I nod.

“All night.”

I nod again.

“And we can go anywhere.”

“You can try,” I say.

I won’t lose again.

“Deal,” she says.

They rise from their seats, Callum dropping some money on the table as they filter past us, toward the door.

But Clay stops at my side, speaking low and close again. “And you owe me a new dress,” she says.

She leaves, and I smile to myself. Yeah, good luck with that.

“What are you doing?” Dallas yanks me around. “Macon won’t agree to that.”

I ignore him and leave the restaurant, passing Army, Iron, and Aracely without a word. I make the short trek down the road to my house, walking past the open workshop. Macon works on a motorcycle while a few of the local boys watch him with beers in their hands.

Safe in my room, I lock the door, plug my phone into the charger, and fall to my bed, keeping the room dark.

I stare above me, the streetlight outside glowing across the ceiling as some Kansas song vibrates through the walls from the garage. My white Christmas lights decorate my wrought-iron headboard and border the window frame, reminding me of spotlights in the dark of a stage.

I’m an actress, inside and out. For years, I played my part well, as if everything was according to script and I knew what was coming. No surprises.

But tonight, the snake inside uncoiled, and it felt good. My venom wasn’t like hers, so I never thought it was deadly. I’d given Clay too much power the last four years.

I smile in the dark. I’m poison. I can be poison, too.

I take my pillow underneath my head and hug it to my chest, squeezing the fabric in my fists and burying my nose in it.

My desire for her earlier was nothing. Just confusion.

Maybe I’m still attracted to her like I was years ago, before I realized how hideous she was.

Or maybe I just hate her so much that I want her to see my power. A kiss that turns into a bite. A fight that turns into a fuck.

Any way I slice it, it isn’t good. I’ve never been a violent person, and I don’t want to hurt people.

I just…I don’t know. She’s changing me. I want to affect her.

Curling on my side, I hold the pillow, letting go of the worry and planning for tomorrow.

For Clay. For the key.

And for the reality that I don’t want revenge or a fight. I want to have some fun.

I’m going to have fun on Night Tide.

“Liv?”

I stir, the fog in my brain lifting.

“Liv!” Two loud pounds hit my door, and I squeeze the pillow in my arms.

Sleep weighs heavy as I blink my eyes open, seeing a faint light stream through the windows.

Shit. I just laid down.

Didn’t I?

Turning over, I look at the clock, seeing it’s six fifty in the morning.

I shoot up, rubbing my eyes. Oh, my God. I slept in my clothes.

I clear my throat. “I’m up!”

“Can you make me a lunch to take to work?” Army asks. “Please? I’m swamped.”

Dex cries right outside the door, and I know he’s talking about the baby.

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Damn, it feels like I didn’t sleep at all. I don’t remember dozing off.

I straighten my arms, still wrapped around the pillow, and toss it off me.

The night before comes back, and I remember the deal I made with Clay.

I’m a little scared, but I’m a little excited too. And my head is clearer now. She not my enemy. She’s not that important. It’ll be an intense night, but I’ll make sure the Saints aren’t the only ones having fun.

My phone buzzes, and I grab it, climbing out of bed. I open my door, seeing Army walk with his kid down the hall. I close it again, stretching my arms above my head and feel the muscles and kinks crack in my back. I don’t think I moved all night.

My phone buzzes again, and I hold it up, swiping the screen. My toolbar is filled with notifications.

I narrow my eyes. What the hell did I miss while I slept? Damn.

I pick one and click on it, my chest immediately caving as my stomach rolls and vomit rises up my throat.

“What?” I choke out.

Clay.

No.

“HAVE YOU SEEN her?” Amy asks, swiping her lunch card.

“Do I care?”

I follow, swiping mine, tossing it on my tray, and carry my food to the lunch table. Krisjen follows, Milo stealing a handful of her fries as he passes. “Be careful, Clay,” she says. “There’s a reason Sanoa Bay has survived as long as it has. And a reason our parents don’t want us over there.”

“Please…” Amy chides her, sitting down next to Callum. “That video was priceless. Omega Chi supremacy.”

I pull my sweater vest off over my head and set it down on the table, pulling my phone out of my bag and checking notifications. Heat dampens my forehead.

Posting that video was stupid. Jesus, what was I thinking? I’d just been so fucking hot after seeing her in that car, her sweaty paws all over Megan, that I whipped out my phone and started filming.

And then I went inside Mariette’s and there was more confrontation. I can’t stop thinking about her.

I’m always thinking about her. I just want her out of my head.

“Our money doesn’t matter to them,” Krisjen tells Amy.

“True power doesn’t come from money,” I bite back, sick of Liv using that excuse, as well. “It comes from doing things others won’t. She threatened us. She challenged us. She brought this on herself.”

Maybe.

And maybe I kinda went too far. I was angry when I came home last night, so I went to Wind House and worked on Mr. Green’s makeup and watched Gates stitch a gash from a car accident victim that the morgue forgot to do.

But by one o’clock in the morning, it was still festering, so I just posted it. Fuck it. It was a reflex—a ‘close your eyes and just do it’ moment that I quickly regretted—but what did she think was going to happen? I won’t stop. I don’t know why, but I can’t, and I know she knows that. In fact, this should have gotten a lot uglier a long time ago.

What was I supposed to do? Just let her go? Just stop?

I haven’t seen her all morning, but I know she’ll show up at some point. Maybe tomorrow, with her head up, refusing to speak to me, taking the high road and not giving me the satisfaction of her attention and all that bullshit.

But then I hear Krisjen saying, “Clay.”

And before I have a chance to turn around, someone shoves me, and I stumble, nearly falling. I spin around, spotting Liv just as her palm whips across my face. I whimper, my head jerking to the side, and the tendons in my neck screaming. I tumble to the floor, shooting out my hands to catch myself.

“Ohhhhh!” someone howls.

“Bitch!” Amy shouts.

My cheek burns like it’s on fire, but I shake my head clear and climb back to my feet. Amy rushes Liv, but I dart out and yank her back, shoving Liv in the chest.

“Come on!” I yell.

This is between her and me. Fucking finally.

Her eyes are like lightning, and she looks like she wants to take a bite out of me. I growl, charging her. She crashes into a table, grabbing juice and throwing it at me before we spill to the ground. My claws dig into her skin and her fingers are ripping my hair out of my scalp as we go at each other—hitting, tearing, squeezing, and raging.