Chapter 149
Just a quick note: Gianna is meant to be an unreliable narrator due to her mental health, so her narration may seem all over the place at times. That’s intentional and part of her character.
Gianna
The air outside Cole Mercer’s pub smelled like wet trash and exhaust, but inside, it was worse. It smelled like stale cigarettes and men who hadn’t showered in days.
I led the way, my shoulders pulled back and my jaw locked so tight it ached. Brianna, Emma, and Jasmine were right behind me. I could hear their fast, shallow breathing. They were terrified, and honestly, so was I, but I couldn’t show it.
Two massive men in greasy leather jackets stood by the door. Their knuckles were scarred, and their eyes were flat and cold as they looked us up and down. One of them reached out, his hand grazing my hip as I passed, and I swiped his arm away with a snarl.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed.
He just laughed, a low, wet sound, and kicked the inner door open.
The pub was lit by the yellow light from the overhead lamps barely cutting through the thick haze of smoke. It was loud, shouting, glass clinking, and a heavy bass beat that made the floorboards shake.
Then I saw her.
Morgan was standing near a long, scarred wooden table in the center of the room. She was wearing a tiny, glittery dress that barely covered her hips, and her legs were shaking. Her black hair was a mess, and her eyes were so swollen and red from crying that she could barely keep them open. She was holding a tray of drinks, her fingers trembling so hard the glasses were rattling.
“Morgan!” Brianna whispered, her voice breaking.
Morgan’s head snapped up. When she saw us, a fresh sob escaped her throat, and a glass slid off her tray, shattering on the floor.

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