the house, the sound of his motorcycle engine rumbling as he pulls away, and I'm left with a moment of quiet. It's just me, the mess in my head, and the weight of everything I've been avoiding.

I push myself off the couch, swaying slightly as I head toward the bathroom. I glance at my reflection in the mirror, cringing at the sight of my disheveled hair and pale face. "You look like a hot mess," I mutter to myself, but I can't help but laugh softly. It's the truth, after all.

I pull my hair into a messy bun and start the shower, hoping that the hot water will help wake me up and clear my mind. As I step in, the steam and warmth feel good against my skin, but the headache still lingers, gnawing at the back of my head.

Just as I'm rinsing the shampoo out of my hair, my phone buzzes from the bathroom counter. I quickly step out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel and grabbing my phone, noticing it's a text from Tequila.

Tequila: "Hey girl, you good? I was wondering if you could help me out—could you watch Jasmin for a bit? I'm stuck at work and she's been asking about you."

I smile a little at the thought of Jasmin. She's always such a breath of fresh air, so full of energy and sweetness. I quickly text back, my fingers fumbling slightly with the phone.

Me: "Yeah, I can watch her. Just give me a little bit to get ready."

Once I send the text, I make my way back to my bedroom, the water droplets dripping down my legs as I pull on a pair of comfortable leggings and a loose shirt. It's not much, but at least it's something.

I open the door, and Jasmin steps in, looking exactly like a typical 16-year-old. Her hoodie is oversized, and she's got her phone in hand, scrolling through whatever latest TikTok videos or messages are on there.

"Hey, Avery!" she says, her voice full of energy, even though she's clearly still wrapped up in whatever she's watching on her phone.

"Hey, Jasmin," I mutter, half-squinting as I try to shake off the lingering fog from last night. My head is still pounding, and I can barely focus, but I'm too hungover to care about much else.

She looks up from her phone briefly, nodding in acknowledgment, and then back down again. "Tequila said I get to hang out with you today!" she says, her words a little distracted, still scrolling through her feed.

I half-smile, stepping aside to let her in. "Sure, why not. We can do something."

She walks past me without really acknowledging anything else, like she's more interested in whatever's on her phone than anything going on around her. It's typical for a 16-year-old, I guess. Her constant connection to the digital world makes me feel even more tired, but I push it aside. I'm trying to keep it together.

A minute later, she glances up briefly, eyes still on her screen. "Hey, Avery, you think we could hit up Starbucks? I'm kinda craving a caramel frappuccino." Her voice is almost absent, completely absorbed in whatever's flashing across her phone.

Internally, I groan. Starbucks? Really? But I don't have the energy to argue or even suggest something simpler. I'm hungover, I can barely keep my eyes open, and all I want to do is sit down for a second. But I can't let her down, so I let out a deep sigh and nod.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." I mutter, already heading for the closet to find some sweats. I don't even care what I look like right now. I grab the first thing I can find—loose sweatpants and an oversized hoodie.

I grab my Ray-Bans, not because I need them but because I know they'll cover up the fact that I feel like I've been run over by a truck. Reaching for the keys to Everest's truck, I slide them into my pocket. It's the only vehicle that's parked outside, and frankly, I don't feel like walking to my car.

I turn back to Jasmin, who hasn't even noticed that I'm ready to go. She's still glued to her phone, the world completely passing her by.

"Alright, let's go," I say, my voice barely above a mumble.

She doesn't look up, but she nods absently. "Cool."

I roll my eyes and head out the door, barely holding it together, but just enough to get through this. Starbucks is calling. Well, that and the caffeine I need to survive today.

I stand in line at Starbucks, staring blankly at the menu above the counter, already regretting leaving the house. The place is packed with people talking and laughing, and I can't help but feel like the world is spinning faster than I can keep up with. My head still feels like it's stuffed with cotton, and every little noise is too much. I want nothing more than to turn around and leave, but I'm stuck. Jasmin's already at the counter, practically drooling over her options, while I'm just trying not to look too miserable.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, checking for messages. I quickly send Everest a text, letting him know where I am. "Starbucks with Jasmin."

I lean against the counter, waiting for my turn, trying to distract myself by scrolling through my phone. My new hair feels like a shield, like a barrier between me and the world. It's not like anyone's going to look for me now with the black hair and bangs, not the blonde, carefree version they probably remember.

I sigh, feeling a little more anonymous. Maybe that's the point. A little change, a fresh start, even if it's just on the outside. I don't know what I'm trying to prove, but for now, I guess it's enough.

Jasmin's busy chatting with the barista now, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside me. I glance up, catching a glimpse of my reflection in the glass, still not used to this new me.

"Mary Ann!" The barista calls out, and for some reason, that name hits me like a slap. It sounds so... oddly familiar, though I can't put my finger on why.

I'm sitting at the table now, trying to ignore the pounding in my head while sipping on my iced coffee, but that name keeps echoing in the back of my mind. Curiosity gets the best of me. I lift my Ray-Bans and push them up onto my head, casually glancing toward the counter.

That's when I see her.

A scrawny woman with ripped skinny jeans and a worn leather jacket walks up to grab her drink. Her long, graying brunette hair cascades down her back, giving her an effortlessly cool but tired look. She's got this air about her—like someone who's been through hell and back and still manages to keep standing.

I can't shake the feeling that I know her from somewhere, but I don't want to let my mind wander too far. Not today.

"Who's that?" Jasmin's voice breaks through my thoughts, her eyes barely glancing up from her phone as she notices me staring.

"Oh, uh..." I blink a few times, shaking off whatever weird feeling was creeping up on me. "I don't know. I'm just staring into space." I force a small, dismissive smile and take another sip of my coffee, hoping to distract myself.

Jasmin doesn't ask again. She just shrugs, her attention already back on her screen, her thumbs tapping away like nothing ever happened.

But I can't stop thinking about it. Something about that woman... about Mary Ann... feels like a memory I can't quite reach. And for some reason, it leaves a chill running down my spine.

"Ready to go?" I ask Jasmin, who doesn't look up from her phone but gives a small nod.

"Yeah. I guess." She mumbles, sliding out of the booth while still scrolling.

I grab my keys and toss the empty cups into the trash, my body moving on autopilot as we head toward the door. The warm afternoon sun hits me as we step outside, but it doesn't do much to shake the weird feeling that's settled in my chest. I glance around the parking lot, trying to clear my head, but my thoughts are too tangled.

Jasmin's already walking ahead toward the truck, still glued to her phone, leaving me trailing behind. I'm halfway across the lot when it happens.

I bump straight into someone, my shoulder catching theirs hard enough to make me stumble back a step.

"Shit, sorry—" I start, but the words get caught in my throat when I look up.

It's her.

Mary Ann.

Up close, she looks even more familiar. Her weathered face is marked with lines that tell stories I don't know, and her eyes... they feel like they're looking right through me. There's something in them that makes my stomach twist—a quiet recognition that I can't explain.

"It's alright," she murmurs, her voice low but firm, almost like she's studying me as much as I'm studying her. Her drink is still in her hand, the condensation dripping down the sides, but she doesn't seem to care.

I can't move. I just stand there, staring, my mind racing to piece together why she feels so... important.

"Do I... know you?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Mary Ann's lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Maybe," she says softly, her gaze never leaving mine. "Or maybe it's been too long."

A chill runs down my spine, and suddenly, I feel like I'm standing on unstable ground.

"Come on, Avery!" Jasmin calls from the truck, her voice pulling me out of the strange moment.

I blink, breaking eye contact with Mary Ann. "Yeah," I murmur, backing away slowly.

But even as I make my way to the truck, I can still feel her eyes on me, and that feeling in my gut tells me—this isn't over. Not by a long shot.

The ride home is quiet, except for the faint hum of the engine and the occasional ping from Jasmin's phone. I can feel the dull pounding in my head getting worse, the aftermath of last night still refusing to let go. Every bump in the road feels like it's rattling through my skull. I grip the steering wheel tighter, just wanting to get home and crawl back into bed.

"Tequila's back at the club," Jasmin says suddenly, breaking the silence. Her eyes don't leave her phone, but her tone is casual, like it's not a big deal.

I glance over, a little confused. "Already? I thought she was supposed to be out of town for a few more days."

"She got back this morning," Jasmin shrugs, still scrolling. "Said she didn't want to miss anything. And..." Her lips curl into a small smirk. "I kinda wanna go back to the club."

"Seriously?" I groan, rubbing my temple. "Jas, I'm dying over here. Last night was brutal."

"Come on, Ave," she says, finally glancing up from her phone. "I'm bored, and Tequila said there's some stuff going down tonight. Besides, it's not like you have to drink. Just... hang out or whatever."

I sigh, feeling my resolve crumbling. As much as I'd rather spend the rest of the day curled up in bed nursing this hangover, I know Jasmin won't let this go. And part of me—against all logic—doesn't hate the idea of seeing Everest again.

"Fine," I mutter, pulling into the driveway and cutting the engine.

Jasmin hops out, practically buzzing with excitement. I, on the other hand, feel like death warmed over. My hair is still damp from the shower, and my Ray-Bans are back on, shielding my tired eyes from the bright lights of the lot.

As soon as I step inside, the familiar haze of smoke and liquor hits me. The crowd is already thick, the usual mix of bikers and hang-arounds filling the space.

And then, I spot him.

Everest—Sin—leaning against the bar, his arms crossed, watching the room like he owns the place. His expression is unreadable, but the moment his eyes land on me, I can feel the shift. Even through the pounding in my head, my pulse kicks up.

"Look who decided to drag her ass back here," his voice is low and playful as I get closer, but there's an edge to it that I can't quite place.

"Don't start," I mumble, still hiding behind my shades. "I'm barely holding it together right now."

Everest smirks, pushing off the bar and closing the distance between us. "Hungover, huh?" His eyes skim over me, taking in the effort I barely put into my appearance.

"You have no idea," I groan, pressing my fingers against my temples.

I didn't have to look too closely to know Everest was definitely a few drinks in. It was the way his shoulders seemed more relaxed, the slight sway in his stance, and that easy, carefree smirk that tugged at his lips. His usual edge was softer, his guard down just enough that I could tell the whiskey had worked its magic.

"Didn't think I'd see you back here so soon," he murmured, his eyes flicking over me like he was trying to read my mind. The way he stood there, calm and collected, like he didn't have a care in the world, made my stomach flip.

"Yeah, well," I shrugged, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in my voice. "Jasmin dragged me here, and I wasn't in the mood to argue."

"Mhmm." His lips curved into that cocky grin I knew all too well. "I think you just missed me, sweetheart."

"Don't flatter yourself," I shot back, but my voice lacked the bite I was aiming for. I was still feeling the effects of last night, my head pounding and my body sluggish, definitely not on the same level as him.

"Come on," he murmured, brushing his knuckles lightly down my arm, sending a jolt through me. "Let's get outta here for a minute."

I barely had time to process his words before he was leading me toward the back, his hand warm and steady against the small of my back. I let him guide me through the crowd, my body moving on autopilot. Before I knew it, we were in Ghost's office—dimly lit and quiet, the chaos of the club muffled by the thick walls.

"Why here?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as the door clicked shut behind us. The air felt heavier in the confined space, my senses suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was.

"Because," Everest murmured, stepping toward me with that same lazy confidence, his eyes darkening as they met mine. "I didn't feel like sharing."

My back hit the desk as he closed the distance between us, his hands bracketing either side of me. The tension that had been building between us all night snapped like a rubber band. His lips were on mine before I could even think, the kiss hard and demanding, sending a jolt of heat straight through me.

I melted against him, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pulled him closer. His body pressed firmly against mine, and any lingering hangover was quickly forgotten.

"Missed this," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough and filled with something that made my pulse race.

I didn't have the words to respond—my body did all the talking. I pulled him even closer, my heart pounding as I lost myself in him, completely forgetting where we were.

Everest's lips were on mine again, more urgent this time, as if he'd been holding back and finally let the floodgates open. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I could feel just how much he wanted me. The heat between us was scorching, making it impossible to think straight.

"You're mine, Avery," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough with need. "Always have been."

The possessiveness in his tone sent a shiver down my spine. My hands slid up his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as I pulled him closer, needing more. "Then prove it," I whispered, barely able to get the words out before his mouth was on mine again.

He lifted me effortlessly, setting me on the edge of Ghost's desk. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer as his hands ran down my sides, sending sparks through my veins. His lips left mine and trailed down my jaw, to that sensitive spot on my neck that made me gasp.

"Damn, you feel so good," he growled, his teeth grazing my skin just enough to make me arch into him. His hands slid beneath my shirt, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of fire as they explored my skin.

I tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel him against me. "Off," I murmured, my voice breathless.

"Patience, sweetheart," he teased, though his hands were already helping me push it up and over his head. My eyes drank him in—the broad chest, the ink that stretched across his skin, and the hunger in his gaze that was entirely focused on me.

"Yours," I murmured, my fingertips trailing down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath my touch. "I'm yours."

"Damn right you are." His lips crashed back into mine, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me to the very edge of the desk. "And I'm gonna remind you just how much."

His hands slid down, tugging my sweatpants down my legs, and I helped him kick them off, not caring where they landed. His touch was everywhere, igniting every nerve in my body as he worshipped me like I was the only thing that mattered.

"You've been driving me crazy all night," he murmured, his lips brushing against my skin as he worked his way back up to my mouth. "Lookin' so damn good, but you're mine, Avery. No one else gets to see this side of you."

"Only you," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "Only ever you."

His eyes met mine, the intensity in them making my breath hitch. "Good," he murmured, a wicked smirk tugging at the corners of his lips before he kissed me again—deeper, slower, as if he was savoring every second.

I was lost in him, completely consumed by the way he touched me, kissed me, claimed me. His hands slid down my thighs, parting them even more as his body pressed closer. The friction between us was electric, and I couldn't help but moan against his lips.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he whispered, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing ragged.

"You," I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper. "I want you, Sin."

A low growl rumbled from his chest, and in one smooth motion, he lifted me off the desk, carrying me effortlessly toward the couch in the corner of the office. He laid me down gently, his body hovering over mine as his lips trailed down my neck, sending shivers through me.

"I'm gonna take my time with you," he murmured against my skin. "Make sure you remember exactly who you belong to."

"Sin..." I whispered, my fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed his way down, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

"Say it again," he demanded softly, his lips brushing just above the waistband of my panties, his eyes locked on mine.

"Sin," I breathed, my body arching toward him, needing more.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice full of satisfaction before his lips met mine just not the lips attached to my face, and this time, there was no holding back.

The world outside faded away. It was just us—two souls colliding, tangled in a mess of passion, heat, and unspoken promises. And in that moment, I knew... I was exactly where I was supposed to be. With him. Always.