Bound by power and desire

Chapter 1

Exhaustion had a death grip on me. So much so that the small flicker of relief from the new suspect couldn't even pierce through. The case wasn't solved, but at least we weren't at a dead end anymore.

I stepped out of the car, and the world seemed to rot right along with me.

The streetlights hummed overhead, casting sickly orange pools across the pavement. I stood there for a moment, eyes closed, breathing in the familiar scent of damp concrete and distant exhaust. Then I retrieved the snack box from the passenger seat, a deli sandwich I'd bought hours ago, long gone cold.

The last time I saw Adrian was over a week ago.

I pulled out my phone. Still nothing. No reply to the message I'd sent three days ago. For the past two months, that had become the norm, sometimes he answered two days late, sometimes he never even read them. I called him. It went straight to voicemail.

Whatever, I told myself. He'll just see me.

All I wanted was a plate of pasta, a cold glass of juice, and perhaps kisses and cuddles. I yearned for the days we used to cook together, sometimes it ended in disaster, sometimes it was edible. Back when he looked at me like I was the only woman in the world.

My work had pushed us apart. Or was it just me? Even the dates I'd planned lately, he'd ditched every single one. And I'd let him. I'd made excuses for him. He's stressed. He's tired. He needs space.

I pushed open the front door. Luckily, it was unlocked. Tonight was Friday. He was probably just relaxing.

But the pair of shoes beside his at the door wasn't part of that picture.

They were smaller. Delicate. The kind worn by a woman who cared about such things.

My stomach tightened. A sister, perhaps? A handbag and a phone rested on the glass table, designer brands I couldn't afford. I sprinted up the staircase, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I could hear feminine giggles drifting down the hall. Then a low rumble in response.

Interesting. That was Adrian's low rumble, the kind that used to make my heart stutter. The kind that used to make me feel safe.

The bedroom door was ajar, warm light spilling through the crack. My feet turned cold. My palms went slick. I didn't bother knocking. I walked straight in.

I froze.

A girl in a bra. A girl?

No. Those blue eyes, they were my sister's. Sienna.

She wore nothing but the lace, the sheet pooled carelessly around her waist, her hair fanned across the pillow like she owned it. Like she'd been waiting for this moment. Adrian hovered over her, his lips trailing down her neck, his hands gripping her hip.

Then her gaze met mine.

And she smirked.

Honestly, I didn't know what to do. What to say. How long had this been happening? Days? Months? Had she been laughing at me this entire time?

I gathered my courage. Forced air into my lungs. Cleared my throat.

"Adrian."

My voice came out steadier than I expected. I couldn't have been more grateful. He froze, just for a second, before sitting up. His chest was bare. His hair was disheveled. He looked like a guilty teenager, not a man who had just shattered five years of my life.

"Sienna," he said, raising a hand like that would fix anything. "Let me explain."

"Explain what, Adrian?" My voice cracked on the last word. "That the reason you've been ditching our dates and ignoring my texts is because you've been cheating on me?"

"Glad you caught it," Sienna cut in, her tone sharp as a blade. She didn't bother covering herself. She wanted me to see. Every inch of her was a weapon aimed at my chest. "Come on, Kendra, it isn't his fault. He just found better, anyone at his place would choose a bomb over a boring detective. Something that isn't a flat chest."

She tossed her hair back, drawing attention to her exposed shoulders. To the curve of her throat. Everything I wasn't.

"Sienna," Adrian muttered. She gripped his hand, and he didn't pull away. Didn't even flinch.

"Kendra, you were always at work," he said, his voice flat. Like he was reading a grocery list. "Sienna found me when I was just lonely."

"What?" Tears welled in my eyes, hot and unwelcome. "I was always at work? Says the one who ditched our dates seven times in a row. Says the one who never once asked about my day."

"So what, Kendra? You were always so desperate." His words hit like a slap. "You never let me off."

The realization crashed over me, cold and suffocating. I had been alone in this relationship all along. I was just a benefactor. A safety net. A placeholder until something better came along.

"Adrian, I supported you financially for five years," I said, my voice trembling now, the cracks spreading. "Emotionally. I thought things were difficult. I thought we were building something together." I swallowed hard. "Turns out you just never loved me."

Since I was twenty, I'd helped him with rent. Groceries. The security deposit on this very apartment. I'd worked double shifts, taken on extra cases, told myself it was what partners did.

He shrugged. "At least thanks for giving me the taste of what it's like to be with the perfect, hot detective, Kendra Davenport." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "It was a pleasure. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

He turned back to Sienna. She was already laughing. Already pulling him down by the neck.

"Keep him," I said, my voice hardening into something sharp and cold. "He's a jerk anyway."

I raised a hand to my mouth and stormed out without waiting for their reaction. I didn't run. I refused to run. But I moved fast enough that my vision blurred.

I rushed to my car, slammed the door, and sat in the driver's seat. The snack box sat on my lap. I opened it. I ate every single thing in silence, chewing through the anger, the hurt, the betrayal, for thirty full minutes.

The bread was stale. The meat was dry. The food tasted like ash.

But I kept chewing. Because if I stopped, I might break. And I refused to break. Not for him. Not for her. Not for anyone.

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. My eyes were red-rimmed, but no tears had fallen. Good. I wouldn't give them that satisfaction. I wouldn't give anyone that satisfaction.

I started the engine and pointed the car toward the one place where no one knew my name.

A high-end bar. Somewhere dark. Somewhere loud. Somewhere I could forget what I saw.

I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles went white.

Was digesting it even necessary?