After half an hour of driving, we finally pull up onto a narrow dirt road. The tires crunch slowly over gravel as we follow the winding path ahead. There are no trees surrounding us—just empty fields stretching for miles in every direction.
I sit up straighter, loosening my grip on Jensen's jacket as I glance around. And then—
I lift my head and my breath catches.
Stars.
Out here, away from the thick trees of the den and the constant shadows of the forest, the sky opens up completely. The stars are so clear, so bright, it's like someone lit a thousand tiny lanterns just for me. I stare up, stunned.
People take this for granted.
I'd give anything to spend one night sleeping beneath those stars.
But it's dangerous out here after dark.
And Lee thinks it's a stupid idea.
I'm not brave enough to do it alone. So I never have. Not really. Not like this.
A strange sense of peace fills my chest as I watch one especially bright star blink at me.
I see you, little star.
I'm so caught up in the moment I don't even realize we've stopped until Jensen turns off the bike and swings his leg over. Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away from the sky and hop off, pulling off the helmet.
"I want a bike one day," I tell him, breathless.
"Oh yeah?" he asks, giving me a sidelong glance. "What kind?"
"Mmm…" I tap my chin, thinking. "I like yours."
"Mine is cool," he agrees. "But if I had to choose, I'd love to get my hands on a 1987 Suzuki."
"Why don't you get one?" I ask, genuinely confused.
He gives a half-smile. "They're not exactly easy to find, kid. But if one ever pops up—I'm buying it."
"Well," I say, stepping in front of him, "if I ever see one first, I'll buy it and give it to you. Looks like I owe you now anyway."
I tease him with a grin as I push the loose strands of hair out of my face. Holding out the helmet, I notice his gaze fix on me—something unreadable flickering in his expression.
Frowning, I cross my arms. "Hey. Are you okay?"
Whatever was on his face disappears fast. He mirrors me, arms crossing. "Did you get the phone?"
Instead of answering, I glance away, my attention stolen by the house in front of us.
Well—house might be generous.
It's not what I expected. Not at all.
A one-story building made mostly of glass glows softly under cream-colored lights. White siding, gray steps, and a dark mahogany door. It looks more like something from a magazine than a place people actually live.
But it's the swing that gets me.
Off to the side, facing the open field and star-filled sky, is a small wooden swing that sways gently in the breeze. My heart thuds.
"Wow." I breathe. "This is where you live?"
Jensen nods. "Yeah. Remember those friends I introduced you to?"
I nod again.
"They live here too. It's ours—not just mine."
"It's amazing," I admit, still gazing toward the swing.
"I suppose. Come on," he says. "Let's get you inside and find Lee."
The mention of Lee brings heat to my face. Right. That's why I'm even here.
"I don't want to talk to him right now," I mumble, crossing my arms and stomping my foot. Childish, but I don't care. Lee deserves it.
Jensen lets out a breath, and I catch him glancing toward the sky again before speaking.
"It's freezing out here," he says. "And besides, he's probably wasted. The guys are drinking, and your friend seems to… like a party."
My stomach drops. My arms fall limply to my sides.
"He is?"
Jensen turns fully to face me. His brows draw together when he hears the change in my voice.
"You don't like your friend drinking that much, do you?" he says, voice low.
"Not really," I admit. Understatement of the century.
Our last fight was literally about this. Him drinking. Him leaving me behind.
"Okay," Jensen says after a pause. "Let's go inside, grab him, and I'll give you a ride home. I'm guessing you don't know where we are."
"No clue," I mutter.
Jensen steps closer and takes my hand. He gives it a gentle squeeze.
Then his eyes flick down to my arm—where Lee had grabbed me earlier.
"Your friend," Jensen says, voice quieter now. "Does he always grab you like that?"
I hesitate. Then, finally, I speak.
"No… not always. But lately he's been drinking more. We've been arguing a lot, and… yeah, he's grabbed me a few times. But—" I meet Jensen's eyes. "He's never hurt me. Lee is… he's my everything. And I'm his. We'd never hurt each other."
Jensen studies me for a long beat. Looking for lies.
But there aren't any.
Finally, he nods. "Okay."
Then he tugs on my hand and leads me up the steps toward the door.
Jensen twists the handle and opens the door, tugging me gently inside before letting go of my hand and closing it behind us.
The first thing I notice is the warmth. The second is how freaking beautiful this place is.
White walls and black flooring stretch out into an open-plan layout that shows every room. There are no doors. Just clean, open space and long windows covered with sleek blinds. It looks modern, sharp—like something out of a movie.
"This is amazing," I blurt out.
Jensen chuckles, stepping beside me. "You should see it tomorrow after the guys finish partying."
I laugh a little and glance around again. "If everyone's partying, where are they?"
I don't see a single soul. No music. No shouting. No bodies draped on couches. Nothing.
And even though I said I trusted Jensen—I do, mostly—my nerves spike. Something inside me prickles, warning me to stay alert. It's a habit. A defense.
I cross my arms and tilt my head. "What's wrong?" Jensen asks, catching the shift in my energy.
"Nothing," I lie, too fast.
His brow arches. "You're not a very good liar, kid."
"I'm not lying—" But I trail off because the look he gives me says he's not buying a word.
I groan and throw my arms up. "Fine. I don't trust people, okay? And I know you haven't done anything, but—"
"I get it, kid," he says, cutting me off gently. "I'm not exactly the trusting type either."
A silence falls between us. Not uncomfortable. Just real.
Then, suddenly—
"Jensen, you back, man?" a voice yells from down the hallway.
I flinch, startled, and step back without meaning to—straight into Jensen's chest. His hand instinctively finds my shoulder to steady me.
"Shit, man," he mutters toward the voice. "Some warning next time."
A guy appears, strolling casually toward us. He's tall, tan, grinning like he owns the room.
"Hi, I'm Ryan," he says smoothly, eyes raking over me. "And who are you?"
I try to step back again, but Jensen doesn't move—he slides me protectively into his side, his glare sharp.
"Fuck off, Ryan. She's only fifteen," Jensen snaps.
Ryan's grin vanishes. His eyes go wide.
"Shit. I didn't know," he blurts, backing up quickly. "Sorry, kid."
Then he vanishes like a ghost—gone as fast as he showed up.
"You have some weird friends," I say flatly.
"You're telling me," Jensen mutters. "Let's go get your friend."
I nod, following him down a hallway lined with closed doors. He stops at one, opens it, and gestures for me to go first. I step inside and follow him down a narrow set of stairs. The noise grows louder as we descend—bass thumping, people talking, glasses clinking.
Definitely a party.
At the bottom, Jensen opens another door and we step inside. My jaw drops.
It's not a room. It's a full-on club.
A bar stretches across one wall, shelves stocked with liquor behind it. Barstools line the counter, occupied by laughing, drinking adults. Two massive leather couches sprawl across the other wall, packed with people. Colored lights flash overhead, casting the whole place in a pulsing, moody glow.
And in the far corner—
Lee.
He's kissing a girl.
Gross.
I wrinkle my nose and look away, only to realize Jensen's eyes are on me.
"Can I wait upstairs?" I ask quietly. "Can you get Lee for me? This isn't really my scene…"
My voice shakes, despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
Jensen studies me carefully. "No one here is going to hurt you, Adria. I promise, okay?"
I bite my lip, heart pounding. I don't like this—not the noise, not the crowd, not the older people drinking and grinding and pretending like the world outside doesn't exist.
Jensen leans closer, voice low. "Let me introduce you to everyone. If anyone makes you uncomfortable, I'll take you home. Right away."
And there it is again. That thing he does with his eyes.
I nod, unable to say no.
He grins and threads his fingers through mine.
He leads me toward a round table I hadn't noticed when I first walked in—tucked in the shadows, surrounded by high-backed chairs. I squeeze his hand tighter and he squeezes back.
Somehow… he gets it. He gets me.
We reach the table, and Jensen gestures to two empty seats. I sit, tucking my hands in my lap.
"Guys," he says loud enough for everyone to hear. "This is Adria. She's fifteen, and she's a friend—so show some respect."
He turns to me, softer now. "Adria, unfortunately, these are my friends."
Laughter greets his sarcasm.
"Hey, sweetheart," says a huge guy with a beard and hair as long as mine. "I'm Derek."
"Hi," I reply, nerves fluttering in my chest.
One by one, everyone introduces themselves. There's Brandy, who leans across the table with a warm smile, and a couple others whose names I barely catch.
And then Sam.
"Still jailbait, bro," he mutters, dragging a chair out and plopping down with his beer.
I frown. "Why do you keep calling me that?"
He shrugs. "Because I don't want to go to jail."
I arch a brow. "Is it what I do? Are you scared I'm gonna get you in trouble with the police?"
A beat of silence. Then Derek bursts into laughter, and soon the whole table follows. I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling now.
Maybe these guys aren't so bad.
Laughter rolls around the table. Brandy hands me a soda, and for the first time in forever, I don't feel like a ghost sitting at someone else's party. I feel… included.
"It's annoying you didn't get that phone tonight," Jensen says, casually sipping his beer. "He's probably gonna be more careful now."
I blink, pulled out of my thoughts.
"Sorry, what?"
"The phone," he repeats. "It's a shame you never managed to grab it."
I smirk, drumming my fingers on the table. "Who said I didn't?"
His beer halts halfway to his lips. Slowly, he lowers it and stares at me, brows raised. "No way."
I roll my eyes and reach into my jacket. I fish out a sleek black smartphone and hold it up. Everyone at the table falls silent.
"You're kidding," Jensen says, voice low.
"What?" I shrug. "You didn't believe me?"
Sam leans forward, mouth open. "How the fuck did you get that? You bumped into the guy for like—what—five seconds?"
I shrug again, a grin teasing my lips. "Guess I'm good."
"Oh, and…" I pull out the guy's wallet and a silver watch. "I took these too."
Silence. Absolute, stunned silence.
Then Sam throws his head back and lets out a loud, wild laugh. It sets off the rest of them—everyone's hooting, hollering, clapping me on the back like I just won some kind of contest.
Except Jensen.
He's still looking at me. Eyes steady. There's something new in them—something between surprise and… admiration?
My cheeks go warm. I glance away.
"Yeah," I mumble, "wasn't that hard."
I hold the phone and wallet out toward Jensen. But not the watch. That's mine now.
He doesn't rush to grab it. Instead, he gently takes it and hands it over to a guy I vaguely remember being introduced as Jax.
"You're something else, kid," Jax says, shaking his head with a grin as he walks away.
Before I can even reply—
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
Lee's voice slices through the air like a blade. I flinch and turn toward him, scowling at the scene he's already causing.
He storms up to the table and grabs my bicep, yanking me up so fast I nearly fall into him.
"We're going home. Now."
"Lee—" I start, but his eyes… they're wild. Bloodshot. Unfocused. There's something in them that hits me in the gut.
Fear.
"Lee?" I try again, quieter this time. "Are you okay?"
But he doesn't get a chance to answer.
Suddenly, I'm pulled back. Someone catches me, shielding me from him.
Jensen.
"This is your last warning, boy," he says coldly, stepping between us. "Don't touch her like that again."
His voice is low and lethal, and it makes the room fall silent.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Lee snarls. "Adria's mine. Why the fuck are you even around her? She's fifteen!"
"I'm going to ignore what you just implied," Jensen says tightly, "but say one more word like that and I'll knock your teeth down your throat."
The tension between them crackles like lightning in the air. Lee steps forward, chest heaving.
"Call me 'boy' again," he growls, "and I'll break your fucking face."
Sam grips my shoulders, keeping me back, but I wriggle out of his hold and dart forward, sliding between them.
"Lee, please," I whisper, placing a hand on his arm. "Can we just go?"
He's trembling with anger, his face twisted in something between betrayal and desperation.
"I'm your fucking friend," he spits, his voice cracking. "Me. Not him. So pick. Right now, Adria. Me or him."
I freeze.
"Lee…" My voice is soft, pleading. "I'm not leaving you. Jensen's just a friend—"
"Then prove it." His tone sharpens. "Pick me. Cut him off. Or I leave. For good."
My chest aches. My throat tightens. This isn't fair. Friends don't do this. Jensen never asked me to pick.
"You know who I pick, Lee," I whisper.
Relief flickers across his face—for a second. But then he turns his gaze behind me, lips curling into a smug, poisonous smirk.
"And that, right there," he says, loud and cutting, "is why she's mine. Not yours."
I don't look back. I don't need to. I know Jensen's there, watching. I feel it like a pressure in the air.
Lee tugs my wrist, pulling me toward the door. "Now, Adria."
"We can't walk," I try to argue, my voice small. "It's miles—"
"I don't give a fuck. Move it."
He drags me through the house, past the stares, up the steps, and out the door into the night.
When we reach the steps outside, I yank my hand out of his grip.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snap. "You embarrassed me in there, Lee!"
He spins on me, eyes wild. "What the hell is wrong with you? I told you to stay away from him! You were supposed to go home!"
"He brought me here to get you! I'm not doing anything wrong, he's my friend—"
"I'M your friend!" he screams.
I flinch.
"Me. Not him. You don't need anyone else. Just me. So pick. Him or me."
He's breathing hard. His fists clenched.
I realize then—he's not just angry. He's terrified.
"Lee," I say gently, "no one's taking me away from you."
"Then don't talk to him again," he says harshly. "Or I'm gone."
My heart cracks. But I nod.
His body relaxes slightly, and he glances over my shoulder with that smug smirk again.
"And again that's why she's mine," he says coldly. "Not yours."
He doesn't even wait for me to catch up—he turns and storms down the road.
I start to follow, but a shadow moves beside me. Jensen. Sam too.
"You don't have to go with him," Jensen says, voice low. "He shouldn't talk to you like that."
I look at the ground. "It's not always like this."
He doesn't respond.
I step around them, forcing myself to keep walking. I glance back one last time.
Jensen's eyes are still on me. Blue. Sad.
"See you around, mister," I whisper with a small smile.
Then I turn and walk away—leaving behind what could've been something good.