“Don’t worry, Holly. You can watch, then you’ll be next,” Zane taunts and the bile I had been holding down since being thrown in the van slowly starts to rise.

“Don’t,” Kadence pleads with him. “You can have me, but please don’t touch her,” she says, giving herself over to him.

“Are you okay?” Sy’s voice pulls me out of my memory as concern fills his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I take a large breath and control my breathing. I haven’t had a panic attack for a week; my first one over Zane in two.

“You’re not,” he accuses like he did back in his bathroom last week.

“I'm fine,” I try again, this time letting my breathing relax me again.

“You do know you have a tell?” he smirks, folding his arms across his chest.

“Shut up, Sy. I’m not in the mood today,” I tell him, not feeling up to faking it. “I have to get ready for work,” I say, walking back out of the kitchen and down to my bedroom—ultimately ending our conversation and making me miss out on my coffee again. Fuck.

“Okay, I’ll wait for you here,” he yells down the hall, not giving up.

Sitting on my bed, I force myself to calm my racing heart. Shit, shit, shit. Every time I see the man, my heart aches. Why does he have to come here and shake my world upside down again?

Forcing myself to work through it, I grab my keys and handbag, and make my way out of the room past Sy who’s now sitting in my favorite chair.

“You ready to go?” he asks, snapping his head up before running his eyes down my body and creating an awareness in me.

“I’m ready to go without you,” I argue, ignoring the tingling sensations that prickle in me at watching him watch me.

“Babe, I already told you, club business.”

“Well, I’m not going to the clubhouse. I’m working in the salon,” I inform him, ignoring his babe comment.

“Didn’t say you had to, but today, you have a tail. Sound good?”

“No, like I said, I’m in the salon today. I don’t want a scary biker dude standing in the corner of my shop looking like a creep.”

“You think I look like a creep?” he questions me, a small amount of amusement in his eyes.

“No, I don’t, but I can’t help but think a tattooed biker in my upmarket salon will look a little creepy.”

“You could come back to the clubhouse, you know, less creepy and all.”

“I have to work,” I say again, not that it would make a difference if I didn’t go in. I’ve been at the new hair salon for a couple of weeks now, and I’m still building a new clientele. I’d probably spend half a day cleaning up the other stylists' mess, or reading a trashy mag in the back room. Even though the environment is a massive change and I miss my old clients, I’m glad no one knows who I am and more importantly, no one knows my past.

“Looks like I’ll be tagging along then.”

“Great.” I force my smile, feeling everything but.

“Don’t look so put out,” he mumbles, standing from the chair and walking forward.

“I didn’t ask for this, remember,” I sneer, watching him move.

“You got no clue what you asked for,” he mutters under his breath, giving his head a quick shake which confuses me more. “You ready?” he asks, now acting pissed. What the hell?

“Yeah,” I reply, still not sure what's going on. I don’t understand why Sy has to be here, and now he seems annoyed about it.

“What’s going on here, Sy?” I ask when we travel down the elevator in silence.

“You tell me, Holly.”

Tell him? God, I wish I could just let it all come out, but I’m just so caught up in my darkness I don’t know how to let anyone in. Not even the one person I should be letting in. And that shames me each day, knowing what I hide from him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sy

I walk close behind her, hoping like fuck I don’t mess this up. I know pushing her right now is not wise, but I’ve sat back for the last three months and I can’t do it anymore. I need to be the one to help her, to pull her out of this funk she’s been living in.

I follow one step behind her as we make the ten-minute walk to the new salon she started working at a couple of weeks ago. It’s only a few blocks further down than her last salon, but I hate that she walks alone. Something we will be talking about later. Her small frame shivers in the brisk air, causing her to rub her small arms to keep warm. I’m not surprised she’s cold. The woman I took in the heat of the moment, those months ago on her living room floor, no longer stands in front of me. I know by looking at her she hasn’t been taking care of herself, but actually watching her, searching past the fake bravado she puts on, I see something else. Something that follows her. It hits me like a freight train, like staring into a mirror and realizing you’re no longer looking at yourself.

“Did you bring a jacket?” I ask, watching her warm herself up.

“I’m okay. We're almost there.” She points up at the shop only a block ahead.

“Didn’t ask if you were okay. Asked if you brought a jacket.”

“I didn’t ask for you to follow me today, and yet you still did, so I guess we both didn’t get what we asked for,” she says, still walking. Fuck, her little attitude gives me some hope that she isn't so lost. I don’t respond. I just reach up and tuck her under my arm to keep her warm.