"COME ON, BITCHES!" Sarah shouts.

We pile out of the van, heels clicking against the pavement as we approach the club's entrance. Two burly men guard the gate, their expressions shifting to something akin to amusement—or perhaps opportunity—as their eyes sweep over us. They exchange a glance before settling their focus on me.

Sarah and Brooke step up beside me, flanking me like a well-rehearsed routine.

"Hey, boys," Sarah purrs, her voice dripping with flirtation.

The older of the two, a grizzled man with a long gray beard and a beer belly, smirks but shakes his head. "Sorry, ladies. As much as we'd love to let you in, it's a private party tonight."

Brooke steps forward, placing a delicate hand on his chest. "We're here for the birthday party," she nearly whispers, her voice a silky promise. "We were invited."

These girls know exactly how to play a man.

The younger guard, a bit more hesitant, steps up. "We've got orders," he says, glancing at his companion for confirmation.

My palms are slick with sweat. Whether it's the nerves or the alcohol buzzing through my veins, I can't be sure. I step forward, determined to say something—anything—when suddenly, a voice from behind shouts, "This is Avery King! She invited us!"

My stomach drops. My name hangs in the air, and both guards immediately turn their attention to me.

I swallow hard. "Um... y-yeah. Hi." I force a smile. "Actually, Sin told me to come." My words are anything but convincing.

The older guard stiffens. "Sin?"

We all nod in unison.

After a beat, the two men share another look before finally motioning for the gate to open.

Brooke grips my hand, and we make our way down the dirt road, passing the looming metal garage and the scattered mobile homes. The further we walk, the deeper we disappear into the woods, our breath hitching as we climb the wooden deck.

We had to leave the bus behind. Driving up here would've set off alarms—and probably gotten us killed.

"Ready, girls?" Sarah asks, then slams the door open.

The moment we step inside, the music swallows us whole. The place is packed, bodies pressed together in a haze of cigarette smoke and neon lights. No one even notices us enter—we blend right in, just another set of club girls lost in the chaos.

I barely blink, and suddenly, everyone is gone.

Including Brooke.

I roll my eyes, exhaling sharply. I wander through the crowd, my mind drifting to the past. It's strange being back here—I practically grew up in this place.

Not sure if you know this, but Everest, Austin, and I were inseparable as kids. I was just a little girl when I attended their father's funeral.

Not that he was ever around. The boys were always with their mom—until their dad died. Then she left too. Gary took them in after that, became their father. He was the club's president back then. Maybe still is. Hell if I know.

Everest knew the truth, though. He knew Gary wasn't his real father. He knew his mom abandoned them. He knew exactly where his life was headed.

I don't blame him for becoming who he is now.

But it's still sad.

"Hey, gorgeous."

A warm grip lands on my hips, and my body stiffens.

I recognize the voice instantly.

A slow, wicked smile curls onto my lips. Poor Austin. He has no idea.

I press my hips back against him, grinding slightly before spinning around—fast enough that he doesn't catch a glimpse of my face.

We start to dance, my head tucked against his neck.

"And what exactly are you planning to do with me?" I murmur, my voice teasing.

Before he can respond, I cut him off.

"Austin."

He freezes. His entire body tenses. Then, he yanks away, eyes wide with shock.

"NO. FUCKING. WAY!"

The next second, I'm engulfed in a bone-crushing hug.

"I—I can't breathe!" I squeak out, laughing as he finally releases me.

His gaze rakes over me in disbelief. "Is this real? Is this really you? Avery King?"

I nod, grinning.

"Do you even know how much I've missed you? Ev turned into a fucking asshole when he got out five years ago!" Austin shakes his head, still grinning like an idiot.

"I missed you too, Austin," I say, and I mean it.

He was always the one person who could make everything feel lighter.

Then, weirdly, he touches my hair. His fingers graze the ends, his mouth slightly agape.

"Your hair?" he gasps.

"Uh... yeah?" I swat his hand away.

Without warning, he grabs my wrist and drags me toward the bar, shoving people aside as we go.

"FOUR SHOTS OF CROWN EACH!" he hollers over the music.

The bartender turns around—and immediately drops one of the shot glasses.

"No way!" She gawks. "Bonnie, get your ass over here!"

Tequila looks like she's about to have a stroke.

Bonnie rushes over, eyes going wide. "Your fucking hair!"

I haven't seen this girl in eight years—and that's the first thing she says?

Tequila smirks. "This round's on me! We're all taking shots—our baby is home!"

The burn of Crown Royal slides down my throat. One. Then another. And another.

We laugh, we drink, we catch up. The night blurs together.

Then Brooke finds me.

"Come on!" she shouts over the music. "Your song is on!"

We exchange grins before turning to Austin.

"Austin," she acknowledges.

"Brooke," he replies, smirking.

Sarah suddenly stumbles in, clinging to Austin like her life depends on it. "Baby, I've been looking for you all night," she slurs.

Austin shoots me a knowing look—one that says, 'I'll see you later. My pussy just arrived.'

I roll my eyes as he disappears upstairs, Sarah clinging to his side.

Brooke stares after them, her expression unreadable.

I grab her hand, snapping her out of it. "Come on."

We push through the crowd and make our way to the center of the dance floor.

The moment the beat drops, we move as if we're performing a private show. Hips swaying, bodies teasing, hands trailing. We know everyone is watching.

Jealousy burns in the eyes of the other girls. Lust clouds the stares of the men.

When the song ends, we collapse into laughter, stumbling back toward the bar for more shots.

We keep going. And going. And going.

By the time I stand up, the world tilts violently.

I don't even know what time it is. I just know that when I try to walk, I collapse—smacking my head against the floor.

The room spins. The music blares. No one notices.

I force myself up and stumble toward the door, heels dangling from my fingers. The cold night air slaps against my skin, but I barely feel it.

Then I see it.

The garage.

The big metal garage.

Memories stir, tangled with alcohol and exhaustion.

I push open the heavy door, flicking on the lights.

Bikes. Rows of them. The smell of oil and leather fills my lungs.

My fingers trail over the worn leather seat of my bike.

Just as I'm about to climb on, a noise stops me.

Moaning.

I turn toward the sound and walking out of the garage.

Then I see them.

Everest.

Pinned between the legs of a blonde, her back pressed against the cold cement wall.

I stagger backward, nausea curling in my gut.

I trip. My pulse pounds. My head spins.

Then—

Cold.

Water.

Darkness.

And silence.

Drown

Overwhelmed by a sea of emotions

Sometimes you have to drown

To learn how to swim.