LYRA’S POV
The walk to Onyx felt longer than usual. Every step was heavy. My head was a mess of yesterday’s voices. Stripper. Gold-digger. Trash. I tried to shake them off, but they stuck like glue. I hated that I had to go to school again. I hated the looks. I promised myself I wouldn’t care, but I did. It felt so unfair. My whole life, I’ve only ever suffered. Now I was getting punished for surviving.
But I was tired of playing the victim. So I came here. To the one place where I knew what I was. Where the rules were simple.
The back entrance of Onyx was a dark alley. I pushed the heavy door open. The familiar smell hit me—stale beer, cheap perfume, and cleaner. The bass from the main room thumped through the walls.
I didn’t get two steps into the hallway before I saw him.
Jeremy.
