Which is why I don't let it happen. Or, that's what I tell myself.

I fumble it.

She's resting her head in my lap when it happen. "Rory's a good guy," I say. It's a mistake. She tenses, and I don't need aura reading powers to feel the way the energy shifts. She asks for her ring back. I leave.

"Kam. Kam. Hey, Kamilliajora." Draxus waves his hand to catch my attention. "Where'd ya go, bud?"

"Sorry. Having an off day." I try to lock back in, hefting my end of the shipping container.

"Bullshit," Draxus says. "You've been like this all week." 

He's right. It's been a week since I saw her.

Still, I'm not letting him know that. Rax doesn't need to know that I'm spiraling over a woman who murdered half of our friends. Sorry: "banished".

Always hated that. There's no way back from banishment. At least, not without some real nasty spellwork.

And the Magisorcerers burnt the scrolls.

Which is just another reason I shouldn't be doing this. My people — monsters — would crucify me for even thinking about doing what I'm doing. I can't be with her. 

It's been a week. I've been good.

She hasn't texted. I haven't texted.

I've been good, and I won't be bad.

It's midnight, and I'm at Lisette's. Even on a Tuesday, it's packed. We don't have places to go.

People see us and they run. Except tonight, Lisette rings the bell at the bar... and everyone clears out.

Some fucking influencer posted about the bar, which means tourists.

'Monsterfuckers', is what they call themselves. Like they're doing us a favor, or like what they're doing is so transgressive. 

And we just gotta take it.

Normally, anyway. But tonight? Tonight it's been a week. I should leave. 

Lisette asks if I'm okay.

I tell her I am. We both know it's a lie.

The first tourist is a good-looking guy in a suit. He beelines for me.

I take the top-shelf whiskey and tell him I don't do guys. Unless he's having some complicated feelings about his gender and is about to have a revelation? Nah. I'm good.

The second is a sweaty mess.

The third looks like her.

Close enough, anyway. She's more compact, but she radiates that same innocence.

And now that I've gotten a taste, I get bold.

My tail grazes against her leg as we flirt. She's giggling and blushing. Into it. So damn into it. I don't need Tiana. Too complicated. 

This is pure. This is easy.

When she handcuffs me and throws me in the back of the squad car, though, I think I might've fucked up.

"You don't remember me?" she asks. It takes me a minute.

"Laura?"

"Lindsey. And I got you."

Then it clicks. That night with Tiana a decade ago. I stiff-armed some brat to get to her.

Fuck.

It's not civil penalties I'm facing here. There's criminal charges at play. I can't even pretend to care, though.  
  
It's not about her. It's not. It's just... she gave me a glimpse of something better. She gave me a glimpse of a world where I could exist and be embraced.  
  
That world is gone. A lie.

They book me and throw me in a cell. My tail's restrained to my leg with hexbolts. I wait. I don't say anything. I shut the fuck up like those guys smoking the cigars on TikTok told me to.

I don't have a lawyer, so they say I'll have to wait to see "what lowlife would represent someone like you."

Hours pass. I think. I was pretty drunk, and the only passage of time is the way a hangover headache's pounding in my head.  
  
I think, ultimately, I'm okay if this is how it ends for me. If I never leave here, then that's fine. I wasn't meant to live a good life in their world. I was made to be used.

I hear that cop's voice through the walls. Not enough to know what she's saying, just that she's pissed.  
  
"Onto the next 'injustice' to solve," I mutter.  
  
"Huh?" A woman next to me that seems just as wrecked as I am asks.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
Then Officer Lindsey tromps up to the cell and unlocks it.

"You." She points to me, and I think she's pointing to the woman next to me until she adds, "Kamilliajora Neff, you're free to go."

I stand up, confused. I'm a bit unsteady on my legs, and the spins are kicking in. Fuck me running, I gotta make better life choices.  
  
I half-stumble out of the cage.

"What's the matter, Linds? You didn't seem scared of it earlier," I slur as Officer Lindsey slow-walks taking off the hexbolts.

She grits her teeth and ratchets one of the bolts the wrong way. It digs in.
  
"Ow! Fucking hell."
  
"Lindsey." I know that voice. I've missed it for a week.

But how?