#annie x stack

While snowy winters in Mississippi are rare, they aren’t impossible. The snow steadily falling outside means it is cold, and that means that the whole of Clarksdale, Black or White, is locked into their homes. 

Bunked in and bored to death. 

However! Annie has a plan to address the need to keep both busy and warm, with a soft smile on her face she watches her tea kettle tink and clink as the water starts to boil. Annie sways in place as she grinds together the warming spices of ginger and cardamom along, some floral tones of dried rose and jasmine into plain black tea leaves for her custom ‘Nice n’ Warm’ blend. 

She eyes down Smoke’s finely sculpted back; he is clad in just a pair of pajama pants and his under-tank his brown skin striking against the white of the top and silver of his dog tags. The sight prompts Annie to add a few more pinches of dried Hybrid Damiana aka Love Leaf aka a potent aphrodisiac she’s been custom growing for a while. Hell it was this tea blend alone that was the cause of the mini-baby waved in Clarksdale two summers ago. Can’t do nothing but fuck to cure the fever it causes. 

Meanwhile, Smoke watches the harsh flurries of white hit the window pane trying to calculate when would be the best time to run out to the side of the house to get more wood for the fireplace. His brow frowns at the new sight just outside the glass.

“I know that ain’t…. That dumbass!” Smoke scowls as he gets up and hurries out of the room to tug on his sweater and denim coat. Annie frowns herself and looks at the window just to roll her eyes with another exasperated sigh as she sifts the blend into a silk tea bag to plop into the kettle.

 There, trudging through the falling snow in just a trench coat, hat, and scarf with a messenger bag clutched in his ungloved fist, is Stack. Annie giggles at the scolding Smoke was laying into his brother as he hurries over the yard while the younger twin slips ’n’ slides on the ice slick footpath. Annie watches as the two basically collide together trying to stop the other from slipping on the ice which inspires a whole new slew of scolding to leave Smoke’s mouth as they hit the snowy ground anyway. She giggles harder yet reluctantly pulls on a long cardigan over her thin house-dress for modesty-sake.

“And why the hell you out in this?!” Smoke’s voice booms as the two finally make it back to the poach in one piece. Stack hurries to knock the snow off his boots and leaves them just in the doorway first, rolling his eyes at Smoke’s questioning. Stack makes a point to toss his snowy coat onto Smoke, making sure the cold of it hits his brother in the face. 

“I can’t visit my damn brother and sister-in-law anymore?” Stack argues back before yelping as Smoke slaps snow onto the back of his head with a satisfied smirk at the younger’s jumping shiver. Stack flicks him off as he turns into the kitchen to smile brightly at Annie, the last of his shivers starting to melt in the warmth of her house. He pulls her into a half hug that makes her flinch from the cold but still grin.

“Hey Annie-girl!”

“Hey, ‘Lias.”

“Not in a damn ice storm, ya can’t!” Smoke argues as he puts away their coats. Stack waves him off before settling into the chair Smoke was occupying beforehand and starts to rub his hands together to warm them up.

“Well, I was about to die over at my house. So I gotta valid excuse.” Stack says and Annie gives him a bewildered look. 

“What’s wrong? Heater dead?” Annie asks as she sets up two mugs with generous amounts of clove-infused honey into the bottoms before slowly pouring her custom tea.

“Well my dear Annie! It’s pretty simple… I was bored.” Stack explains with a serious expression that cracks into a sly grin as Annie chuckles. 

“Stack…. Git outta my house.” Smoke deadpans and that sends the chuckles into cackles from Annie.

“Wow! My own brother! Wanna cast me out into the cold and frozen streets to suffer! To frost over, fall and shatter into ice! Annie, how'd you meet such a cruel man!” Stack overreacts, moping in performance. Smoke scowls as he takes out the other chair and crosses his glorious arms, now hidden by a sweater.  

“Ah, you’d be a’ight nigga.”

“Elijah, be nice to lil brother.” Annie teases with a kiss to the side of her husband’s head as she settles one of the aphrodisiac mugs in front of him and warms her hand on her own. She then prepares the other kettle with plain water to boil once again. She contemplates making it all chamomile and lavender to knock her brother-in-law out so she could get her nut in, in peace. 

“Yeah! Be nice to lil brother, like the woman said!” Stack places the messenger bag on the table and starts to dig through it. “ An’ for you Annie! I got some new records for ya, hot off the press outta Atlanta” Stack bribes her. Annie oohs while Smoke rolls his eyes and lights his pipe, she pulls out the small circle and eyes the label for a name. The only thing scrawled on the little paper circle of pink is “ Dirty Lucille.”

“So bored? Whatcha tryna do?” Annie asks Stack as she accepts the gift, being a proper host while Smoke takes a big sip of his tea in trying to warm back up. 

“Uhm, I don't know. What was ya’ll ‘bout to get into?”

“Hibernation.” Smokes deadpans, making Stack’s face drop into a matching look of disengagement as he turns his head to look at Annie, a move that says with not a word “this nigga.” Both men give soft smiles as Annie clutches her belly with laughter at the two's antics. She walks around the kitchen table, sipping her mug as she goes back towards the sitting room and further back to the bedroom.

“Give me a second. Let me get my donimos, work some money off the both of ya’. Elijah’s gonna wash the dishes.” Annie taunts with a wink as she leaves. Smoke unabashedly watches the heavy sway of her wide hips and bounce of her ass. So entranced in the look of his wife he didn’t notice Stack’s eyes roaming her over as well. He takes in her upper curves and the glistening skin of her neck that was showcased with her hair pulled up in a puff. 

Stack swallows heavily and rolls his toothpick over his teeth; he then gets up to busy himself so Smoke didn’t catch on to him. Stack snags another mug out the cupboard and hums at the two kettles. He eyes the one that already had the white ribbon of a tea bag hanging out of it and pours some from it along with two big scoops of sugar. He barely lets the cane sugar melt before taking back a big gulp and humming at the strong warming flavors.

Both brothers settle down, Stack rolling a cig to share when Annie comes back in with a cheshire grin and sets the bright blue tin full of dark wood dominos with dots of bold white on the table. She hands the tablet of paper to Stack, who automatically divides it into threes and puts little nicknames on top to signify who's who. Annie slides Smoke the thin domino stand out the box before dumping the little bricks onto the table and her Man starts to mix them with instigating clacks. 

“Now Annie, I love ya! But you just any ole nigga when it comes to dominos. I ain’t gonna be nice and soft like him.” Stack taunts with a point of his thumb to Smoke. Annie scoffs and flicks his forehead.

“You can keep runnin’ that mouth, cause I’m finna run them pockets.”

“My pockets!?”

“Imma start with ten dollars down, unless ya pussy?”

“American green?” Stack asks with a sly grin that turns wild as Annie pulls out a true ten dollar bill from her cleavage and slaps it down where the game is going to be built. Stack is quick to pull out a roll of cash  from his pocket and adds two tens in. 

Smoke smacks his lips then gasps when both brother and wife whip their heads around to him.

“Where’s ya bread bruh?”

“Hell nah, I ain’t sacrificing my green to you damn chickenheads!” Smoke swears as he pulls his seven dominos from the pile. 

“Dem sound like broke nigga words. Dem words all you can afford, Elijah?” Stack says. Smoke rolls his eyes watching Annie take a gulp of her tea and lick the lush of her lips.

“Ain’t broke, my habits keep me from that. Like not letting yo cotton-mouth ass con me.

“Ah, baby! I thought you just played in puss, not that ya was one.” Annie tuts next and Stacks hollers as Smoke gasps at his wife.

“Watcha self woman ‘fore I have ya bent over my knee wit something in ya mouth!”

“ ‘Long as some money on it! Put it in, Mister Moore.” Annie ends with a purr that makes both brothers shiver. Smoke kisses his teeth but takes his denim coat off, making a show of pulling out the roll from the inner pocket then tossing a twenty and ten on the pile. 

Just like that, the game begins. 

For the next 40 minutes nothing but rude taunts, flirty insults, and dominos slams fill the air of the little kitchen that gains so much heat the window fogs. All three mugs of Nice ‘n’ Warm are bone dry empty and sweat rolls down all three’s of their brows. Stack’s eyes damn near cross between looking at his hand of bricks and the glistening of Annie’s tiddies. She’s taken off her cardigan 20 minutes in, uncaring to the sharp side eye her husband gives her in favor of taking money out of his coat pocket. Annie’s plump mounds drag on the table before jostling back in place when she kicks back in her seat. The younger twin licks sweat off his upper lip before shedding off his sweater, leaving him in his undershirt.

“Feeling that heat, Stack? Can’t take it?’

“Oh I got sumthin’ you can take a’ight, Ann. Hard!” Stack bellows slamming down a double five brick and cackling as he adds 20 to his point count. He took the swift kick to his shin by Smoke like a champ, reveling as Annie pants in a frustration that seems to be more than just competition but a madness that was starting to plague him as well.

A tightness in his pelvis only a tiddy fuck or a taste of something pink may remedy. Not being teased by his brother’s wife just sitting there in all her thick and hot body glory. 

Smoke, of course, was worse off. His dick was straight hard, one hand commands his bricks and the other on Annie’s thigh gripping a bruise into the chocolate softness. Everytime she pressed her thighs together for friction he made a point to run his fingers down her panty-covered slit forcing her to open up and Annie forced out another flirt from her sinful mouth to pretend she had some kinda upper hand. 

“Fuck you! ‘Lijah! Play that gotdamn snake eye you got so I can getta twenty piece back!” Annie fusses and Smoke smacks his teeth in time with a swat to the side of her ass. The recoil of it aches his dick to just have Annie sit on his lap and remedy him. The memories of her riding him like she’s was a Kentcky pro on a mustang almost makes say fuck it to the game and fuck off to his brother. 

“I ain’t got shit but dick to give you, Woman!” he hisses out instead as he picks up the double one anyway. Annie’s giggle is twisted.

“Man, then put it on the table!”

 Annie rolls her eyes back and lets out a moan when Smoke teases her slit again and it becomes a bit too much. She presses her hand over her mouth in surprise that it came out of her. Both Smoke and Stack grow still as a cold night. That moan… it means something… it charges the space with pure lust and pushes boundaries. Annie yanks Smoke hand off her by the wrist and Stack swallows to see his twin’s hand glistening with that bit of wetness he’d sneakily been drawing out of her.

Thoughts of symmetry filled the younger twin's mind at that moment. 

Would his hand look the same if baptised by Annie?

Annie lets out a shaky breath, they watch her body bounce as Annie presses her legs together, and straightens up. Annie placed down her third domino with a soft click, it and the crackling of the oven the only sound among them. Stack squints at his dominos, he had two options.

Win the game but lose the sight of Annie. 

Stretch the bets and see where this goes.

Annie’s eyes go wide as Stack abruptly stands. Her jaw drops to see his dick just as hard as Smoke’s, both brother’s velvety girth’s throbbing in showcase through their pants. 

“Let’s put it on the table, Ann.” Stack offers. He barely gets a chance to breath before Smoke snatches him by the collar and nearly hauls him clear across the table. 

“Fuck you say, bruh?”

“You heard me, Annie-girl said put some dick on the table, why would I refuse the lady’s request?”

Annie is between the brothers in a flash. Pressing her back against Smoke to force him to put distance between himself and Stack then Annie lays her hands against Stack’s firm pecks and staggers him back a step.

Yet, she kept her hands on him.

“Elijah. Sinmi.” She commands him, her Man sucks in a breath with a bit of a hiss between the teeth but relents. His hands drift down to her supple waist and grip her flush against him with a grid forwards. The poke of dick-printed fabric against the back of her pussy is sticky with precum and makes Annie swallow down a throaty whimper at the tease. Stack watches her inspect him, his heart pounding at her calculating glances as she undresses him with her eyes. Annie’s hands skim down his front until they rest on his waistband and from there she pops off his buckle. Stack thrust forward a bit so his pants don’t fully fall off then and there.

“Fuck this game.” Annie says. Stack eyes go wide as Smoke’s hands surge up Annie’s body to grasp Annie’s tiddies in two gripping, overspilling handfuls of plump, brown flesh. He bends down and licks a kiss onto Annie’s neck with a glare of possession.

“Yeah, fuck this game. Take yo ass on home, nigga. Annie, take yo ass on to the bedroom before I put cha on this table again.”

Annie shutters for a moment, hands flying up to his ear and tugging down it lightly with her nails.

“You ain’t the one decidin’ the game ‘ere. Ms. Annie is.” Stack stands his ground with a nod. Annie chuckles darkly at that, a throaty sound that damn near vibrates through both siblings. 

“Annie?” Smoke asks into her hair. Annie trails her hand down from Smoke’s head, then back onto his body until it runs lightly over his hardness.

“I do like a quick game….” Annie teases as she clutches him a bit and Smoke curses under his breath. Annie presses forward now, basically dragging Smoke forward as she plays her free hand down Stack’s pants. 

“Ah, shit!” He girts out as Annie gently but firmly grips around the base of his shaft. The rest of Annie fingers palm around the side, on instinct her fingertips glide and tease the vein on the left. Annie hums with intrigue, like she just invented something special or discovered something unknown to the world. 

“Damn. Ya’ll twins all the way down.” She tells them both, a desperate lick around her lips to hold back the need to salivate. As she holds both brothers now, Annie can’t help but feel a deep pressure in her core, a greedy yearning for the girth of both of ‘em to be in her in any way.

“We gonna play a quick game of bones. First person to 50, get to pick how this is goin’ down. Imma even be a little nice.  Ya win a five ya get five. Ya win a ten, ya getta ten. Ya win a 20, ya getta 20.” Annie tells them both. 

“Get 20 of what, Woman?” Smoke asks and Annie smirks. 

“20 seconds to prove something.”

Both brothers stiffen at that. She may as well have told two lions that the bone yard decided whose gonna run priderock. Annie looks at both of them with side eyes and both give matching deep grunting groans as she tightens her grip on their shafts to command attention. To command the reaction she wants.

“Yes ma’am.” They both say, it sends a pulse of pleasure through Annie’s pussy. 

Smoke and Stack sit across from each other now. Smoke’s look of righteous fury and possession against Stack’s looks of sly satisfaction and fascination. Annie eyes them both with determined lust and hunger. She flips their old game over and mixes the dominos with fast hands. Stack scratches the old game, Smoke lights the discarded cigarette and makes a point to blow the cloud straight over the dominos and into Stack’s face. 

“Ladies’ first.” Stack says as soon as Annie finishes the mix. She bites her cheek coyly and picks five. 

“Childen next.” Smoke grumbles. Stack smacks his lips as the second youngest there and takes his five. 

“Poppa’s last.” Annie teases. Stack gives a dry laugh as Smoke smirks through his selection. 

“Big six?” Annie asks. 

No one moves. 

“Double fives?” she asks again. 

Stack grins as he flips it out. 

“Ten.” He says aloud as he writes down the O on the paper. Annie’s shoulder hitch as she tries to hold back a chuckle at the sight of Smoke puffing like a dragon. 

“That’s ten Mississppis. Smoke, count ‘em.” Annie tells them.

Stack stands up, and comes to the side of Annie. She looks up at him with her doe eyes blown wide through lusty lashes and it makes him pause with a deep swallow.

“You need me to turn?” Annie asks him before he can say anything. 

“7 seconds nigga.” Smoke grumbles. 

Stack’ hands are gentle as he cuffs both of her sweat-damp breasts, palming them with increasing firmness, testing the plump flesh. Liftin’ em. Letting them drop so they bounce. Teasing the nipples hard with a roll between his thumbs and pointers.  Annie’s hand goes between her legs to press a thumb on her clit as the stimulation makes her pussy wet, needy to be played with. Stack makes a show of giving her a big wet kiss that is more a clash of teeth then something proper. A taste of the tongue, Stack goes to glance over at Smoke with a prideful smirk but Annie’s smack on the side of his thigh with her free hand turns his attention back to her. 

“Full attention soldier.” Annie commands him. Stack gives a nod, mesmerised by her before he backs off and back to his seat when Smoke barks out the last number to him. Smoke scoff, “Tiddy baby.” he taunts and Annie smacks her lips. 

“Did you forget how you sleep? Play ya hand ‘fo ya piss me off.” Annie strikes. Smoke smacks his lips but plays a throwaway hand, Annie matches it. Stack’s forced to match it, all of them are crossed legged in the pressure. Smoke tosses another hand and Annie strikes with a smirk, linking a three with the two on the opposite side of the layout.

“Five.” Annie announces, watching Stack mark it before she stands. She circles the both of them, eyes scanning for selection on who’s gonna get her little bit of time. Annie dips her head down allowing only a few millimeters of distance, damn near hovering her juicy lips from either of ‘em. Cinnamon laced breath puffing temptation onto either of the brothers’ ears but never delivering.

Smoke lets out another tobacco cloud to billow over his lips as Annie lingers around the back of Stack’s neck. The elder watches with piercing jealousy as Stack inhales Annie’s scent and tips his head back for just a chance of her lips. Annie swerves back with a smirk as she makes her way over to Smoke instead. Annie’s hand cuffs his chin and pitches it up.

“Count ‘em.” Smoke growls as Annie lips damn near eat his down as they kiss. Annie hands rub Smoke’s neck as her man grips her ass and pulls her closer. Stack rolls his lips in as he watches the way Annie’s ass jiggles, the impressions of Smoke’s fingers into that softness, the way she drags her nails down the column of Smoke’s throat. 

“Five!” He grits out and Annie hums. She makes sure to smack loudly as she comes out of the kiss. Swatting Smoke’s hand down. Annie smirks before walking back to her seat.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The three of them play. 

“Your play, baby.” Annie reminds him.

Ten seconds - Smoke fingers into Annie for all ten counts until she panting.

Five seconds - Stack has Annie swirl her wet tongue around his tip.

Twenty seconds - Annie has Stack sucking her toes while she bites and sucks bruises into Smoke’s neck. 

Ten seconds - Stack leaves hickeys upon Annie left breast and damn near a bruise with his grip on her right. All while she grinds down deliciously on his lap.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Teases and preludes to something truly sinful. 

“Fifty!” Annie shouts as she slams down a double two that leaves her with the last ten points to win on the table. 

Both men practically sit at attention with anticipation for just what she could have in store for them. Annie leans forward, crossing her arms and leaning on one of her hands as she looks the two of them over.

Annie eyes Stack’s mouth as her hand drifts over to Smoke’s thigh. The many tales Mary shared to Annie about Stack’s gift for eating it come to mind. While Smoke wasn’t a chump of an eater, his skills were better used for drilling into her and tossing her around then just praying to pussy. She liked to make Smoke twitch, the back and forth of control was critical to her.

“Elias?” Annie asks after another minute, eyes low as her voice becomes sultry. She starts to palm and tease Smoke’s dick with her hand while commanding him. Stack hums, spitting his toothpick to the side at the sight of Annie jabbing a finger down. 

“You gonna defend your reputation?” She asks him.

With a shark-like grin, Stack sinks down off his chair, crawls under the table and pulls her legs apart.  Smoke blink harshly, flinching at Annie’s talented hand and the bump of her thigh now against his. He watches her gasp, head thrown back as Stack wretches her panties to the side and digs his nose straight in to get a smell of her pussy. That sensitivity Smoke has been building up all night putting her on edge. Annie places one hand on the back of Stack’s head, fucking up his waves as her fingertips push through the tamed curls. Her other beacons Smoke with a single curl of her pointer finger. 

“Stand.” Annie pants before moaning and trying to buck forward in her chair as Stack starts licking into her. Stack’s arms snake around her hips, pulling a leg over his shoulder to lock her in place so he can drill his tongue in deeper. His mustache scratches against the soft skin of her inner thighs making lightning crawl all over her down there when his lips peck her pearl.

Smoke does as instructed, standing up as he frees dick from his pants, letting it bob out, hard and veiny as it taps against the side of Annie’s jaw. Smoke girts his teeth as Annie turns her head towards him and starts to lick up the side of his shaft. Smoke shakes his head with a hiss as she swirls the tip, his hand cuffing the back of her head.

“All this craziness you talked, a ‘course you want somethin’ down ya throat for it.” Smoke scolds her. Annie hums, a smile in her eyes as she gazes up at him. Annie hollows out her cheeks, and slowly bobs down him, small chokes as his dick jumps in her mouth. She slides back off of him just as slowly, ending with a wet plop and whining moan. She clutches over Stack's head while he teases the pearl of her pussy properly with his tongue until her back arches as she squirts down the mouth muscle.

“You…fuc… you gonna shut me up?” She asks Smoke though broken moans.

Smoke is swift to swing his leg over so he straddles her in a stand and slips dick down her throat. 

Both moan aloud at the movement, Annie’s free hand claws at his hip and up his torso as Smoke start to fuck her face with a swift and damn near rough pace. His nails tangle into curls at the nape of her neck while he guides her head. Smoke swears at the sloppy noises the keen fromAnnie as she loses rhythm and bucks further onto Stack’s tongue. Her legs shake and threaten to damn near locking him in as she comes closer to orgasm. Stack hikes her leg up higher upon his shoulder and adds his thumb into her as well. 

Smoke gets tight as Annie uncontrollably hums her moan of pleasure out onto his shaft. Smoke wipes the tears off her cheek.

“Yeah, get the nut outta her bruh. I’m tryna see her cry on my shit.” Smoke growls. Smoke deepens his pace and Annie wraps both arms around his waist, nails digging into his lower back as he fuck her mouth. 

Annie cums apart as Stack spells his name inside her, pussy flowing down her chin to dribble onto his chest. He keeps lapping it up as Annie shivers and her knee presses onto the side of his face.  Smoke comes with a swearing shout. Annie whimpers with leaky tears as she swallows it in the midst of her own sex high. 

Stack takes a prize and crawls out from under the table, the front of him wet with Annie. He’s just in time to look up and see Smoke step out from in front of her. He takes in her heaving chest, blows out eyes, curls coming loose as she gasps with sticky lips. 

“You tryna see if we taste the same too, Annie-girl? I promise I’m sweeter.” Stack flirts as he whirls her panties around on his finger. He then balls it up and starts to wipe off his beard, his dick jumps at the fucked out look on Annie’s face. Annie stands, a stagger in her step for a moment that Smoke corrects. She pats his arm with gratitude before gesturing to him to sit back down himself. Smoke obliges, sitting with a heavy sigh as he watches her walk to the doorway, she looks over her shoulder and starts to roll down the straps off her nightgown..

“Fuck.”

“Lord, Ann!”

Annie giggles as the crumbled fabric falls to her feet and she stands naked before them both.

“Round twos in the bedroom boys, I gotta lay down. First one there is first one in.” 

Both brothers scramble in chase of her. 

----

Club Juke. Best damn spot in all the Delta.

Boards underfoot worn smooth from boots and heels, the air was full of sweat, smoke, and the sweet burn of corn liquor. A guitar cried somewhere on stage, the strings bending low, droning while Delta Slim’s voice dragged behind it, heavy as Delta mud after a storm. Laughter rolled through the saw mill, loud and easy, slipping between the clink of glasses and the drag of feet.

Behind the bar, Annie Moore moved like she owned every inch of it.

And technically, she did.

Dark skin dewy from sweat, sleeves rolled up past her elbows, apron tied tight across her generous waist. She poured with a steady hand, slid plates down the counter, and kept one eye on the kitchen door and the other on the busy room. Catfish crackled in the back, grease popping, collard greens steaming in big iron pots and her special gumbo sitting hot in pre made bowls for people to grab easy. Club Juke smelled like salt, spice, musk, and something strong enough to make a man forget his name for a while.

“Two more beers,” somebody called.

“I heard you the first damn time,” Annie shot back, already reaching for the bottles, “You gon’ get ‘em when I get to you.”

The man at the bar ain’t like that.

He was big enough through the shoulders, skin a deep brown dulled by travel dust, hat tipped low. He slammed his glass down harder than needed, liquor sloshing over the rim.

“Damn prices too high for this weak pour,” he groaned, loud enough for folks to hear, “And this the best damn juke!? Better than Messangers? ‘Cause of some twins that ain’t been ‘round for years?”

Annie didn’t even look up at first.

“Then don’t drink it.”

That got a few chuckles. From the ladies helping to cook to the two men helping to serve drinks.

The man leaned forward, close enough to crowd her space, “I said, you chargin’ too damn much.”

Now she looked at him. Slow. Unblinking. Her eyes cut up at him sharp as the straight razor between her bosom.

“And I SAID you ain’t got to spend it.”

A few heads turned. The blues didn’t stop on account of the growing altercation but it shifted enough to where folks were listening now.

The man smacked his black gums, reached out, fingers brushing the edge of her apron, like he meant to grab hold. Like he meant to control her. As if he knew the type of woman he was dealing with. See, Annie ain’t one to control. Damn sure ain’t one to grab onto like her husband wasn’t in the back room yoking some nigga up over a dice game. Because Smoke don’t wait. He don’t ask questions.

That was the wrong move.

Before Annie could even pull back, reach between her breasts for her razor, a hand came out of nowhere. A heavy hand with a gold and onyx signet ring and thick fingers caught the man by the wrist.

Tight. Almost cutting the man’s circulation.

Stack.

He had been leaning off to the side, half in shadow, Italian wine in his hand, watching the room the way he always did. With a smirk and shimmering eyes. Tall, broad through the chest, skin rich and smooth under the lantern lights, vest hanging open and the top few buttons of his shirt undone like he wasn’t trying too hard to be his usual put together and dapper self. His face held that easy look like he was just another man enjoying the festivities. Toothpick rolling between his teeth.

It dropped quick.

“Let her go,” Stack warned.

It was quiet for a beat.

The man tried to pull his hand free. Couldn’t.

“I’m just talkin’, twin,” he said, voice already losing some of that bite.

Stack set his Italian wine down with a barely audible clank. His jaw ticked and the faintest wolfish grin appeared. One he’d given many men from the Jim Crow South to the Windy City with skyscrapers instead of plantations—nothing different—men he’d gutted like fish and littered with bullets.

Then, the blade appeared. A switchblade with his name engraved. Small. Clean. Flash of metal glinting before it pressed up under the man’s jaw, right at the soft of his throat.

It felt as if the entire room froze. Blues kept playing, but it was softer now, careful not to turn up like it knew better than to get in the way.

Stack leaned in closer, his chest almost to the man’s, voice low enough that the man had to listen hard if he knew what was good for him.

“You don’t talk wit’ your hands on her.”

The blade pressed just a little. Only a little.

A thin line opened on the man’s skin. Not deep, just enough to sting. To draw blood. Just enough to let him feel it.

The man was frozen.

Stack’s eyes stayed on him, calm and cold, “You got a problem with the price, you walk ya’ ass out that door. You don’t reach for her. You don’t raise your voice at her. You don’t do nothin’ but pay or leave. You understand me, nigga?”

The man swallowed careful, throat tight against the edge of steel.

“Yeah…yeah, I hear you, twin.”

“Good.” Stack leaned in a fraction more, “run your mouth again in here, I won’t stop at a nick.”

Stack pulled the blade back like he was giving the man a clean shave. A swipe that dragged skin and some of his stubble with it.

The man stumbles away quick, hand flying to his throat. Pride already bleeding worse than the skin. He grabbed his hat off the floor, didn’t look at nobody, and pushed through the crowd, out into the night. Cornbread chuckled at the door. Eyes following the man’s retreating body up the dirt road.

And just like that, the room breathed again. Music picked back up. Preacher Boy Sammie kept strumming that guitar and Delta Slim sang a blues song about a woman in red at the crossroads while making that harmonica whistle. Laughter followed, a little louder now like folks shook off what they just saw.

Stack wiped the blade on a cloth, slow and easy, then tucked it away like it was nothing.

Annie was watching him. That same side eye she always gave him like she was weighing whether to be annoyed or impressed.

“Coulda handled that, Elias.” Annie said. Reaching for another glass.

Stack leaned his hip against the bar, picking his drink back up, “I know you could.”

She poured corn liquor into the class with a steady hand. Stack’s tongue dragged over the golds on his top teeth with a slight suction before he took a sip of wine.

“Then why you step in?”

Stack took another sip, eyes on her over the rim, “‘Cause he ain’t know that.”

Annie huffed, but there was something lighter in it now. She nudged him with her elbow as she passed, just enough to bump him off balance a little.

“Always doin’ the most.”

“Always fixin’ what need fixin’.” Stack shot back.

He lets that line sit a second, watching her move—how she pours, how she keeps the whole place in her hands without looking like she trying. Then, he leans in just a touch, voice low enough to stay between them.

“Truth be told…you like it a little,” he says, mouth curving, “me steppin’ in, cleanin’ up after you.”

Annie cuts her eyes at him, sharp, already reaching for another bottle.

Stack doesn’t back off.

“Don’t worry,” Stack adds, easy as breath, “I ain’t gon’ let it go to my head…long as you keep runnin’ things in my Juke like you do, sis.”

That grin stays there—slick, knowing—like he expects her to snap back at him.

Annie reached down, quick and smooth, and pulled that straight razor from where she kept it tucked between her breasts, the blade catching a thin line of light as it snapped open.

“Stack,” Annie said, calm as anything, “let me do my work ‘fore I cut yo’ black ass.”

A couple folks at the bar leaned back just a little.

Stack put his hands up in surrender but he didn’t flinch. If anything, his grin spread wider, eyes dropping from half a second to where she pulled it from before lifting back to her face.

“See,” he spoke, amused, “that right there is why I stepped in.”

She sucked her teeth, nudging him with her elbow as she turned back to the bottles.

“And that right there is why I don’t need you to.”

Stack let out a low laugh, lifting his glass again, settling in like he planned to stay right where he was, just close enough to watch her work, just far enough not to get cut.

She paused, just for a second.

Then, softer, under her breath, “Thank you.”

Stack didn’t make a big thing of it. Didn’t look at her long. He simply shrugged, one shoulder, voice smooth.

“You my sister. We can’t be in the same room without us arguin’ but I love ya’…and what’s Smoke’s is mine to protect so.”

Annie glanced at him again, something warm flickering behind her eyes before she turned back to her work.

“Boy, go on somewhere,” she said, but there was no edge to it this time.

Stack smiles to himself, lifting his glass as the music rolls on.

The door at the far end slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame.

Smoke came through it fast. Sleeves rolled past his elbows, shoulders squared, cigarette hanging from his mouth, the tip burning bright in the dim. The smell of gunpowder, the iron tang of blood, and sweat clung to him, sharp as hell over the liquor and grease already thick in the air. He cut through the room without asking nobody to move.

Folks moved anyway.

His eyes found Annie first.

“Annie,” Smoke called, voice raspy and low but carrying, “You straight?”

Annie didn’t stop moving. She poured drinks, slid plates across the bar, stirred pots of collards while moving her hips to the music.

“I’m good,” she said.

Smoke stepped up closer, gaze dragging over her quick, checking, making sure, “I need to put a bullet in a nigga or what?”

A couple men at the bar went real still at that. They remember Smoke shooting Terry and his buddy outside of Bo and Grace Chow’s colored grocery in town.

Annie shook her head, wiping her hands on her apron, “No. Stack handled it.”

Smoke’s eyes shifted.

They landed on Stack, standing easy against the bar like he ain’t just cleared the room ten minutes ago. That same calm sitting on him, drink in hand, shoulders loose.

Smoke squinted at him, cigarette smoke curling up past his face.

“Handled how?”

Stack’s mouth pulled into a grin, lazy and pleased with himself. He tipped his glass back, swallowed, then glanced over at Annie before answering.

“Pulled my blade out my boot,” he said, voice smooth, “sent him on his way with his tail tucked between his legs like a Mississippi donkey.”

Smoke looked between them.

Once.

Then again.

His eyes narrowed a little more, something unreadable moving behind them.

“Ya’ll being civil?”

Annie let out a short breath through her nose, turning back to the bar.

“Don’t start.”

Stack gave a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“Man came in here actin’ like he forgot where he was. I reminded him.”

Smoke took the cigarette from his mouth, ash dropping to the floor as he watched them both another second. Then, he stepped in, closer to Annie, voice dropping just for her. A voice he knew to put on for her.

“You sure you good, baby?”

Annie met his eyes, this time steady.

“I said I’m good.”

A beat passed. Her eyes trailed over his frame before dragging back up to his eyes. Smoke’s gaze remained locked on her face.

Smoke nodded once.

He flicked the rest of his cigarette down, grinding it under his boot, then glanced back at Stack.

Smoke didn’t turn away right off. He shifted like he was about to head back into the room, then stopped shot beside Stack instead, stepping in close. Close enough that their shoulders brushed. Close enough that whatever he said didn’t belong to the rest of the room.

His voice dropped.

“Bo came to me ‘bout that man.”

Stack tilted his head just a little, listening.

Smoke kept going, eyes forward, scanning the crowd like he was talking about nothing at all.

“Got his name. Know where he work. Field hand out past the east road. Sunup to sundown type.”

A chilling pause.

“He banned,” Smoke said, “From Club Juke, from anywhere got our hands on it.”

Stack’s jaw shifted, a quiet nod.

“If I catch him in passin’,” Smoke added, voice going colder, “I’m gin’ blow his top off.”

No raise. No heat. Just fact.

Stack let out a soft breath though his nose, something like approval sitting in it.

“I’ll make sure he don’t step through that door again.”

Then, he moved to go.

Stack’s voice followed him, light, teasing, cutting through the edge just enough to bend it.

“You sure Annie won’t kill him first?”

Annie giggled. She glanced over at her husband with them eyes that got her whatever she wanted. And it worked every time. Stack took a swig of his wine, dimples deep.

“Try not to cut up all my customers.” Smoke said.

Stack smirked.

“Tell ‘em to act right and don’t be cuttin’ up in our Juke.”

Smoke’s mouth twitched, just barely, before he turned back toward the back room, already listening for the next problem waiting to rise.

Behind him, Annie kept pouring.

Stack kept watching.

Pressure – the burden of physical or mental distress; the constraint of circumstance; known by some to make diamonds; known by most to burst pipes.

It’d taken a week to find the house.

But he’d found it. 

3bed, 1bath, tucked away far from the city. Tucked away somewhere, that wasn’t ever supposed to be found. At least not by a nigga like him — one with a score to settle. 

One with a score, that would never be settled. 

The outside of the house was picture perfect. Fern green sliding to match the door, white double hung windows, 5 steps that led up to a farmers porch. The lawn was a gardeners wet dream — manicured grass, flowers in full bloom, a fuckin’ apple tree standing front and center. There was no paint peeling on the house, no yellow patches in the yard, no cracks in the driveway or soft spots in the wood. This was more of a home than a house. One that was lived in. Loved. Taken care of. 

One that, when he was done, would never be the same. 

The inside was small, not cramped, just cozy. Comfortable. A mix of old and new.

One room was the master. The other had been turned into a guest room. Big oak dressers sat in both. Queen size beds. Floral print comforter sets. Flat screens mounted high on the yellow painted walls.

The master had more life — an unfinished book and a warm soda on one of the nightstands, a half eaten bag of caramels, loose change, and a little plaque that said ‘World’s Best Papa’ on the other. George and Louise were arguing on the tv, while the sound track of laughter rang out behind them. It looked like a good episode — one that nobody was watching. 

The third room had been turned into an office. Instead of a tv, certificates hung on the wall. Certificates and a picture of ‘The Last Supper’. A long pinewood desk dominated most of the space. It was neat — organized stacks of paper on the right, desktop computer in the center, and a valve of holy water and bible off to the left. 

The occupants of this house were right with God. Believed in him at least. Had faith. Today they’d find out if he was as real as they seemed to think he was. 

The kitchen was towards the front. Clean ceramic tile made up the floor — an offwhite pearl color to match the backsplash behind the countertops. The appliances, from the fridge to the microwave, were sleek and shiny. Looked new. Expensive. The pot on the stove couldn’t say the same. Neither could the skillet sitting next to it. They both were worn down, with love and time, and the little table pushed against the wall had met the same fate. Its wooden surface was clean but it wasn’t as polished as it used to be. Wasn’t as smooth. And as of right now, it was also missing chairs. The table was meant to sit four, but only two seats remained pushed up. And both were unoccupied. 

It was warm in here. Oven preheated to 350, both burners on the stove turned on. There was something sweet smelling simmering in that worn down pot, butter melting in that heavy ass cast iron skillet. Dough was rolled out on one counter, while half peeled potatoes rested on the other. Someone had been cooking. And then they’d gotten interrupted.

The kitchen was separated from the rest of the house by a half wall — one you had to step around before you could enter the living room. It was the typical space. Large sectional, leather arm chair, record player in the corner. A brick fire place sat under a mantle — one that was lined from end to end with framed photos. The pictures spanned through time — showing grand babies, cousins, graduations, weddings. They were family history. Told a story. 

One Stack had already read. 

He’d walked this whole house actually. From front to back. Had wanted to see exactly what he was about to take from the world. 

“You don’t have to do this son.” 

“Please don’t do this. My grandson has m–money. We have money! Whatever you want!” 

Smoke wouldn’t have agreed with this. 

Wouldn’t have allowed it. 

They’d been running the streets since before their voices started cracking and his brother had always lived by a code. Had always operated off principle. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. But no children. No women. No family that didn’t need to be involved. 

Smoke didn’t like theatrics. Didn’t like mess. He liked clean. Quick. Quiet. In and out. Settle the score, then get ghost. 

Smoke wasn’t here though. And Stack? Stack ain’t play by rules. Certain shit was off limits, yeah.

Right up until it wasn’t. 

“Son, you don’t have to do this.” 

In the living room, along with the sectional and the arm chair and the record player and the fuckin’ family photos, were two kitchen chairs. Back to back, connected by rope. 

Seated in the chairs were Everett and Jaynie Siger. One crying, one refusing to, both about to take their last breath regardless if their cheeks were wet or not.

“My daddy died a long time ago,” Stack focused on Everett. The one that kept calling him son. The one with the salt and pepper beard and tired eyes. Nigga was tired? It was his lucky day then. Stack would have him resting soon. 

“May God rest his soul—”

Nothing had been funny since his brother was killed. That got a smirk out of him though. 

“Nah. His soul not resting where he at.”

Stack was seated on the couch in front of them. Legs spread, elbows on knees, shoulders loose. Grip on his gun tight. He was wrapped in black from head to toe. Wrapped in anger that’d been thrumming beneath the surface for months now. Anger that was starting to leak out — that had him ready to put holes in any and everybody, until he got his hands on the nigga he was looking for. 

The smirk on his face dropped. Body leaned in closer when he spoke next. “Hopefully you and the misses don’t end up where he at. Hopefully y’all been living right,” Stack let that sit for a beat. Then asked like he already knew the answer, “Y’all been living right pastor?” 

“Oh my god,” that was Jaynie. Crying hard. Breathing harder. “Please, my grandson has—” 

“Yo grandson gone be reunited wit’ you, soon as that fuck nigga stop hiding.” 

You know this ain’t right brotha’.

They were the SmokeStack twins for a reason. Ying and yang. One egg, split into two. The literal definition of balance. 

One without the other….one without the other was chaos.

Stack without Smoke was chaos. Hurt and rage personified. Unbridled. Unrestrained. Out of control. 

This ain’t you brotha’.

Smoke had been in the ground for months.

Stack hadn’t felt like himself since they lowered the casket. 

So, maybe it wasn’t him. But it was, what it was. 

Niggas was gon’ pay. By any means necessary. 

His jaw locked. Heart rate ticked up. Legs brought him from sitting to standing.

“Please no. Please God no,” Jaynie cried harder. Snot and tears mixed. Frail ass shoulders shook. 

Old him? May have felt sick about it. But when that image flashed in his head of Smoke on the ground, bleeding out, eyes empty? He felt nothing. No sympathy. No remorse. 

Wouldn’t be giving no grace either.

“This Zion’s doing? Because of something he did?” Everett’s shoulders stayed squared, voice firm, hazel eyes locked on Stack. He refused to waver. Refused to bend. But he was still trying to reason. Not for his sake. For Jaynie. “We don’t know where he is son—” he stopped himself. Corrected his words when Stack’s jaw ticked. “We don’t know where he is. We don’t know what he done did. We don’t fool with him and we don’t support the way he lives. We don’t got nothing to do with this.”

Stack could spot a liar. Cause he was one. And Pastor Everett was lying. He still talked to his grandson. Loved that bitch ass nigga very much. Was close to him. That was enough for his old ass to make Stack’s list.

All 32, golds included, shined as Stack’s lips stretched. As his dimples popped — deep and mean. 

“You ain’t gotta lie to me.” He stepped closer, dropped his head to the side, still smiling all the while. Still hurting. Still hungry for blood. “Tell the truth and shame the Devil pastor.” 

Everett said nothing. 

Prolly’ knew he would meet the same fate either way.  

Stack tsked.

“Or don’t. Bet I still get that nigga.” And suddenly, he wasn’t smiling no more. “And since he making it hard to find him, ima make him come to me.” 

You gone do it, do it clean. One in the head for both of ‘em. No messy shit brotha’.

Smoke had barely blinked before 6 shots were buried in his body. His brother — his heart — was riddled with bullets by the time he took his last breath. 

Wasn’t shit gone be clean about this. 

“Ima make that nigga come get me,” Stack spoke through clenched teeth. Went from standing straight to leaning over. So close to Everett’s face, he could smell the caramel on that niggas breath. “Gon’ drop body after body ‘till that pussy show his face. I don’t give a fuck if I gotta wipe the whole blood line out.” 

And he meant it. Would take mamas, cousins, aunties, uncles, fuckin’ family pets if he had to. Was gone paint this city red behind his brother, now that he was functioning again. Now that he knew who was responsible.

“Oh God!” Jaynie was crying so hard she would have slid out the chair if it wasn’t for the rope holding her up. 

Everett was breathing hard. Eyes stony — with regret and resignation. He swallowed. And then his lips parted. 

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul—”

Stack shook his head. Then raised up straight again. Arm holding the gun? Followed the same path. 

Everett got louder. Kept going.

“—he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake! Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil! For thou art with me! Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me —”

Stack squeezed the trigger. 

And didn’t stop, tell that bitch clicked.

Highland Park has experienced a tremendous loss in the community. 67 year old Everett Siger and 68 year old Jaynie Siger were found murdered last night in their home, both by multiple gunshots to the face and body. This is…absolutely shocking to everyone who knew the couple. Everett and Jaynie were pillars in the community, loved by all, and every single person that I’ve spoken to say they cannot imagine who would do this. As of now, investigators report no witnesses or potential motive — if you have any information at all please contact the hot line below. Investigators stress that no detail is too small. What has happened is gruesome and the violence rippling through the community has to stop. Back to you, Stanley. 

Everyone says the first body is the worst. Supposedly, it turns you inside out. Makes your pulse stutter. Steals your sleep for weeks. 

They say it’s cause you can’t forget the eyes — the fear you see in them right before you send a nigga up to God, the dilation of the pupils, the helplessness that floods a gaze when a mufucka realizes their luck just ran out. 

When bodies drop, the spirit moves on, for better or worse. But the eyes of the dead?  They stick around. Follow you. Like a fucked up token, for every life you take. 

It’s why so many like to shoot from a distance. Why niggas rather drive by and light up a block, than walk a nigga down one on one. It makes it less….personal. A lil easier to deal with. 

Stack didn’t look for easy. Not when it involved taking life. Every breath he stole from a nigga was personal, so he made it a point to get up close. Always had. And every life he took for his brother would be handled the same way. 

The lil white lady on the news shoulda’ saved her breath, cause as long as Smoke was in the dirt, there’d be no stop to the ‘violence rippling through the community’. 

Not when Stack hadn’t even really got started.

Around him, people talked. Wandering who did it and why. Speculating on if 12 would actually put the work in to find who was responsible.

Stack wasn’t worried either way. The only mufucka who’d know the real, was the nigga he was sending the message to. 

“That is so sad,” Emery stood behind the bar — big eyes, freckles everywhere, skin so light it made you side eye her when she said ‘nigga’. Her gaze was on the news, hands busy mindlessly wiping down a glass, while she yapped. “Makes me wonna call my granny right now, just to hear her voice. I could not imagine what I would do if something like that happened to her. I know their whole family is sick right now.”

Stack didn’t chuckle. Not really. Just sipped from his glass and let his mouth move without thinking, “Yeah, niggas love they grandma huh?” 

Emery frowned, head jerking from the direction of the small flat screen towards Stack. “Are you laughing?” She blinked rapidly, just knowing she was imagining the curve to his lips. “I know we call you Nutty, but that’s not funny. That’s someone’s family.” 

He was Stack to most. Nutty to some. Elias to one — when she wasn’t mad at him.

Tighten the fuck up brotha’. What’s funny about a dead granny? Stop bringing attention to the shit. 

Stack wiped the smirk off his face. Then cleaned that shit up. 

“Nah Em, I ain’t laughin’ at that,” he waved her off. “I was just thinking ‘bout some other shit. What happened is fucked up. Rest in peace to ‘em.” 

Emery acted how she looked — innocent, a lil naive, sheltered. A mufucka could convince her the sky was green if they tried hard enough, so she let Stack off the hook easy. Believed what he’d told her, without much thought. 

That was his cue to go though. He’d been here long enough. 

It was the next night, a Wednesday, going on 10, and he’d been at Heat for a couple hours. It was where he went when he wasn’t hugging the block or playing God. Where he went to sip and try to forget. 

Just as he threw a handful of bills on the bar-top, his phone vibrated, and killed any thoughts about forgetting tonight. 

“You found my package?” He had the phone to his ear and was shouldering the door open within seconds. He moved swift, easy. Had glided through the small crowd, like smoke glided through cracks. 

“Nah,” Lou’s voice was low and gritty. Accent just as thick as Stack’s and hugging every word he dropped. “I’m still tracking it for you. When I know wussup wit’ it, you’ll know.” 

There was a beat of silence. 

“That ain’t even why I’m calling though,” Lou kept speaking, as Stack hit the lock on his blacked out Mustang. “Taz went to handle that business he take care of every month.” 

Stack paused, body stilling in the drivers seat, head cocking in question even though nobody could see him. “And?”  

“And she ain’t want it. Well shit —” Lou backtracked. “She ‘ont ever want it. But she refused to take it this time. Told him to get his skinny ass away from her door or she was gone call the bitches in blue,” Lou chuckled like something was funny.

Stack tongued his cheek. Flexed his jaw. Felt his stomach do that weird shit it always did when he was thinking ‘bout her. Then he spoke. 

“I’ll handle it. Just keep yo’ focus on tracking what I need.”

“Will do.” 

The line clicked and Stack was left in silence. 

It’d been a while since he’d seen her. Since he’d let her see him. It hadn't been long enough and at the same time — it’d been too fucking long. 

He’d stepped back for one reason. Had stayed away for another. Ain’t allow himself to think about it much. Ain’t have the capacity to think about it much. 

The way he felt about her never changed though. Even when he ain’t show it. Even when she couldn’t feel it. 

Stack sat there, mind jumping from one problem to the next. Zion still hiding. Annie making shit harder than what it had to be. Smoke in the ground — gone forever.

He got stuck in his thoughts. Had the car turned on, just idling by the curb like he didn’t know better. 

You a sittin’ duck right now Stack. Move brotha’.

Stack moved. Pushed everything but her out his head as he shifted gears and hit the gas. He pulled off reckless, bullying his way into the flow of traffic. 

He had to deal with this tonight, because he couldn’t afford distractions right now. And Annie was his biggest one. 

He’d barely knocked before the door swung open. 

Before Annie was standing in front of him — dark skin, narrowed eyes, set jaw. She had her curls pulled away from her face, natural hair twisted back into her signature style. Had on all black — lounge pants, tank top, long fluffy cardigan — that matched the dark jeans and hoodie he donned. In different circumstances, Stack would have been ready to sink into her. Pull her close, even while she was acting like it got on her nerves, and use her soft ass as his own full body pillow. 

Doing some shit like that didn’t even cross his mind tonight. Sleep, comfort, relaxing — all that was for people who ain’t have a dead brother and a pile of bodies about to accumulate in his honor.  Apparently Annie agreed, because when she finally spoke, it wasn’t to greet him with pleasantries.

“I’m gone tell you like I told yo’ lil errand boy earlier. Get away from my door Stack, before I call the cops.” 

She looked just as mean as she wanted to. Had her arms folded over her heavy chest, her full lips pinched up hard, her shoulders held so tight she was straining her neck.

She was fuckin…perfect. Even when she spit his name like poison. 

“You know you ain’t calling no cops Annie.” Stack had his hood pulled low, protecting him from the light drizzle that’d started on his way over. Had his eyes focused intently on her face. Like he was drinking her in. Or — like he was scared if he let his gaze wander, he’d never wonna leave. “What chu’ threatening Taz for?”

Taz was a young nigga. Had no daddy, a mama that worked three jobs, and too much heart for his own good. Stack looked out for him. Trusted him. Had him dropping money off for Annie every month. Had him taking turns with some other niggas to look out for her. 

Annie’s lips tugged when she heard Stack’s words — not into smile though. Not into anything close to it. 

What you threatening Taz for.

That’s what he was standing in front of her talking about.

“You and Taz, can stay y’all asses away from my apartment.”

Stack shook his head, ignored the shot she’d thrown at him. “Taz ain’t did nothing to you Annie —” 

“Ain’t did nothing but be connected to you,” Annie said it like he was the worst mufucka in the world. “He moving off yo orders. That’s doing enough. I don’t want yo’ money Stack. Don’t want you sticking people outside my complex to watch me. I don’t want shit from you. And I done told every nigga you send over here that.”

She had. And Stack had ignored it. Would keep ignoring it.

His eyes squinted, “I done always had people sitting on you. You know that and you know why. This ain’t nothing new. What you makin’ waves fo’?”

Audacity is what he had. To show up at her door like he hadn’t been missing in action for months. To still expect her to go along with whatever he wanted, like their last conversation hadn’t ended the way it did. 

Annie was mad. Was hurt. And she was also dissecting. Couldn’t help it. No matter how much she wanted to act like she ain’t care, her eyes started roaming anyways. Not hungrily. Carefully. Concerned. 

She was checking for new scars, both seen and unseen. Watching his shoulders and gaging if the weight he’d been carrying had eased any. Studying his hands, like she could see all the damage they’d been causing. All the blood they were about to leave behind. She was taking note of every minute change in his appearance — taking note of the circles under his eyes, the hard lines of his face, the grown out facial hair around his lips. 

He wasn’t taking care of himself and that fact — one she’d already known — did something to her chest. Made it ache. Made it burn. 

For some reason, her gaze kept dropping to his hands. And she didn’t snap out of it, until he slid them in the front pocket of his hoodie, hiding them from view. 

When she looked back up, Stack saw it. Pity. Or at least what he interpreted as pity.

His jaw locked. And he was ready to get out of her space. Something he’d never wanted to do in the past. 

“I ain’t bout to argue wit’ you. When I send somebody by here wit’ money, take it. If my niggas outside watching you, let ‘em. That salt you keep in front of yo’ door ain’t gone protect you from no real threat.”

It was a talent of Stack’s — the emotions he could pull out of her. How quick he could do it.  

“You heard me?” He stepped in when she ain’t answer right away. Impatient. Like he wanted to hear her voice — hear that soft Louisiana accent he’d been missing. Or — like he wanted to get this over with so he could be on his way. So he could get from around her before he fell into her and broke. “Let that nigga do what I send him too. Stop actin’ like this ain’t routine.” 

“It ain’t routine,” Annie matched him step for step. Getting closer. “Having a bunch of niggas taking turns doing yo job. Or what used to be yo’ job. I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need yo money. You not my man. We not together, remember?” 

The last time they talked, it’d gotten loud. Annie screaming about wanting to be there for him. Wanting to be let in. Stack screaming back that what he needed was vengeance, not a punk ass pat on the back. Not talk about prayers and ancestors and healing. 

Stack had spent weeks after Smoke died moving around like a zombie. Like he ain’t even know how to function without his big brother. And then he’d gotten a phone call and snapped out of it. Had went from a zombie to a ghost. Out all hours. So deep in the streets he wasn’t bothering to come up for air. Plotting. Planning. Hurting. And never letting Annie in all the while. 

She’d double down that day they were arguing. Had told him she couldn’t watch him destroy himself. Couldn’t keep trying to be there for someone, who didn’t want it. Couldn’t keep letting him act like she’d died with Smoke. Stack had responded like Stack. Like an asshole. Telling her to get the fuck out if that’s how she felt. Telling her that if she couldn’t ride this shit out with him until he got the niggas who did his brother, she ain’t need to be around — and then nothing. For weeks, until now.  

He still sent money. Still had niggas keeping an eye on her wherever she went. Still had her tabs paid up at the restaurants she frequented. But that was all.

There’d been no conversation. No apology. No acknowledgment. 

And now he was in her face, talkin’ bout routines. Talkin’ bout what she needed to let happen. And looking worse than he had, the last time she saw him. 

Annie wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him.

Annie wanted to slap the fuck out of him. 

—

You not my man. We not together, remember? 

He didn’t actually. He’d told her to get from round him that day. Cause that’s obviously what she’d wanted to do. But he’d never said she wasn’t still his. 

And Stack ain’t really understand why him trying to drop off some money, was turning into this. 

“You really doing this right now?” He had a list of shit he could be taking care of. Had a whole empire to run by himself now — had traps he needed to check on, money to count and distribute, leads to follow because he knew some shit wasn’t right with the way Smoke went out. Knew Zion’s slow ass hadn’t pulled that hit off by himself. 

And instead of handling business, he was here. Going back and forth over some trivial shit.

“This really how you actin’?” He stepped closer, looked down at her while his brows furrowed. “When you know what I got going on? My brother just bled out in my arms, Annie and you wonna bring up old shit?” 

That wasn’t fair. But Stack didn’t fight fair. He never had. 

And even as guilt pooled in her stomach, Annie ain’t back down. She never did. 

It was why they worked. Or — why they didn’t. 

“You don’t get to do that Stack,” her words were as sharp as his. Feet brought her a step closer to him, leaving them chest to chest. She kept stepping in cause she was mad. Kept stepping in cause she missed him. “You don’t get to make me out to be the bad guy, when you ended shit with me—”

“How I end some shit and I’m right here??” His voice was climbing. 

She matched him. “You here to toss yo’ weight around. To tell me what you expect me to do. You not here cause you want to be. You not here to talk—”

“What the fuck is there to talk about Annie?!” 

“You! Us! Smoke!”

0 to 10. That’s how it went with Stack. Cause he didn’t do nothin’ half way. Whether that was lovin’, or fightin’, or making niggas pay.

Restraint was not his game.

And Annie had a bad habit of feeding off that. 

“I know yo brother died! I know you —”

Stack cut her off then, words dead calm. Final. 

“We not talking ‘bout my brother Annie.”

Annie kept going.

“—hurting! I know it feel like yo whole world done stopped, Elias. I know you—”

Stack talked over her. 

“We not talking ‘bout my brother Annie.”

And Annie kept going.

“—feel alone. I know you miss him so fuckin’ much, baby. But you’re not alone Elias. I’m here and I just want to —”

“We not talking about my fuckin’ brother Annie!” 

His voice boomed like thunder. Hard, strained, loud enough to wake the dead.

Loud enough to stop Annie in her tracks. 

Loud enough to make both of them still. 

The only thing moving on Stack was his chest, rising up and down fast. He was breathing hard, had his eyes boring into hers, pupils blown wide with panic and hurt and something else that screamed he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t talking about his brother. Not with her. Not with anyone. 

You ain’t right brotha’. 

He wasn’t talking ‘bout it. 

And Annie…she could accept him not wanting to talk. But she couldn’t accept everything else. Couldn’t accept the shell he was becoming. The distance he’d created between them. The way their relationship was dying, right along with Smoke. 

She didn’t bother hiding the hurt in her voice the next time she spoke.

“Then we ain’t got nothing to talk about at all ‘Lias,” she said it soft. But firm. “I can’t keep doing this —”

“I’m not asking you to do nothing Annie,” Just as fast as the fire between them started blazing, it died out. Stack had his own flame sitting in his chest though. Stepped even closer to her, voice low. Urgent. “I just need you to be here while I work through ‘dis shit. Need you to stay down.”

“The pro’lem is you don’t want me here Elias.” It hurt to meet his stare. She kept looking anyways. “You don’t want me here — not forreal, not in the way that matters — and I ‘ont know what to do with that no more.” 

When Smoke died, it felt like the world stopped. But that’s only what it felt like. Truth was, time didn’t stop for nobody, dead or alive. Stack was forced to keep going. Forced to handle the business he and his brother started, and he’d never admit it, but he’d been drowning under the weight — the pressure, the anger, the loneliness he felt in a world without his twin.  And now this girl was in his face, tryna take the last good thing he had on earth away from him? 

Nah. 

Fuck that. 

“So what,” the rain started picking up as he spoke, Annie’s garden style apartment leaving them open and exposed. “You leavin’ me now?” 

There was a beat of silence. 

Stack’s eyes grew dark. Dangerous. Possessive. 

And Annie….Annie just sounded tired the next time she spoke. Like all the sleepless nights without him were finally catching up to her. 

“You already half way out the door Stack. I’m just closin’ it.”

He said nothing. Until —

“Nah,” he spoke the words out loud this time. Stepped forward when there was no room for him to. Stepped forward and forced Annie back into her apartment. “Fuck that.” 

Two words. Dropped with so much weight, they couldn’t be argued with. 

Stack wasn’t losing her. Not now. Not tonight. Not ever. 

Everyone always talks about the first body. 

No one ever mentions the first loss though.

The first real one. 

Stack had been knee deep in the streets since he was 13 years old. Had been breaking into cars and robbing houses, while other niggas his age was at school, participating in science fairs. 

Had been on the block, exchanging drugs for money, while his peers went house to house selling chocolate bars. 

Had felt the pain of burying a patna that got caught on the wrong block at the wrong time, while other niggas were bitchin’ ‘bout they first heart break.  

Point was, you didn’t stay in the game as long as he had, didn’t get yo hands dirty and climb yo way to the top, without experiencing loss. 

He was never supposed to lose his brother though. 

Was never supposed to have the sound of Smoke choking on blood memorized. 

Was never supposed to know what it felt like to have do this shit without Smoke. 

That’s what kept Stack up at night. Not the lives he took, but the life that was taken from him. 

That’s why he was up now, staring at the ceiling while Annie laid sprawled out on his chest. She was out cold — had her hair all in his face, her leg tucked between his, soft titties pressed against him firmly. 

She was on him like she knew he didn’t plan to stay. 

And she was right. 

Last night, Stack had long stroked her until her eyes were watering and she was takin’ back all that shit she’d said ‘bout quitting on him. 

—

5 hours ago

Annie’s mouth fell open as slick, sloppy, wet sounds filled the room every time he pulled out and dropped dick back into her. Every time he hit that spot she kept on reserve just for him.

“I said, where the fuck you going?” 

His hips snapped forward rough. 

“Nowhere!” 

Stack felt like he was catching his breath and losing it at the same time. Felt like she was cracking him open and making him whole. 

Annie didn’t feel like anything. She really couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t keep her eyes open, couldn’t stop the sounds climbing out of her throat, and it made her mad — how good he felt inside her. How good they felt together. 

This wasn’t going to fix them. Wasn’t gon’ make him talk to her. Wasn't gon’ convince him to let her be there. Wasn’t gon’ pull them back from the edge they were teetering on. Wasn’t gon’ solve anything. 

And yet — 

“I’m not going nowhere Stack — fuck!” 

It felt like it was solving everything.

“Nah, what’s my name?” 

His hand went to her throat. Not to hurt her, but to feel her. Feel that pulse kicking up against his fingers. Reminding him that she was alive. Whole. His. 

He squeezed gently. Grinded into her nasty. 

“What’s my fucking name Annie?!” 

“Lias please,” Annie was scratching at his back. Her breath mixing with his. Eyes on their way shut again. 

Smack. Smack. Smack.

That was skin on skin. Wet pussy wrapped around hard dick. Souls remembering who they belonged too — even when worldly shit tried to get in the way. Tried to intercept destiny. 

“You leaving me?” His teeth were clenched. Sweat dripping off his temples. Dimples caved in deep. 

She should.

“No Lias.” 

Smack. Smack. Smack.

“Yo’ pulse going crazy Annie.” His hand flexed. “That’s what a nigga do to you?” 

“Yes Lias.” 

“Open them pretty ass eyes.” 

She listened. Felt her heart rate kick up more. 

Stack’s stare was frozen on her. Lids low, deep brown orbs hot and unblinking. 

“I love the fuck out chu’,” his hips never stopped moving. Dick never quit hitting her spot. “Let me focus. Let me get these niggas Annie. Let me figure out how to run this shit witout Smoke. Then I swear you got me baby. I swear I got you.” 

Annie didn’t believe that. Didn’t believe she’d ever really have him again. Not all of him. Not with his brother gone. But she clenched around him anyways. Pulled him closer and nodded her head, because Elias always managed to make lies sound so sweet.

—

Present 

Stack wasn’t sure he had a heart no more. Felt like that mufucka got left in the dirt with Smoke. But whatever he did have left was Annie’s. 

So when he told her he loved her last night, he wasn’t lying. He did love her. Loved her the best way he could. 

Don’t fuck up a good thing brotha’. 

But he couldn’t stay. Couldn’t pour into her the way she wanted. Not right now. Not with all the shit he had on his plate. Not with certain niggas still walking around breathing. Not when he needed to figure out what the fuck happened that night. 

And she had to understand that. 

He’d managed to slide out from under her, had pulled his shirt back over his head, grabbed his hoodie, and was ready to hit the block when the sun hadn’t even risen yet. 

That was the type of timing he was on these days. 

Annie shifted in bed, sighed in her sleep, and Stack threw a long look at her over his shoulder. She was sprawled out, hugging his pillow now, lips frowned up like she could sense he wasn’t next to her no more. 

“Luh’ you,” his voice was low, wasted, cause she wasn’t even awake to hear it. He took her in for a second longer and then moved. Out of her bedroom and into the kitchen. He grabbed a water out the fridge, left a thick stack of hundreds on the table, and was locking up behind him before she had the chance to open her eyes. 

They’d be ight. 

Wouldn’t nothing else be though, if he ain’t get back to business. 

You need to check on the trap over east brotha’. Money ain’t been right wit’ it.

Stack closed his eyes. Let his throat tighten. Just for a second.

And then he started his car. And headed east.

A/n — Ummm RIP Everett and Jaynie? 😬 If you made it to the end, I hope you enjoyed. I would actually really love to hear yall thoughts on this lol I was very nervous to post it, so if you feel so inclinedddddd let me know sumn 👀🫶🏾

—

—

—

The morning light pressed through the thin curtains, warm and insistent. Annie stirred first, blinking sleep from her eyes. For a moment, the heaviness in her body felt like a dream, soft and hazy until she rolled her head to the side and saw him.

Stack. Stretched out on her small bed, broad chest rising and falling with each rumbling snore. His arm was still draped over her waist, heavy and protective even in sleep. Her breath caught, her heart stumbling against her ribs as the night before rushed back at her in vivid detail.

Heat flushed her cheeks. Her lips still tingled from his kisses. Her thighs still ached. But then reality hit her like a cold splash of water. He was still here and it was the next day. And she hadn’t done her chores yet.

Annie carefully wriggled out from beneath his arm, his weight making it tricky, and reached for her robe. She slipped it over her shoulders and cinched it tight, glancing back at him. He didn’t stir, just snored low and steady, one hand flung over the edge of the bed.

“Lord,” she whispered to herself, pressing a hand over her chest. If Lightning found out. If he so much as saw Stack coming down those stairs…She didn’t even finish the thought. She rushed to the door, barefoot and quiet, and eased it shut behind her.

Downstairs, the brothel was already awake. The soft clatter of dishes, the swish of brooms, and the low chatter of women filled the air. The other girls were busy with the morning cleaning of dusting, sweeping, wiping down tables.

Annie slipped in silently, head down, picking up a rag to join the rhythm without a word. Her hands moved, scrubbing at wood she barely saw, her mind a swirl of last night and the dangerous risk of this morning.

A couple of the girls glanced at her, whispers following her movements. One of them tried to catch her eye with a smile, another nudged her shoulder lightly in passing, teasing for her usual morning chatter. But Annie just shook her head, lips pressed tight, and kept her focus on the work.

She prayed Stack would stay asleep just until Lightning left the building. But of course, Annie’s luck ran thin the moment the door slammed open.

Lightning’s heavy boots thudded across the floorboards, his presence dragging the air down with him. Every girl in the room stilled, their chatter dying as quick as if it had never been. Annie froze too, rag still in her hand, praying he’d walk past her. He didn’t.

His dark gaze cut straight to her, and his mouth curled into something sharp. “Annie.”

She stiffened, looking up just enough to show she’d heard him.

“You got a whole list today,” he said, voice low and mean, each word like a shove. “I want my clothes washed. Every last piece. You gon’ take your ass to the store, by yourself, get what’s on the list I give you. You gon’ scrub every inch of the pit, then you gon’ clean them spare rooms, top to bottom.”

Annie’s throat bobbed. That wasn’t her work. That wasn’t ever her work.

His lip curled when he saw the hesitation flicker across her face. He stepped closer, towering over her. “And don’t think you gettin’ off easy ‘cause it's morning. I ain’t leavin’ today. You hear me?”

Her stomach dropped. Normally, he would be headed out for the day with business in town and men to see. It was the only reason she could breathe through most mornings.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered, eyes on the floor.

He leaned down, his breath brushing the top of her head. “I want my food now, too. And don’t none of these girls lift a finger to help you.” He turned his head just enough for his voice to slice across the room, aimed at the rest of them. “Or the consequences gon’ be worse.”

Annie felt the eyes of the other women on her, wide with pity but frozen in fear. She swallowed down the sting in her throat, pressing the rag tighter in her hand like it might ground her.

“Now get to it,” Lightning finished, his voice final, daring her to falter.

Annie nodded quick, her steps shaky as she moved toward the back, her chest tight with the weight of all that work, and the crushing thought of Stack still asleep upstairs.

The kitchen was too quiet, just the scrape of knives against the cutting board and the low hiss of the skillet on the stove. Annie moved quick, slicing onions with shaking hands, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds as if Lightning might barge in at any moment. She dropped the onions in the pan, the sizzle rising like her nerves, and added the meat with a pinch of seasoning.

Her apron was damp from washing greens, her robe sleeves pushed back, curls sticking to her face from the heat of the stove. She kept telling herself: Don’t burn it. Don’t be slow. Don’t give him a reason.

When the food was done, she plated it neat and proper, wiped the edge of the dish, and carried it out to Lightning. He didn’t thank her. Just leaned back in his chair, gave her one of those looks that made her stomach drop, and waved her off like she was nothing more than a servant.

Annie forced herself to keep her pace steady until she cleared the corner, then all but ran for the stairs. She slipped into her room and shut the door soft behind her, chest rising and falling fast.

Stack was still there, perched on the edge of the bed. This time his elbows were on his knees, his big frame bent like he’d been pacing in his head the whole time she’d been gone. He looked up at her the moment she came in, worry written plain across his face.

“You’re back,” he said low, like he’d been holding his breath.

She tried to smile, but her hands were already tugging at the ties of her apron, shrugging it off as she crossed the room. “You ain’t went nowhere, right?”

He shook his head. “Nah. But Annie…” His gaze lingered on her face, searching. “You look tired.”

She laughed softly, breathless, slipping out of her robe and reaching for a clean dress from the little wardrobe in the corner. “Tired is my middle name these days.”

Stack’s eyes followed her, but not in hunger this time. Just in the quiet way a man watches somebody he cares about, making sure they’re alright.

As she tugged the dress over her head and smoothed it down, he spoke again. “I don’t like sittin’ here while he got you running like this. Don’t sit right with me. Why you won’t let m-”

She cut him off, shaking her head hard, curls bouncing. “No. No, you don’t understand. That man…” Her voice caught, and she dropped it even lower, glancing over her shoulder toward the hall like Lightning might already be listening. “He’s a type of crazy I ain’t never seen before. He’ll put his hands on anybody who cross him, and he don’t care how bad he hurts ‘em. You get caught up with him, Stack and you won’t walk away the same. If you walk away at all. But I don’t wanna think about all that.”

He leaned back on his hands, eyes never leaving hers. “Then we talk. Keep your mind off him for a little while.”

She smiled faintly, slipping onto the chair in front of her vanity to button the rest of her dress. “Talkin’ sounds good.”

Lightning took one sip of his sweet tea, smacked his lips, and frowned. It was too bitter. He swirled the glass like it was the drink’s fault, then sat forward in his chair, eyes scanning the floor.

“Annie!” His voice cracked like a whip across the quiet brothel. The women froze mid-step, polishing glasses and sweeping, eyes darting nervously toward the stairwell. No answer.

He leaned back, jaw ticking, then called again louder this time. “Annie! Don’t make me say it again!”

Still nothing. The room grew heavy with silence. A couple of the younger girls exchanged panicked glances. They’d seen her slip up the stairs earlier, moving quick like she always did when she wanted to disappear. But none of them dared point him in that direction. Telling on Annie would feel like tossing her straight to the fire.

Lightning stood, pushing his chair back with a screech against the floorboards. “Alright then,” he growled, striding toward the staircase. His boots hit hard against the wood, each step making the women’s stomachs turn.

At the bottom of the stairs, he tilted his head, voice dropping into that dangerous calm. “You got two seconds to come out that room, Annie. Two seconds before I come up there and drag you out myself.”

The whole house seemed to hold its breath. And still no reply.

Lightning put his foot on the first step, shoulders squaring as he prepared to climb. But before he could, three of the women rushed forward, nearly tripping over each other to block his path.

“Wait, wait, wait. Lightning, just…just give her a minute,” one of them stammered, hands raised like she could calm him down. 

Another chimed in quickly, her words tumbling out: “She–she busy. Probably just changin’ or somethin’, you know Annie always movin’ slow when she gettin’ ready.”

Lightning narrowed his eyes, head tilting. He didn’t like being intercepted. Didn’t like the way their voices shook. He could smell fear, and it made his suspicion flare.

“Now why,” he drawled, gaze cutting across the little group of women, “are y’all actin’ like I ain’t got a right to check on what’s mine?”

The women froze, caught between protecting Annie and protecting themselves. Lightning’s eyes flicked from face to face, studying them with the kind of cold calculation that made everyone in the room’s stomach knot. And his patience snapped like a dry twig.

“Move.” His voice came low, deadly.

The women didn’t budge, their bodies tense, eyes wide but firm. They weren’t stupid, he could tear through them if he really wanted, but if they let him up those stairs right now, Annie was finished.

Lightning’s lip curled. “I said move!” He shoved one of them to the side, hard enough to make her stumble against the wall. Another woman darted forward, palms against his chest. Her hands trembled as she pushed.

“Y-you can’t go up there,” she blurted.

That only made it worse. His head snapped toward her, fury sparking in his eyes. “The hell you mean, I can’t?!” His voice rose, booming through the brothel like thunder. He shoved another out the way, glaring down at them all. “You think you can tell me what I can’t do? In my house?!”

The girls’ stuttering voices overlapped, desperate:

“She–she’s changin’, Lightning.”

“Just give her a minute, that’s all.”

“She’s gon’ be right down, swear it.”

Lightning’s nostrils flared as he glared at each of them. The more they stumbled over their words, the angrier he got. He wasn’t stupid. Something was off.

“You bitches think I don’t see through this?” He jabbed a finger at them, eyes black with rage. “Standin’ here, blockin’ me, stutterin’ like some fools. You better hope y’all not lyin’, ‘cause if I find out you are…” His threat trailed off, but the weight of it hung in the air heavier than anything else.

For a long, terrifying second, it looked like he was gonna blow straight past them. But then, with a sharp shake of his head, Lightning spat out a curse and turned on his heel.

“Fine. Let her slow ass come down herself. She don’t show in five minutes, I’m draggin’ every last one of y’all up there with me.”

He stormed off toward the pit, boots hitting hard against the floor. The girls stood frozen until he disappeared into the shadows, his muttering curses fading with him. Only then did they exhale, shoulders sagging, hearts pounding in their chests. They’d managed to hold him back, barely. But they all knew Lightning’s suspicion wasn’t going away. Next time, they might not be able to stop him.

Upstairs, Annie’s hands were trembling as she tied the sash of her robe. The morning light creeping through the window made her realize just how long she’d been up here with Stack. Too long. Lightning was bound to notice.

She glanced at Stack, sitting there on the edge of her bed, shirt half-buttoned, watching her with that steady look in his eyes. He wasn’t smiling this time, and that made her heart thump harder.

“I been up here too long,” she muttered, tugging the robe tighter around her. Her voice was soft but quick, her words tumbling out in a rush. “He’s gon’ be lookin’ for me.”

Stack leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Then let me—”

“No.” She cut him off fast, her eyes darting to the door as if Lightning might appear any second. “You stay put. Don’t make a sound ‘til I figure out how to get you outta here.”

He frowned, not liking it one bit. His jaw flexed, like he wanted to argue, but Annie moved toward him and put her hand to his chest. The touch lingered for just a moment longer than she meant it to.

“I mean it, Stack.” Her voice cracked at the edges, equal parts fear and care. “He can’t catch you here. He can’t catch us.”

Stack covered her hand with his, but there was nothing he could say that would change her mind. She squeezed his chest once, pulled her hand away, and turned for the door.

Every step down that hallway felt like she was walking out to meet danger head-on. But she had no choice.

By the time Annie made it down the last step, the house had gone still, until Lightning’s eyes cut straight to her. His stare was sharp enough to make her stomach twist, and before she could even breathe, his voice cracked through the quiet.

“Everybody get out here! Right now!”

The sound was so loud, so sharp, it rattled the walls. Within seconds, the whole house broke into motion. Shoes slapping against floorboards, doors slamming, chairs scraping across the floor as the women came rushing in from every direction. It sounded like a mad house, chaos pulling itself together under the weight of his command.

Annie stayed rooted where she was, heart pounding, trying to keep her face calm. But Lightning hadn’t stopped staring at her, not once. His gaze was heavy and mean, like he could see every thought running through her head.

She clasped her hands in front of her, willing them not to shake, trying to slow her breathing. But she could feel the other women glancing between them, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Lightning stood with his arms crossed, his glare sweeping over the room like a storm cloud ready to break. “Tonight gon’ be a hard night,” he barked, his tone low and sharp enough to cut. “And I don’t wanna hear no complaints. You hear me?”

The room was dead quiet, every woman standing stiff, nodding quickly.

He started handing out assignments, his voice ringing out with no room for question. “You, work the floor. You, in the box. You two behind the bar. Don’t none of y’all slack, cause I’ll know.”

The women moved when told, relief passing over their faces once they’d been claimed by their duties. But when the last assignment was handed out, Annie was still standing there empty-handed.

Lightning’s mouth curled into a slow smirk, and Annie’s stomach knotted tight. “And as for you, Annie,” he dragged it out, enjoying the way her shoulders tensed. “I got something real special for you. But first, you gon’ need to get yourself lookin’ right ‘cause right now, baby girl, you ain’t lookin’ your best.”

The room stayed still. Some of the women flicked quick glances at Annie, pity in their eyes, but no one dared breathe too loud.

Annie felt heat rise to her face. Normally she’d never open her mouth when he was like this, but something in her pushed. “What am I gonna be doing?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it carried enough for the whole room to hear.

That only made Lightning’s smirk grow wider, darker. He crooked a finger, and against every warning screaming inside her, Annie stepped closer. His hand was on her waist in an instant, pulling her against him so everyone could see.

He leaned down, his voice dropping low but carrying just the same. “Annie here,” he said, tightening his grip on her waist, “gon’ be takin’ care of a special guest tonight.”

The words fell heavy, making the room shift with uneasy silence. Annie froze in his grip.

Lightning’s smirk deepened, his grip on Annie’s waist firm enough to make her stomach twist. “Matter fact,” he said, turning his head toward the crowd of women. “Marcie and Sadie, y’all go upstairs with her and fix her up real nice. I want one of them pretty little updos she save for holidays.”

Annie’s breath caught. Those styles were reserved for rare nights, the kind where she wanted to feel like herself, not someone’s property. Hearing him demand it made her chest burn.

He gave Annie a little shake, just enough to remind her who was in charge. “I even got you somethin’ new to wear. ” His smile turned mean. “One of the girls’ll bring it up to your room in a bit. You gon’ look perfect when my guest arrives.”

The room was quiet, but Annie caught the quick flicker of eyes, Marcie and Sadie’s especially. It was luck, or fate, that he’d chosen them, the same women who’d covered for her the night before. Lightning didn’t notice their unease.

He finally released Annie with a light shove, then raised his voice to the room. “Now get movin’. I don’t wanna see nobody standin’ round when there’s work to do.”

Chairs scraped, shoes clattered against the floor, and some women rushed upstairs alongside Annie. Others scattered to their posts, doing their best not to look back. Annie walked stiffly, her throat dry, every step toward the stairs feeling heavier. Marcie and Sadie trailed close, one of them brushing her hand against Annie’s arm as they went, just enough to steady her without being noticed.

When they reached Annie’s room, the silence was thick enough to choke on. Stack was still sitting where she’d left him, but he didn’t say a word. He just sat stiff and watched through the corner of his eye as they set to work.

Neither woman spoke. Their hands moved fast and practiced, gathering Annie’s hair, smoothing it, twisting it into one of those elegant updos Lightning asked for. The combs clicked softly, pins sliding into place. Annie sat still, staring at her lap, her throat tight. She could feel Stack’s eyes on her, but he stayed quiet.

When the last pin slid home, there was a knock. Another girl slipped in, her arms full of fabric. She laid the new outfit across Annie’s bed. It was a dress and not just any dress, but a richer and more tailored one than her usual madam gowns. It was cut to hug her curves and shimmer under the lamps. The sight of it made Annie’s stomach turn.

By the time night settled in, the brothel was alive. The air was thick with cigar smoke, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Men leaned back in chairs with whiskey in their hands and greedy eyes on every woman that passed. The girls floated through it all, collecting coin with just a smile, a touch, a laugh.

Annie wasn’t smiling. She kept her eyes sharp, waiting and watching. Lightning had finally stopped hovering so close, distracted with a card game in the pit, and she knew this was her only chance.

She slipped toward the back, Stack moving right behind her, quiet as a shadow. His hand brushed hers, then locked tight, his grip warm and steady, as if he could feel the tremor in her pulse. Neither of them spoke as they weaved between the bustle until the hallway cleared. Annie pushed open the back door, the cool night air rushing against her heated skin.

Once they were safely outside, Stack tugged her close and pressed his mouth to hers. It was quick, urgent, but full of everything he couldn’t say in the middle of that house. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers.

“Baby, if anything goes wrong tonight, you come to the boarding house,” he whispered, voice low and firm. “I don’t care what time it is. You come find me. Promise me that.”

Annie could feel how serious he was, how much it cost him to let her go back inside. She swallowed, smoothed her thumb along his knuckles, and forced a small, tired smile.

“I’ll be fine,” she murmured, even if her voice wavered. “Don’t worry yourself.”

Before he could argue, she kissed him again, softer this time, then gave his hand a quick squeeze and pushed him toward the shadows. Annie stood there, watching until his figure disappeared down the dark street. Then she turned her back, took a deep breath, and stepped back inside.

She slipped back into her role with practiced ease, the dress hugged her body just right as she made her rounds. If she couldn’t escape her cage, then she would at least control it.

She checked on the girls, smoothing a curl here, whispering encouragement there, her sharp eyes catching when a regular got too handsy or when a man tried to slip past without paying enough. Annie had a way of commanding the room without lifting a finger. Her laugh rolled like honey, her smile kept the men chasing, and her words were sharp enough to keep them all in line.

Coins stacked in her hands before she even touched a man. A glance, a sultry tilt of her head, a brush of her voice and it was enough. Men practically spilled bills into her palm, too dazed by the shine in her brown eyes to realize they’d been seduced without so much as her fingertip grazing them.

For a little while, she was the light of the floor, her presence keeping things smooth and controlled. But then the doors swung open.

The noise of the brothel seemed to dull for a moment as a man and a woman entered together. They weren’t like the regulars. No, these two carried themselves with a weight that immediately shifted the room. Their clothes were sharp, clean, expensive. The man’s gaze was cutting, like he could see every secret in the place, while the woman’s poise was so commanding she didn’t even have to speak to silence those around her.

They didn’t look like they belonged in a brothel. They looked too powerful, too dangerous, too untouchable. The girls who passed by slowed their steps, their laughter fading into uneasy murmurs. Even the men who had been loudest a moment ago lowered their voices, sneaking glances at the pair but not daring to approach.

Annie froze mid-step, her pulse kicking up. Whoever they were, they weren’t here for pleasure. They were here for something else, and she had a sick feeling deep in her stomach that it had everything to do with her.

She watched them as they looked around and it was like Lightning appeared out of nowhere. One second Annie had eyes on the strangers, and the next, he was there with a wide grin spread across his face as if Christmas had just come early.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he boomed, striding toward the newcomers. “Ain’t y’all a sight for sore eyes.”

The man barely twitched a smile, a scar tugging along his jawline, while the woman didn’t bother at all. She stood tall, shoulders squared, a gun resting on each hip like they were born there. Annie noted the pants and the hat tipped just enough to shadow her sharp eyes. She didn’t look like the painted ladies on the floor. She looked like trouble.

The man was cut from the same cloth. He had a quiet steadiness that screamed outlaw without him having to say a word. His coat was dusty from the trail, his boots heavy, and even the way he scanned the room made Annie’s skin prickle like he was weighing everyone’s worth and finding them lacking.

Lightning, on the other hand, was grinning wide like they were long-lost kin. He clapped the man on the back, dipped his chin respectfully toward the woman, then his gaze flicked to Annie.

“You,” he barked, jerking his chin for her to come over.

Annie’s pulse jumped, but her feet moved anyway. Every step across the floor felt like walking toward a gallows. She felt their eyes on her, two sharp, cutting stares that seemed to see right through the satin robe she wore.

When she reached them, Lightning wrapped a casual arm around her waist, his grip tight enough to remind her she wasn’t going anywhere. “Why don’t we all take this somewhere quieter?” he suggested, voice smooth but brimming with command.

Lightning led them across the floor, Annie in tow. The buzz of the brothel dimmed behind them until they reached the far back corner, a heavy pillar half-hiding the space from curious eyes. A table waited there, worn wood, a lantern throwing crooked shadows across it.

“Sit,” Lightning ordered, gesturing.

The strangers didn’t hesitate. They slid into their seats with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact with Annie. She shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny but lowered herself beside Lightning when he tugged her down.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the clink of glasses and muffled laughter from the main floor. But Annie could feel the tension. Those outlaw eyes crawling over her like they were searching for something. She couldn’t tell if she wanted to shrink smaller or demand to know why they were looking at her like that.

The table felt colder than it should have, the lanternlight casting harsh shadows across Lightning’s face as he leaned back, casual like he was dealing cards. His hand never left Annie’s waist, though. It was possessive, like she was an object he was showing off, not a woman sitting right there.

“She’s one of my best,” Lightning started, voice smooth and proud. “Sharp as a tack and runs the floor like clockwork. Don’t give me too much trouble neither.” He smirked, giving Annie a little squeeze at her hip.

Annie’s brow furrowed, but she bit her tongue.

The outlaw woman tipped her head, sharp eyes never leaving Annie. “She temperamental?” Her voice was low, steady. “Got any fire in her, or she docile?”

Lightning chuckled, deep and ugly. “She got some spark, sure. Wouldn’t be Annie if she didn’t. But I broke her in good. She listens when it counts.”

The outlaw man finally spoke, his tone clipped, businesslike. “She loyal?”

“Loyal as they come,” Lightning drawled, tapping ash from the end of his cigar. “I raised her up in this place. Gave her a roof, food, clothes. Everything she is, she owes to me. Ain’t that right, Annie?”

His eyes cut to her, sharp, daring her to speak. Annie’s mouth went dry. Her heart thumped against her ribs, but she only gave the smallest nod, confused and off-balance.

The outlaw woman’s gaze narrowed. “She look like she’s got a mind of her own.”

Lightning’s grin widened. “Oh, she got plenty of her own thoughts. But she knows better than to let ’em get in the way of business.” His thumb stroked her side like he was petting something he owned. “Her body’s good, too. Never had a complaint. And she knows how to keep a man happy without makin’ it feel like work.”

Annie felt her face heat up with anger, but she kept her eyes down. The conversation rolled on like she wasn’t even there, the strangers asking more questions, Lightning answering with easy pride, selling her like she was livestock.

The more they talked the more Annie couldn’t take it anymore. Sitting there, listening to them bargain over her like she was cattle for sale. Her blood boiled hot under her skin. Her hands clenched tight in her lap until her knuckles ached. Finally, she snapped, her voice shaking but loud enough to cut through the smoky air.

“What’s goin’ on here, Lightning?” she demanded, eyes flashing between him and the outlaw pair.

The woman outlaw leaned back in her chair, cool as ever. “What’s goin’ on is simple,” she said. “Your boss here sent for us a few days ago. Said he wanted us to come take you off his hands. Take you on back with us.”

Annie blinked, her breath catching. “Take me–what?”

The woman’s tone stayed even, matter-of-fact. “He told us he had some unwanted guests hangin’ around, and he was worried you’d run off with ’em. He said if you disappeared, no one would know where you’d gone.”

The words struck like a slap. Annie felt heat rise up her neck, her stomach twisting. She whipped her head toward Lightning, who only sat there smug, cigar smoke curling lazily from his lips. That was it. That was the last straw.

“You did what?” she exploded, standing so fast her chair screeched against the floorboards. Her voice cracked but carried, sharp enough that nearby girls paused in their work to listen. “You tryin’ to send me off like I’m somethin’ you can just trade? I been doin’ everything you tell me since the day I walked through that door! Even when I didn’t want to, I still did it because you said so!”

Lightning’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t interrupt.

Her chest was heaving now, tears burning behind her eyes though she refused to let them fall. “Ain’t I been punished enough? Ain’t I? You’re always so damn rough on me, rougher than anyone else in this house, and it ain’t fair. If it was any other girl in here, you’d let her walk right out that door if some man wanted her. But me? You keep me on a leash, watchin’ me every second like you got some claim. Like you can tell me what to do with my own life, my own body!”

Her voice rose to a full-blown yell, echoing across the brothel floor. Some of the girls downstairs froze mid-step, their heads lifting toward the back corner where the commotion came from.

“I’m not yours, Lightning! I ain’t never been yours! And I won’t let you sell me off like some prize mare!”

She was breathing so hard it hurt, her chest rising and falling as if the words themselves had ripped out of her. Lightning sat back in his chair, stunned for once, his eyes dark and his mouth set in a thin, angry line.

The outlaw woman raised her brows, intrigued. The man simply crossed his arms, waiting.

But Annie didn’t give them the satisfaction of another word. With a furious swipe at her damp cheeks, she spun on her heel, skirts swishing, and stormed across the floor. Every eye that caught hers quickly looked away. She hit the stairs without hesitation, boots thundering on the steps as she vanished upstairs, leaving a trail of silence behind her.

Lightning’s hand clenched on the arm of his chair, and though his face was calm, the muscle in his jaw jumped with barely contained rage.

Annie slammed her door the moment she reached her room, the echo rattling through the hallway. Her hands shook as she tore the pins from her hair, tossing them across the floor until they scattered like tiny bullets. She paced the length of the room, her chest still heaving, the sound of her boots sharp against the wood.

She couldn’t get the image out of her head of Lightning sitting there cool as ice, talking about her like she was a product. Like she didn’t have a name, a voice, a choice.

Her hand caught the edge of her vanity and she swept it clean with a sharp cry, bottles and brushes clattering to the floor. She pressed both hands against the wood, head bent, shoulders trembling. Then she pushed away, storming to her trunk.

She started yanking dresses from the wardrobe, some landing in a messy heap on the bed, others tossed straight into the open trunk. Her hands moved fast, reckless, like if she slowed down even a little she’d collapse. At one point she grabbed a perfume bottle and hurled it against the wall. Glass shattered and the sharp scent filling the air.

Between the throwing and the packing, Annie kept circling back to cleaning. Folding what she’d thrown, straightening what she’d knocked over, then sweeping it aside again in the next fit of anger. It wasn’t neat or orderly. It was desperate, like she was fighting two battles at once, the part of her that wanted to run and the part of her that couldn’t let go.

Every so often she stopped, staring at the pile in the trunk with her chest rising and falling like she’d just finished a sprint. Her hands hovered over the fabric, trembling, but then she’d turn away again with a bitter scoff and grab something else to throw.

By the middle of the night, her room looked like a storm had blown through. A half-packed bag was on the bed, broken glass in the corner, and clothes scattered everywhere. Annie sat on the edge of the mattress, face buried in her hands, furious tears finally slipping through her fingers.

She whispered to herself, almost like a vow, “I ain’t lettin’ him do this to me no more.”

Meanwhile, the brothel floor was eerily quiet. The lamps were still burning but the usual laughter and chatter went absent. Lightning had kicked the last of the men out early, his mood foul enough that none of the girls dared speak as they gathered in the parlor. Chairs were out of place, bottles half-full on tables, but no one moved to clean just yet.

The silence stretched until one of the older girls, Ruby, stepped forward. She’d been there almost as long as Annie, long enough that her voice carried weight with the others. Her hands were steady on her hips, her eyes sharp as she looked Lightning dead in the face.

“Enough’s enough, Lightnin’.” Her voice cut through the room, clear and strong. “You been runnin’ Annie ragged. You too hard on her and you know it.”

The rest of the girls stiffened, eyes darting between her and the man leaning against the bar. Lightning didn’t move, but his jaw ticked. Ruby pressed on.

“She deserves to breathe, same as the rest of us. You want her to stay? Then let her live a little outside of you. She ain’t some toy you can lock away, or send off when you feel like it.”

Lightning’s eyes narrowed, but still he said nothing.

Ruby crossed her arms. “We don’t like how you been treatin’ her. And what you tried tonight by tryin’ to send her away behind her back? That was real low.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and slowly the others nodded. One by one, soft voices rose up behind her. “She right.” “Annie don’t deserve that.” “If she go, we go too.”

The small chorus of agreement built, not loud, but steady, and it pressed in on Lightning from all sides.

Ruby took one step closer. “You think on that, Lightnin’. ‘Cause Annie may be the one you ridin’ so hard, but we all feel it. And if she walks out that door… we walk with her.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the crackle of the oil lamps. Lightning’s dark gaze flicked over the women, his women. His jaw worked, but he didn’t spit fire back. Instead, he turned away, shoulders stiff, and walked down the hall without a word.

The girls let out a collective breath the second he was gone, the tension draining like air from a balloon. Ruby shook her head and muttered, “Man better start rememberin’ we human, not property.”

The sun had barely cleared the horizon, yet the brothel was already alive with the soft sounds ofbrooms against floorboards, linens shaking out fresh on the lines, and laughter slipping easy between the girls after a rare full night’s rest. The air felt lighter than it had in weeks.

Then as always Lightning walked in, and every broom stilled and every laugh cut short. He wasn’t storming in like usual, all harsh edges and sharp words. No, he had a massive bouquet of flowers cradled in his arms, so big the blooms looked ridiculous against the grit of his hands. His dark eyes swept the room once, searching.

“Where is she?” His voice was steady.

The girls traded looks as footsteps creaked down the stairs. Annie wasn’t in her usual robe or work dress. She was in travel clothes with her best, clean and sturdy, bag strapped to her shoulder.

Lightning’s face dropped. For the first time in years, there was no authority in his stance. Just pure panic.

“Annie.” His voice cracked on her name. He strode forward quick, thrusting the flowers into her arms. “Baby girl, don’t do this. Don’t leave me.”

The room froze. No one had ever seen him practically beg and plead like this.

“You can have whatever you want, I swear it.” His hands fluttered helplessly in the air before finding her arms. “I’ll leave you be, I’ll give you space, I won’t ride you no more. You like that twin boy comin’ round? Fine. I’ll let him. I know he was in your room last night,” his jaw clenched, but his eyes softened, “and I don’t even care ‘bout that, not if it means you stay here.”

The bouquet trembled in Annie’s hands.

Lightning leaned closer, his voice dropping low enough that only the girls nearest could catch it. “And the other one?” His lip curled. “I know you don’t want him here, not after the mess he pulled. And I don’t want him here either. He try somethin’ on you again, I’ll put him in the ground myself. You got my word.”

A stunned silence pressed against the walls. The girls stood frozen in doorways and corners, staring at the impossible. Lightning, the man who never bent for no one, standing there raw, pleading with Annie like he’d break in two if she took another step toward that door.

And Annie just gripped the bouquet so tight her knuckles went pale. Her bag was still strapped to her shoulder, but her feet wouldn’t move.

Her brows pinched together as she looked at him, then at the flowers, then back again. “Lightning what is this? Why you sayin’ all this?” Her voice wavered, halfway between disbelief and hurt.

Lightning reached for her hand, his rough fingers twitching against the soft back of hers. “Cause I mean it. I ain’t lettin’ you walk outta here.”

She blinked fast, stepping back so he couldn’t touch her. “But…but just yesterday you was mad at me. You was yellin’, punishin’ me, treatin’ me like I was nothin’.” Her eyes glistened. “And now you talkin’ like I’m the most important thing to you. I don’t understand.”

Her voice cracked on that last word, and the girls around them all held their breath.

Lightning’s jaw worked, his nostrils flaring like he wanted to bark back but couldn’t. His shoulders sagged under the weight of her confusion, and he said, almost broken, “Cause you are the most important thing to me, Annie. You always been. I just ain’t never known how to show it.”

Annie shook her head, still hugging the flowers to her chest, her voice small and trembling. “I don’t know what you want from me, Lightning… I don’t know who you expect me to be.”

The words fell heavy into the silence.

Every girl in the room looked from Annie to Lightning and back again, their faces just as bewildered as hers, but none dared to speak.

Annie steadied her breath, lowering the flowers to her side. Her voice was firmer now, even though her hands were still shaking. “I think I need time, Lightning. Time away from here, from you, from all this.”

Lightning’s face darkened instantly, his mouth twisting like he’d just been struck. “Time away? Annie, don’t play with me like that,” he snapped, his voice rising, sharp enough to make a few of the girls flinch. “You walkin’ out on me now? After everything–”

“I’m not walkin’ out,” Annie cut him off, surprising even herself with how strong her voice came out. “I can’t breathe in here. Not with the way things been. I need to go, just for a little while, to get my head right.”

Lightning dragged his hands over his face, pacing a jagged line in front of her. His eyes burned, his voice booming, “You leave and you don’t come back, Annie–I swear–” He broke off, chest heaving, before finally spitting, “Fine. Go. But you better bring yourself back here, you hear me? Don’t you dare think you can stay gone.”

Annie didn’t answer. She clutched her bag tighter and turned away before he could see the tears threatening to spill. The girls parted quietly for her as she walked toward the door, each of them holding their breath as if any sound might set Lightning off again.

When the door shut behind her, the brothel seemed to exhale.

Annie’s boots carried her down the street fast, almost like she was afraid Lightning might change his mind and drag her back. She kept her head low, heart racing, but her feet knew exactly where to take her. There were only two boarding houses in town, and one of those was women’s only, and that meant Stack was at the other one.

Annie pushed open the door to the boarding house, her bag weighing heavy on her shoulder. The place smelled faintly of wood polish and coffee, quieter than she expected. Her eyes landed on Rosalie sitting near the window, pen scratching across a small notebook.

Rosalie glanced up at the creak of the door. The second her gaze landed on Annie, her posture straightened and her pen froze mid-stroke. Surprise flickered in her eyes before something sharper slipped in. She closed the notebook slowly and set it on the table, rising to her feet.

For a long moment, they just stared at each other, two women who had known of each other far longer than they had spoken.

Rosalie was the first to break the silence. Her voice was cool, clipped. “If you’re looking for Smoke, he’s not here.” The way she said it carried a bite, like she was daring Annie to deny it.

Annie’s brows lifted, caught off guard. That wasn’t the reception she expected. Her lips parted before she found her voice. “I’m not here for Smoke,” she said firmly, maybe a little too quickly. Her chin tilted, her tone sharpening to match Rosalie’s. “I was actually here for Stack.”

Rosalie blinked, her mouth pressing into a thin line. She hesitated before gesturing lightly toward the stairs. “He’s up in his room. I could take you to him.”

Annie shook her head immediately, tugging her bag higher on her shoulder. “No. I’ll find the room myself.” Without waiting for Rosalie’s reply, she turned toward the staircase, her boots tapping against the wooden steps as she made her way up.

Behind her, Rosalie remained by the table, watching, her expression unreadable.

Annie climbed the last step, her heart pounding faster than her feet could carry her. The hallway stretched out before her, doors lined neatly on either side. She slowed as she walked, scanning and listening, until one particular door made her stop. The faint, familiar trace of Stack’s cologne lingered there. She knew it was his. Her knuckles rapped softly against the wood.

Inside, she heard movement, footsteps, then a drawer shutting. Then the door swung open, and there stood Stack, shirtless, the morning light catching against his chest and the line of his shoulders. His hair was mussed, like he’d only just finished washing up, and he had that easy grin ready on his face as if he was about to tease Rosalie. But then his eyes landed on Annie.

The sly grin slipped away, replaced by something brighter, more alive. His gaze dropped to the bag in her hand, then back to her face, and his whole expression lit up like she was the last thing he expected and the only thing he wanted.

“Annie,” his voice was rough, caught between disbelief and excitement.

Before she could even speak, Stack reached out, sliding an arm around her waist. With a firm, urgent pull, he drew her inside the room. He eased the door shut and, without letting go of her waist, reached down to take the bag from Annie’s hand. He set it gently on the floor by the bed, then turned back to her, brows furrowed with equal parts curiosity and concern.

“Why you here with a bag, huh?” His voice was soft, though the weight behind the question was heavy.

Annie hesitated, glancing down at her hands before answering. “I needed a break from the brothel.” She kept her tone light, careful. She wasn’t ready to spill everything especially not if she planned on going back there.

Stack studied her face for a beat, like he could see straight through her, but he only nodded. “Then you stay here. Far as I’m concerned, you can stay as long as you need to.”

Her eyes flickered up at him, softer now. “I ain’t interrupting anything, am I? If you had plans–”

That pulled a laugh from him, a quick shake of his head. “Annie, you could never interrupt me. I was just fixin’ to head into town, pick up a few things.” He tilted his head, watching her closely. “You wanna come with me?”

She worried her bottom lip, suddenly shy. “I don’t wanna be in the way.”

His lips curved into a slow, crooked smile as he stepped closer, tilting her chin up with his knuckles. “You could never be in my way.” Then he bent down, brushing a tender kiss over her mouth, lingering just long enough to steal her breath before pulling back.

“Go on, make yourself comfortable,” he murmured, running his thumb over her jaw before stepping away. “Lemme finish gettin’ ready.”

He moved back toward the washstand, and Annie watched him go, her heart thudding harder than it had when she knocked on his door.

She moved to sit on the edge of Stack’s bed, her bag tucked by her feet, but her attention wasn’t anywhere near it. Her gaze trailed after him as he moved about the room, bare-chested and unhurried, pulling a shirt from a chair, straightening up a few things on the washstand. He wasn’t doing anything special, but Annie’s breath caught like he was performing just for her.

Her eyes lingered on the broad lines of his shoulders, the way his back flexed with every small movement, the familiar tattoos shifting over his skin. She remembered too vividly how those same arms had wrapped around her, holding her steady, how his hips had pressed into hers with a rhythm that made her lose her breath. The memory stirred something deep in her belly, and before she could stop it, heat spread through her, leaving her both restless and flushed.

Stack didn’t seem to notice her watching, or maybe he did and was choosing not to say anything. Either way, the quiet between them felt thick but not uncomfortable. It wrapped around Annie like a quilt, warm and steady, and for the first time in a long while, silence didn’t mean loneliness. It meant safety.

She shifted slightly, trying to calm her racing thoughts, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. But her gaze kept drifting back to him, her heart tugging at her chest with each stolen memory of the way his touch had made her feel.

Stack turned, tugging his shirt over one arm, and caught Annie’s gaze before she had a chance to look away. A slow grin spread across his face, one of those knowing ones that made her stomach flutter even worse.

“You gone burn a hole clean through me starin’ like that, baby,” he drawled, raising a brow.

Annie blinked, quickly crossing her arms like that would somehow hide the warmth rushing to her cheeks. “I wasn’t starin’,” she said, a little too fast. “Just thinkin’.”

Stack chuckled low, the sound rumbling in his chest as he pulled the shirt on but left it hanging open. “Mm-hmm. Thinkin’, huh? Looked a whole lot like starin’ to me.” He leaned against the dresser, arms folded, watching her squirm with amused eyes.

Annie rolled her eyes, trying to play it off. “You think too highly of yourself.”

“Do I?” he asked, smirking as he pushed off the dresser and stepped closer. “’Cause from where I was standin’, you was about ready to start droolin’.”

Her mouth fell open in mock offense, and she grabbed the nearest pillow off his bed and threw it at him. He caught it easily, laughing, the sound so carefree it filled the room. Annie shook her head, trying to look annoyed, but she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, but her voice was softer, betraying how flustered she really was.

Stack tossed the pillow back onto the bed and bent down just enough so their eyes were level, his grin still tugging at his lips. “Maybe. But you like me this way.”

Her cheeks burned hotter, and she had to look away, pretending to fuss with the blanket again.

The town was already alive when Annie and Stack stepped out, sunlight spilling across the dusty street. Annie felt odd walking beside him instead of under Lightning’s shadow. The general store’s bell jingled as they pushed inside, the smell of wood and dried goods wrapping around them.

Stack moved straight to the counter, casual and sure, while Annie drifted down the aisles, letting her fingers brush over tins, jars, and neatly folded linens. She paused at a small display tucked off to the side. It wasn’t anything fancy just a delicate little trinket, the kind of thing that felt like it belonged to someone with a life freer than hers. She picked it up, turning it over carefully in her hands, imagining what it’d feel like to call it hers.

“Somethin’ catch your eye?” Stack’s voice rumbled low behind her, and Annie jumped, nearly dropping it. He was closer than she realized, towering just a little over her shoulder.

Annie quickly set it back down, smoothing her robe as though that could hide the fact she wanted it. “It ain’t nothin’,” she said lightly. “I can always come back for it.”

Stack tilted his head, watching her with a look that said he wasn’t buying a word of it. But he didn’t press her. Instead, he brushed his fingers against hers in passing and walked on, collecting a few things–soap, some food, a blanket folded neatly under his arm. Annie didn’t notice when his hand slid back to that same trinket she’d been admiring, tucking it with the rest.

By the time she wandered up to him at the counter, he was already paying, his broad frame blocking the small pile of items from her view. The shopkeeper handed over a wrapped bundle, and Stack gave a simple nod, his expression unreadable but his lips twitching like he was holding back a smirk.

Annie looked at him curiously but said nothing, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm as they stepped back out into the sunlit street. She didn’t notice the way his grip tightened protectively around the parcel, or how his gaze softened just a little when he glanced down at her.

From the general store, Stack didn’t slow down until they reached the bakery on the corner, its windows fogged with heat from the ovens inside. The smell of fresh bread and sugar drifted out before they even stepped through the door, making Annie’s stomach twist with a hunger she hadn’t realized she had.

Stack walked straight up to the counter like a man on a mission, his deep voice steady as he ordered a little of everything from pastries to sandwiches stacked thick with meat, and even a jar of honey the baker pulled from a shelf. Annie stood off to the side, blinking at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Stack,” she whispered, tugging lightly at his sleeve. “What you doin’ with all that? You tryin’ to feed half the town?”

He glanced down at her, his mouth quirking into the faintest smirk as he pulled a few coins from his pocket. “I’m feedin’ you,” he said simply. “And me. And maybe whoever else happens to be standin’ around.”

The baker chuckled as he slid the wrapped parcels across the counter. Annie ducked her head, hiding a smile. She wasn’t used to someone stacking comforts into her hands without asking for anything in return.

When Stack picked up the bundle of sandwiches and sweets, he shifted it easily under one arm and reached for her hand with the other. “C’mon,” he murmured. “We’ll find somewhere quiet to sit. And don’t tell me you ain’t hungry ‘cause I can hear your stomach from here.”

Annie rolled her eyes but her cheeks flushed, and when they stepped back into the sun, she realized her fingers were still tangled with his. She didn’t let go.

Stack didn’t head back toward town after leaving the bakery. Instead, he led Annie down a dirt path that wound away from the noise, past the last few scattered buildings and into open country. Annie followed, a little puzzled, until the trail dipped into a wide meadow. The grass was high and swayed in the soft breeze, and a narrow ribbon of lake water cut through the middle, glimmering in the afternoon sun.

Annie stopped short, breath catching in her throat. “This is beautiful.”

He only shrugged, though the corner of his mouth tilted upward. “I found it a couple days ago, walkin’ around.”

He spread the blanket he’d bought earlier, the colors bright against the grass, and motioned for her to sit. Annie tucked herself onto it while he laid out the food. She laughed when he placed everything out like he was hosting a feast.

“You really did buy half the bakery,” she teased, taking one of the pastries in her hand.

“Good thing I got a woman here to help me eat it all,” he answered, his tone low but playful.

For a while, they ate in comfortable silence, listening to the ripple of the water and the birds overhead. Annie bit into the sandwich, savoring flavors she hadn’t slowed down to enjoy in years. Every now and then, she’d glance at Stack and how relaxed he looked out here with the sun catching on his skin and one big hand steadying the bread as he tore off pieces. Her chest felt warm in a way that wasn’t just from the sunlight.

When she caught him looking back at her, she ducked her head with a shy smile, chewing slowly. Stack chuckled under his breath and leaned back on his elbows, watching her. “Didn’t figure a meal would make you this quiet,” he said.

Annie licked sugar from her thumb and shot him a glance. “Maybe I’m just tryin’ to enjoy it.”

“Or maybe you just don’t know what to say,” he teased, his eyes narrowing with mischief.

That made her laugh, soft and reluctant, but it sounded like the most natural thing in the world.

They ate until the blanket was scattered with crumbs and half-wrapped pastries. Annie leaned back, her eyes on the water. For once, she wasn’t worried about who might come through the brothel doors, or what Lightning wanted from her. The quiet was strange. But nice.

Stack shifted, sitting cross-legged, watching her instead of the lake. After a long pause, he asked, “What’s it really like runnin’ that house?”

Annie tilted her head, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” he scratched his jaw, looking thoughtful, “you move like you got a hundred things in your head at once. Smilin’, handlin’ the girls, keepin’ the men happy. But that can’t be the whole of it.”

Annie gave a little laugh, low and tired. “It ain’t. The brothel’s like a whole world by itself. I’m makin’ sure the girls safe, that they eat, that the customers don’t get too bold, and that Lightning don’t get too mad. I barely sleep sometimes. Whole place rests on me keepin’ it steady.” She plucked at a blade of grass and sighed. “Truth is, Stack it’s like I belong everywhere in that house, but at the same time, nowhere at all.”

Her words lingered in the air. Stack’s gaze softened, but he didn’t press, just nodded like he understood more than he let on.

Annie turned the question back on him, needing the attention off herself. “What about you? What’s it like bein’ on the run all the time?”

He leaned back on his hands, letting out a dry chuckle. “It’s not as excitin’ as folks think. Yeah, there’s cards and liquor and the road, but mostly it’s watchin’ your back every damn second. Always movin’, never settlin’. And when you do lay down for the night, you’re thinkin’ about who’s gonna come lookin’ for you.”

Annie frowned a little. “Sounds lonely.”

“It is.” He looked at her directly, no smile this time. “But a place like this with you make it feel different.”

That made Annie’s stomach flip. She swallowed, brushing a curl behind her ear, her voice softer now. “Different how?”

Stack gave her a half-smirk, but his eyes stayed serious. “Like I ain’t runnin’ for once. Like maybe I got somethin’ worth slowin’ down for.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy, it was charged. Annie’s chest felt too small for all the emotions pressing there, but she couldn’t look away from him.

Annie plucked at the hem of her dress, glancing sideways at him before asking, “How did Smoke meet Rosalie?”

The question seemed to land heavy. Stack’s jaw tightened, and he let out a breath through his nose. “He met her on the trail. Some mess with her folks, some men after her. He stepped in, helped her out, and well…”

Annie nodded slowly, eyes lowering to the blanket. “I shouldn’t’ve asked,” she said after a moment, her voice low, a little guilty.

Stack turned his head to her. “Nah. It’s alright.” He shifted his weight, his tone gentler. “Ain’t like you ain’t allowed to wonder.”

They sat in silence, the sound of the creek filling the gap. Annie’s chest felt tight, her fingers worrying at the corner of the blanket. Finally, Stack broke the stillness.

“You still got feelings for him?”

Her breath caught, and for a second she didn’t look at him. “I don’t know,” she admitted, soft and raw. “If I do, I guess it ain’t somethin’ you can just turn off, y’know?”

Stack’s jaw worked as he looked at her, then back out at the water. He didn’t press nor scold her. He simply sat there accepting it, even though she could see the flicker of hurt in his eyes. He finally said, “Fair enough.”

Annie turned her head, studying his profile in the golden light. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t pulling away either. She sat with her body leaned just slightly in his direction as though it couldn’t help itself.

Stack didn’t move at first. He just stared out over the water, his jaw tight, his thoughts locked away where she couldn’t reach. Annie wanted to say something, but her throat felt dry, like words would only break whatever fragile thread was holding them together.

Then, without even realizing it, her hand shifted. Just the faintest movement, fingers brushing the back of his knuckles where his hand rested on the blanket between them. It wasn’t intentional just a nervous fidget. But Stack didn’t pull away.

Instead, his fingers turned until his calloused palm settled against hers. Annie’s breath caught. Her heart kicked hard against her ribs. She looked up at him, wide-eyed, searching his face for meaning.

Stack finally turned his head toward her. The look in his eyes was deep like a storm he’d been holding back. His thumb brushed over the side of her hand, and that simple touch felt more intimate than any kiss she’d ever had.

The silence didn’t break with words. It broke with an inevitable touch. When their mouths finally found each other, it was featherlight, testing, almost shy. Annie’s eyes fluttered closed as her lips brushed against his, a tender press that sent a ripple through her chest.

Stack cupped the back of her waist and pulled her closer with a kind of steady claim, as if he was anchoring her there with him. Annie let herself melt into it, her hands resting against his chest, feeling the warmth of him seep through his shirt.

The kiss deepened only slightly, enough for her to sigh into his mouth. Stack held her tight against him, his thumb stroking absentminded circles at her side as if to remind her that she was safe in his arms. For the first time, kissing him felt less like fire and more like air, like breathing.

When their lips parted, the space between them felt fragilely charged. Stack didn’t let her drift far, his hand stayed firm at her waist, thumb pressing in slow, steady strokes, while the other slid along her thigh, warm and grounding. Annie’s breath trembled as she looked up at him, caught in the weight of his gaze.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. The meadow was quiet around them, the rustle of grass and the faint rush of the lake the only sounds. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting.

Finally, Annie leaned closer, her lips grazing his ear as she whispered, “Give it to me.”

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his had darkened. He didn’t hesitate again. His mouth claimed hers, rougher this time, lips parting hers with a hunger that made her pulse race.

The kiss deepened, his hand gripping her thigh tighter as if he couldn’t keep still. Annie melted against him, her fingers tangling in his shirt, tugging him closer until their bodies pressed flush together. Every pass of his lips, every sweep of his tongue, every sound she made only stoked the fire rising between them.

The meadow seemed to disappear and there was only the two of them, kissing like they’d been waiting years for this moment to finally ignite. Annie found herself shifting into his lap, straddling him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Stack’s hands instantly caught her waist, steadying her, though the way his fingers flexed told her he was fighting to keep control.

She pressed closer so they were chest to chest. Their mouths moving together in heated rhythm until she broke away just to breathe. Her head tilted back, and Stack didn’t waste the opportunity to make his lips trace along the delicate curve of her neck. A soft gasp escaped from her the more he kissed.

His hands slid lower, rubbing up and down her thighs until his thumbs brushed the sensitive inside of them. Annie moaned at the touch, hips rolling instinctively against him, searching for more.

Stack’s breath was hot against her throat when he murmured, “Tell me, baby. What do you want?”

Her fingers curled in his shirt, holding him close, her voice rough with need as she answered, “You already know what I want.” She shuddered when his thumb pressed higher, teasing, and she shook her head, breathless but defiant. “But I ain’t beggin’ this time.”

Her hips rocked again, and the sound that rumbled from Stack’s chest was half-groan, half-growl. Stack’s restraint finally cracked when he felt Annie rocking against him, heat radiating through the thin barrier of her dress. With a low groan, he slid his hands down and gathered the fabric, lifting it just enough so it wouldn’t be in their way.

Annie, caught up in the moment, fumbled at the buttons of his pants. But her hands stilled, trembling, when Stack’s palm pressed firmly against the softness between her thighs. The thin cotton of her underwear was no match for the slow circles of his thumb that made her body arch against his touch. She let out a shaky whimper, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Stack kissed from her shoulder to the line of her jaw, each press of his mouth matched with the way his fingers teased and coaxed her until she was trembling above him.

Her thighs quivered around his hips, and she gripped the back of his neck for balance, her breath turning into broken gasps. The way her body softened under his touch told him just how close she was, just how much she was ready for him.

Stack pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark and hungry. “Drippin’ for me already, huh?” His voice was rough, but his touch was reverent, almost tender. Annie only moaned in response, her lips parted, eyes half-lidded as she ground against his hand, chasing more.

Stack had her trembling, hovering right at the edge, but every time her body begged for release he slowed his hand, pulling her back just enough to deny it. Her moans turned into breathless sighs of frustration, her forehead resting against his as she panted.

“Stack,” she was half pleading and half warning.

He only chuckled low in his chest, brushing a slow kiss over her jaw while keeping the rhythm steady but just shy of what she needed. The sound of his laugh made her body ache even more.

And with a sharp exhale, Annie stilled his hand and pushed it away. She shifted back just enough to tug her underwear down and off in one hurried motion, tossing them aside. “You’re so mean,” she breathed, but her voice was thick with need.

Stack leaned back against the blanket, watching her with that lazy grin that only made her more flustered. “Impatient little thing,” he drawled, eyes locked on every move she made.

Annie ignored his teasing. Her hands worked at the buttons of his pants with trembling urgency until she freed him. The weight of him in her palm made her breath hitch, and she wrapped her fingers around him instinctively.

The playful amusement in Stack’s eyes faded into something darker as a low grunt slipped from him. His head fell back slightly, lashes low as her touch coaxed him. The sound made her shiver. It was the kind of sound that told her she had undone him as much as he had undone her. And still, through his rough breaths, Stack was chuckling softly, like he was savoring her impatience, her hunger, knowing he had her exactly where he wanted her.

Annie finally steadied herself with her hands on his chest, her breath quick and uneven. She lowered herself onto him so slowly it was almost torturous. The stretch made her eyes flutter shut, and the deep sound that tore from Stack’s throat vibrated up through her bones. Their moans tangled together in the warm night air, heavy and unrestrained.

She didn’t sink all the way, though. Instead, she lifted herself back up and eased down again, keeping her movements shallow, only letting herself have the first inch of him. It was enough to send jolts of pleasure through her body, but not enough to satisfy the aching hunger building in her belly.

Stack’s hands clamped down on her hips, his grip firm, almost warning. His jaw was tight, eyes narrowed on her with a heat that made her feel scorched. “Stop messing with me, Annie,” he groaned, his voice low and rough, like he was hanging on by a thread.

But Annie only let out a breathy little scoff, her lips curving into a smirk even as her thighs trembled from the teasing rhythm she kept. “Oh, what’s the matter?” she whispered, leaning down just close enough to brush her lips against his jaw. “Don’t like it being done to you now, do you?”

Stack cursed under his breath, his body straining up into hers, but she stayed in control, rocking on that first inch over and over again. Each shallow roll made his grip on her hips tighten, made his chest rise and fall faster. He let out another rough grunt, teeth gritted, while Annie continued her torturous pace drunk on the power of finally making him squirm.

Stack’s patience broke. His fingers dug hard into Annie’s hips as he growled, “Enough playin’ with me.” With one rough pull, he slammed her down onto him, burying himself inside her completely. Annie cried out, head falling back as her body quaked around him, her nails clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto.

“Stack…” she gasped, breath shaky, chest heaving.

“Mm,” he grunted through clenched teeth, watching her squirm on top of him. “That’s it. You feel that? That’s mine now.”

Annie moaned, her hips starting to move again, almost testing her own limits before the pleasure overwhelmed her. Her voice was soft as she leaned close to his ear, “You like that? Hm? You like me ridin’ you like this?”

Stack groaned, his hands sliding down to her ass, gripping hard as he helped guide her movements. “Damn right I do. Look at you, bouncin’ on me like you were made for it.” His eyes burned up at her, half-lust, half-awe. “You drivin’ me crazy, baby.”

Annie smirked through her moans, tossing her head back. “Thought you said you didn’t know how to be gentle.” Her voice cracked when she sank harder against him, pulling a guttural sound from his chest. “Don’t sound like you mind me takin’ control.”

Stack chuckled darkly, breath hot against her collarbone as he kissed and bit along her skin. “Control?” he rasped, tightening his grip until she gasped. “I’ll let you play. But don’t get it twisted, Annie, you mine right now. Every damn inch of you.”

Her thighs trembled, but she leaned forward, lips brushing his, voice almost a whimper. “Then show me. Show me I’m yours.”

That was all it took. His hands locked on her, forcing her to take him deeper, harder. Annie moaned loudly, body bouncing against his with each thrust, the rustle of the blanket beneath them drowned by their sounds.

“Oh, God– Stack–” she whined, eyes rolling slightly as the pressure built inside her.

“Yeah, baby, keep sayin’ my name,” he groaned, sweat dripping down his temple as he looked up at her like she was everything. “I wanna hear you beg for me to keep goin’. Tell me you need it.”

Annie shook her head through her moans, lips parted. “No,” she gasped, rolling her hips down hard, making him groan. “I ain’t beggin’ this time. You know I need it. You feel it.”

Everything about her set his blood on fire. He kissed her again swallowing her whimpers as they moved together in a fevered rhythm, every word and every sound pulling them deeper into each other.

The way Annie moved on him wasn’t steady anymore. It was wild, desperate, sending them both into a frenzy they couldn’t pull back from. Her body ground against his in sharp, needy rhythm, and every time she sank down, Stack’s groans tore out of him like he couldn’t hold them back.

“Damn, Annie–” he hissed, his voice thick, “you tryna kill me ridin’ me like this?”

She smirked through a breathless moan, lips brushing his as her hips rolled down hard. “Can’t handle me? Thought you said I was yours.”

He growled, teeth grazing her bottom lip before he kissed her deep, tongues tangling, messy and hot. His hands slid under her ass, palms wide as he lifted and dropped her on him, forcing the rhythm rougher, deeper. Each slam down made her whimper, a sweet sound that had his eyes closing, jaw tight.

“You sound so good, baby. I can’t get enough.” he groaned against her mouth.

Annie gasped, clinging to his shoulders, her voice shaky but defiant. “Then don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop, Stack.”

He smirked, kissing her again, wet and consuming, before pulling back just enough to look at her flushed face. “Oh, I ain’t stoppin’. Not ‘til you can’t breathe without sayin’ my name.”

Her head fell back as he guided her up and down, harder, faster, her cries spilling out uncontrollably. “Baby–”

“Just like that,” he grunted, thrusting up into her now, his hands gripping her like he never wanted to let go. “Keep ridin’ me, baby. Show me you can take all of it.”

Annie leaned back down, kissing him hungrily, tongues clashing, their moans caught between their mouths. It was messy, desperate, like they were trying to consume each other whole. Every movement, every sound drove them higher, the frenzy pulling them closer and closer to the edge.

Annie’s body was wound so tight it was trembling. Her nails dug into Stack’s shoulders as she rocked faster, chasing that sharp edge, breath breaking into gasps. She was right there, right on the cusp, when Stack’s grip shifted. His hands slowed her rhythm, pressing her down just enough to drag her away from release.

Her frustrated cry filled the meadow air. “Stack, no–”

He kissed along her neck, soft and infuriatingly slow, one hand kneading the curve of her ass while the other pinned her against his chest. “Hold it,” he murmured against her skin, his voice a low command. “Not yet.”

Annie tried to grind harder on her own, desperate for friction, but his palm cracked lightly against her backside, making her gasp. His smirk brushed her throat. “Ah-ah. Who told you to move, baby?”

She whimpered, clutching at his shirt. “Please, Stack. I need it, I can’t–”

“You can,” he cut in, his tone teasing but firm. His lips dragged over her jaw, his breath hot in her ear. “You think I don’t know this body already? I can feel you about to break and I’m not lettin’ you yet.”

Annie groaned, tossing her head back, her frustration mixing with desire. “Still mean,” she panted.

He chuckled, teeth grazing her pulse as his hand roamed possessively over her hips. “Mean? Naw, baby. I’m givin’ you more than he ever did.” His words were thick with hunger as he rolled his hips slowly, deliberately. “I’m gonna make you come so hard you’ll forget any man ever touched you before me.”

Her body shuddered at the promise, her thighs tightening around him. “Stack…”

He tightened his grip, still holding her down, still denying her. “Say it,” he growled softly. “Say you’re mine, and I’ll give it to you.”

Annie’s nails dug into his shoulders, her body trembling from the pressure of being held back. The ache in her was unbearable, her breath catching with every teasing grind he allowed. She couldn’t take him holding the reins when her body was screaming to let go.

“Fine,” she gasped out, her voice shaky but desperate. “I’m yours, Stack. I’m yours. Just…please–”

That was all he needed. His eyes darkened with raw hunger, and a low groan rumbled in his chest as his grip tightened on her hips. “That’s what I wanted to hear.” he rasped, almost smug.

Without warning, he started driving her down harder, his pace quickening until every movement had her bouncing against him. Each thrust went deeper, harder, hitting the spot that made her cry out. His hands cupped her ass, guiding her rhythm, forcing her to take him in full. Annie’s head fell back, a long moan tearing from her throat.

“Yeah, baby,” he grunted, his own breathing ragged as he pulled her flush against him. “Take all of it. Don’t hold nothin’ back now.”

Her body gave in to the rhythm, each deep thrust pushing her closer, until the pressure finally shattered. Annie cried out his name over and over as she came, her whole body arching against his, clutching at him like she might break apart without his hold.

Stack didn’t let her go. He rode her through it, his mouth hot against her skin, murmuring filthy praises and groans in her ear while her body trembled in his hands.

Annie’s body was still quivering, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath. Stack’s hands were still locked on her hips, trying to keep her in place, but she surprised him when she slid off his lap, her legs shaky but determined.

“Annie,” he started, voice rough, but then he stilled when she dropped to her knees in front of him.

Her hands worked quickly, pushing his pants lower, freeing him completely. She looked up at him through heavy lashes, her lips parted, cheeks flushed with heat. “My turn,” she whispered, still breathless but steady with intent.

Stack groaned, his head tipping back as her mouth wrapped around him. His hand instinctively tangled in her hair, grounding himself. “Damn, baby…”

She hummed in response, the vibration making his hips jerk. Annie wasn’t shy. She worked him with a hunger that had his thighs tense, her hand twisting at the base while her lips and tongue made a mess of him. He couldn’t stop the stream of praises spilling from his mouth. His voice breaking when she took him deeper.

Her eyes flicked up, locking on his, and that alone nearly undid him. He was panting, his muscles tight as he tried to hold out, but she was relentless. Her pace quickened and her lips sliding down until he could feel himself hitting the back of her throat. His hand tightened in her hair as his control snapped.

Stack let out a guttural groan, his whole body shuddering as he climaxed, gripping her like she was the only thing holding him together. Annie swallowed everything, slow and deliberate, before pulling back with lips wet and swollen, her eyes shining with satisfaction.

When he looked down at her, breathless and wrecked, he couldn’t even find the words, “Goddamn, girl.”

Annie wiped at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand before slowly crawling back into Stack’s lap, her body still weak from the climax she’d just ridden out. He welcomed her instantly, strong arms wrapping around her waist like he couldn’t let her go even if he wanted to. She rested her cheek near his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat as it calmed. For a moment, the meadow was quiet.

Stack tilted his head down, pressing a kiss against her damp hair. “You tryna kill me too, huh?” he murmured with a little laugh, though his voice was still rough from everything they’d just done.

Annie let out a small chuckle against him, too tired to fire back with her usual sass. She just curled into him tighter, her fingers tracing absent shapes along his skin.

They sat there in silence, letting the world around them fade, until Stack finally shifted. “C’mon, suga’,” he said gently, brushing his lips across her temple. “We oughta get back to the boarding house before someone comes lookin’.”

Annie only hummed in response, reluctant to move but knowing he was right. Slowly, he helped her up, gathering the blanket and their things with one arm while keeping his other around her shoulders. Even as they made their way back toward town, Stack kept her close, like the moment in the meadow had bound them together in a way neither one of them could quite name yet.

By the time they made it back to the boarding house, night had settled thick over town. The lanterns along the street cast a low glow, their footsteps quiet against the wood steps as Stack led Annie inside.

Neither of them said much, just a glance and a half-smile that carried the weight of what happened in the meadow. Upstairs, Stack fetched a basin of water and a towel, setting it on the dresser before pulling his shirt over his head. Annie washed up first, rinsing the sweat and grass from her skin, then handed the basin over so he could do the same.

When they finally lay down, the room was dark and hushed, the only sound the faint creak of the bed as they settled in beside one another. Annie curled into Stack’s side without a word, her cheek pressed to his chest. He pulled the blanket over them both and tucked her closer, his hand splayed at the small of her back.

For the first time in days, Annie let herself breathe easy. There was no Lightning, no brothel, and no eyes watching her every move. Only Stack’s warmth, steady and certain, carrying her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Sunlight slipped through the thin curtains, painting pale streaks across the bed. Annie stretched out against the sheets before realizing Stack was already awake. He had one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily draped across her waist, his fingers tracing idle patterns over her hip and thigh like he couldn’t help himself.

“You know,” he murmured, his grin crooked and his touch wandering lower, “I could get real used to waking up like this.”

Annie rolled her eyes, though the corner of her mouth tugged into a smile. “You just like having somebody in your space.”

Stack chuckled and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his beard scratching lightly against her skin. “Damn right I do. Especially if it’s you.” He squeezed her side playfully, and she swatted his hand away, though not too seriously.

They lay like that for a while, warm and tangled, until Annie propped herself up on her elbow and studied him. “There’s somewhere I want to take you today,” she said softly.

Stack raised a brow, curious. “Oh yeah? And where’s that?”

Annie bit her lip, as if weighing whether she should say. “It’s on the edge of town. Not too many people know about it. But I think you gone like it.”

His grin widened, boyish and eager. “If it’s someplace you want to show me, then I already like it.”

Annie shook her head at his easy charm, but her chest warmed all the same. She pushed the blanket back and swung her legs over Stack, straddling him for a brief second as she leaned across the bed to grab her bag. Stack’s eyes followed her every move, and before she could climb off him, his palm landed with a playful smack against her backside. She gasped, half laughing and half scolding.

He just grinned up at her, all mischief. “Couldn’t help myself. You make it too easy.”

Annie rolled her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Get up. We gotta get ready if you wanna see this place before the whole day’s gone.”

Stack sat up, still chuckling, and caught her hand to tug her back toward him. “I’ll get up, but you keep climbing over me like that and we’ll never leave.”

She shook her head and pushed at his shoulder, finally slipping away from his grasp. “Uh-huh, none of that. Clothes on, right now.”

With a groan that was more dramatic than genuine, Stack swung his legs out of bed and started pulling his shirt over his head. Annie busied herself brushing through her hair and tying it back neatly, slipping into her dress and boots while Stack muttered something under his breath about her being bossy in the mornings.

Within a few minutes, both of them were dressed and ready, the easy quiet of the boarding house wrapping around them. They were about to walk out the boarding house door when they nearly collided with Rosalie. She froze mid-step, her notebook tucked against her chest, eyes flicking from Annie to Stack. The silence stretched, heavy, as Annie and Rosalie exchanged a long look. Neither saying a word, though the sharpness in Rosalie’s gaze spoke volumes. Annie lifted her chin slightly, refusing to look away first.

Stack broke the moment by pushing the door open wider, guiding Annie outside with his hand at her back. They stepped out into the sunlight, leaving the tension behind in the quiet hall.

As they started down the street, Annie finally exhaled. “What’s her problem with me?” she asked, her voice low but edged with irritation.

Stack glanced at her, lips twitching like he’d been waiting for the question. “Rosalie thinks you’re gonna take Smoke from her. That’s all it is.”

Annie scoffed and shook her head, a small, incredulous laugh slipping out. “Well, if she keeps staring me down like that, she’s liable to end up in a ditch.”

Stack chuckled, shaking his head at her fiery bite, though the glint in his eyes showed he wasn’t entirely dismissing her threat. He reached down, lacing their fingers together as they kept walking.

They walked for a good while, passing the busy heart of town until the buildings began to thin out. Finally, Annie slowed in front of a little shop tucked against the edge of the road. From the outside, it didn’t look like much, but the moment Stack followed her inside, his brows lifted.

The air was thick with the earthy sweetness of plants, pots of herbs and flowers spilling over every surface. Sunlight caught on glass cases and shelves lined with gleaming trinkets glittering like they were waiting for the right hand to claim them.

Stack let out a low whistle, glancing around. “What kinda place is this?” he asked, half-wary, half-intrigued.

Annie didn’t answer, only lifted her voice. “Ms. Jay?”

From the back, a voice answered, warm and familiar. A moment later, a woman stepped out, draped in the most beautiful jewelry that sparkled with every move. Her smile widened when she saw Annie, and she pulled her into a hug that spoke of history and affection.

When her eyes shifted to Stack, though, the smile didn’t fade, but it sharpened. She looked him over like she could read him down to the bone. Stack shifted, caught between being respectful and wanting to laugh at how she seemed to size him up without saying a word.

“This him?” the woman asked Annie, her voice low but knowing.

Annie smirked, tugging Stack closer. “This Stack. I figured he might want some new golds, maybe a watch. Thought you could set him right.”

The woman only hummed, her gaze still locked on Stack, measuring him. Stack’s usual easy grin spread across his face, because jewelry had always been his weakness. He glanced at the displays again, eyes glinting with interest.

“Now that sounds like something I can’t say no to,” he said.

Stack leaned back in the chair with his mouth open, trying not to smirk as the woman worked on him. Annie sat nearby, legs crossed, watching with quiet amusement. She’d seen men grin at their reflections before, but the way Stack was sitting there like a king while the woman fitted fresh gold in his mouth.

“You gon’ be flashing smiles all over town now,” Annie teased.

Stack tilted his head her way, the corner of his lip curling, gold catching the light. “Ain’t nothing wrong with lettin’ people know I shine.”

He tried on rings and chains, but it was the heavy watch that sealed it. A weighty thing, silver and gold woven together, with a face that glimmered every time it caught the sun. He slipped it on, flexed his wrist, and gave a satisfied nod. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The woman looked pleased. Then her gaze shifted back to Annie, and her whole demeanor softened. “And,” she said, disappearing for a moment, “I got something in just for you, baby girl.”

Annie sat up straighter, curiosity prickling. When the woman returned, she carried a velvet-lined box like it held treasure. And in a way, it did. She opened it to reveal a glittering corset, diamonds sewn into every inch, with delicate garters that shimmered like falling stars. Draped beside it was a necklace where every stone catching the light until Annie almost had to squint.

Annie’s breath caught. “Lord have mercy,” She leaned in, eyes wide, lips parted in disbelief.

But just as quickly, she leaned back, shaking her head. “I–I can’t. Me and Lightning ain’t on good terms right now, and if he finds out I been buying pieces, especially like this…” Her voice trailed off. She forced a little laugh that didn’t quite cover her nerves. “It’s beautiful, but I won’t be able to afford it anyway.”

Stack didn’t miss a beat. “How much?”

Annie whipped her head toward him. The woman smirked like she’d been expecting that question. She gave him a number that made Annie’s stomach twist, but Stack just pulled a roll of cash from his pocket like it was nothing.

“Stack,” Annie hissed, leaning closer, her hand pressing his arm. “Don’t. You don’t know what you’re stirrin’ up. If Lightning catches wind that another man buyin’ me pieces–”

“He won’t catch wind,” Stack interrupted, calm but firm, his eyes cutting into hers. “And even if he did,” he tilted his chin, flashing that gold smile, “what he gon’ do about it?”

Annie swallowed hard. She wanted to argue, to push the box back, but her heart was racing too fast. The idea of owning something that fine, made just for her, stirred something deep. Still, she shook her head stubbornly. “You don’t listen worth a damn.”

Stack chuckled, sliding the cash across the counter. “Nah, I listen. I just don’t care.”

The woman closed the box with care, satisfied. “This piece ain’t for just anybody,” she said. “I made it custom to Annie’s measurements and all. It’s a perfect fit.” She glanced knowingly at Annie. “Like always.”

Annie was quiet, cheeks hot, caught between flattered and furious.

Stack nudged the box toward her. “You gon’ try it on?”

Annie’s eyes darted between him and the glittering set. She crossed her arms, lips twitching into a nervous smile. “Mm-mm. I’ll save it. For a special occasion.”

Stack leaned back, gaze heated but playful. “Guess I’ll just be waitin’ for that occasion, then.”

Annie rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the flutter in her chest as the woman wrapped the box up carefully.

They leave the shop with their arms full, the glint of new gold catching the afternoon light, Annie teasing Stack about how he couldn’t keep still in the chair while getting fitted. Their laughter echoes down the street, playful and carefree, and it follows them all the way back to the boarding house. By the time they pushed the door open, they were still nudging shoulders, Stack grinning as Annie said something sly under her breath. But the moment they stepped inside, the air changed.

Smoke was sitting in the main area, his posture calm, but his stare sharp and locked on Annie. Rosalie sat close beside him, but the second Annie stepped through the door, Rosalie stiffened. Her eyes darted from Annie to Stack, then lingered bitterly on Annie again. Annie forced herself to keep her chin high, to keep her gaze anywhere but on Smoke. The laughter drained from her lips, replaced with something tight, restrained.

The silence stretched until Smoke broke it. “Can I talk to you alone?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room like glass.

Stack’s brows lifted in surprise. His easy grin faltered, his body shifted just slightly closer to Annie. He was protective without even realizing it. Rosalie made a scoffing sound and pushed herself up from her seat. “Unbelievable,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as she stomped upstairs, heels striking the wood like little hammers.

Annie’s pulse kicks up. Everything in her told her to say no, to walk past, to leave Smoke to sit there with his intensity and his silence. But instead, her mouth betrayed her. 

“Yes.” She didn’t trust her own voice. It was softer than she meant, but it held.

Stack looked at her like she was out of her mind. “You sure?” He shifted the shopping box in his hand, holding it out like he wanted to anchor her with it. Annie pressed it back toward him, giving him the box. Her fingers lingered just a second longer than they should’ve on his hand.

“I’m fine,” she says, though she isn’t sure if she believes it herself.

Stack didn’t move right away. His eyes flicked from Annie to Smoke, narrowing just a fraction. Then back to Annie. There was a silent conversation there, the kind of wordless warning that said, Call me if you need me. Finally, with a reluctant nod, he started toward the stairs.

He looked back after a few steps. And again after a few more. Each time, Annie gave him the faintest nod, her face calm even as her heart pounded. Stack disappeared upstairs, but not before glancing over his shoulder one last time, to make sure she was still okay.

When he left, the room felt smaller. The silence between them stretched until it was suffocating. Annie shifted her weight, folding her arms across her chest, but she didn't say a word. Smoke leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor before finally looking up at her.

“Can we talk about things between us?” His voice was low, steady, but laced with something almost pleading.

Annie’s eyes stayed on him not giving him an answer

“I’m sorry,” Smoke said, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know why I left you. Maybe I thought you didn’t need me. That you could take care of yourself. But that don’t make it right.”

Annie shook her head slowly, lips pressed together to keep her face from breaking.

“I’m sorry I caused you so much pain,” Smoke pushed on, his voice softer now. “And I still love you. You’re the only woman that ever truly knew me.”

That’s when Annie scoffed, the sound sharp. She turned her head to the side, trying to blink away the sting in her eyes, but tears welled up anyway. She hated it–the weakness, the vulnerability, showing him the hurt she swore she’d never let him see again.

Smoke saw it, though, and it pulled something raw out of him. “Just like you know me better than anyone, I know you better than anybody. And I know you’re only with Stack to get back at me. I get it. But it don’t mean it don’t hurt like hell to see y’all together like this.”

That snaped Annie out of it. Her chest tightened, but this time with anger, not grief. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and laughed.

“You think I’m with Stack to get back at you? He knows a whole lot more about me now than you ever did, Smoke.” Her voice rose, steady with heat. “This here the first full conversation we’ve had in years.”

Smoke’s jaw tightened. “You wouldn’t talk to me.”

“You didn’t try hard enough!” Annie fired back, her voice cracking. “Stack came by every damn day until I let him in. He put in the work. You didn’t.” She shook her head, her voice cut like glass now. “And besides you married now. You don’t get to worry about me anymore.”

Smoke’s eyes flashed, his expression hardened. “Why him, though? Why my twin?”

Annie paused for only a second, her shoulders rose as she exhaled sharply. “I don’t know,” she spit back. “But it ain’t got nothing to do with you.”

And before he could say another word, she turned on her heel and walked upstairs, her footsteps quick, leaving Smoke sat there alone with his regret.

The next morning, the sunlight that crept through the thin curtains felt harsher than usual. Annie was quiet as she sat at the edge of the bed, smoothing down her dress. Her eyes were heavy and not from lack of sleep but from the weight of last night. Even when Stack held her, whispered for her to let it out, she felt exposed in a way she didn’t like. She felt vulnerable and unsafe in a house where Smoke could corner her again.

She buttoned the front of her dress with careful, deliberate fingers. “I need to go somewhere,” she said lightly, trying to make it sound casual.

Stack, still pulling on his shirt, looked over at her with raised brows. “Where?”

Annie shruged, slipping her feet into her shoes. “Just somewhere I gotta be.”

Stack chuckled under his breath as he tucked in his shirt, clearly not buying her vague answer. “Yeah, well, sounds like I’m coming with you then.”

Annie’s head snapped toward him. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said simply, grabbing his belt and looping it through. “But I want to.” His tone was final, leaving no room for debate.

Annie forced a little smile, though her stomach twisted. She didn’t want him following her back into her old world. Especially not when she hadn’t figured out how to face it herself. But Stack’s presence was steady and immovable.

Instead, she picked up her shawl, draped it around her shoulders, and said, “Alright then. Let’s go.”

They stepped out of the boarding house and fell into stride together. The town was just waking, streets were busy with wagons rattling and shopkeepers sweeping their stoops. Annie kept her shawl pulled tight around her shoulders, eyes fixed forward.

Stack walked beside her, hands in his pockets, a calm shadow at her side. At first, he didn’t think twice about where she was leading them until the brothel came into view down the street.

His jaw flexed. He glanced at her, then back at the building, then at her again. For a moment it looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he pressed his lips together and kept quiet.

Annie could feel the weight of his silence, could feel his eyes on her as they neared the front steps. Her chest tightened, but she didn't slow her pace. She couldn’t, not if she wanted to prove to herself that she was still in control. Stack exhaled through his nose, a heavy sound, but he said nothing. He just followed her all the way up to the door.

The moment Annie pushed open the door, the sounds hit her first–the laughter and music, the shuffle of feet across polished wood. Inside, the brothel was alive in a way that felt almost jarring after her absence. Women in silken robes and laced corsets twirled around with feather dusters, polishing mirrors, shaking out curtains, and clapping their hands in rhythm to a tune one of them hums. A couple of girls danced together in the middle of the floor, skirts swishing and hair tumbling loose, carefree in a way Annie hadn’t seen them in a long while. Her brows arched high. It didn’t even look like she was gone at all. If anything, the place seemed lighter.

Before she could get her bearings, two of the younger women spotted her at the door. “Annie!” they squealed, hurrying over, arms wide. Their faces brightened as though she was a long-lost sister returned, and in a way, she was. They threw their arms around her, squeezing tight and chattering over each other about how much they’ve missed her.

But the reunion screeched to a halt when they noticed the tall frame lingering just behind her. Stack, with his cool eyes, stood in the doorway like he owned the space, shoulders broad and presence undeniable.

The girls glanced between Annie and him, then back at Annie, their eyebrows shot sky-high. One of them even bit her lip to hide a smirk.

Annie cleared her throat and asked, “Where’s Lightning?”

The entire room went still, as if someone yanked the needle off a record. The question landed heavier than she meant it to. Every girl froze, exchanging quick looks among each other. Their earlier excitement thinned into surprise. Even Stack’s brows tug together, curious at the shift in energy.

Finally, one of the older women stepped forward, lowering her voice. “He’s been holed up in his room since you left. Ain’t came out for much except meals, and a word here or there when the house is about to open. But he been quiet as a shadow otherwise.”

Annie absorbed that, her lips parted slightly. She hadn’t expected that answer. She glanced back at Stack, who was studying her now, but she didn't linger. Instead, she turned back to the girls, pasting a soft smile onto her face.

She leaned up, pressed a quick kiss to Stack’s lips, and whispered, “Stay here.” Then, to the ladies, she said, “Take care of him while I’m gone.”

That’s all the invitation they needed. Giggles rippled through the group as they swarmed Stack like bees to honey. One brushed invisible lint off his shoulder, another straightened the collar of his shirt, while another dared to rest a hand against his arm and squeeze. They’re not subtle as they traced the outline of muscle, tugged playfully at his sleeve, and leaned into his space with little sighs and laughter.

Stack just stood there, a smirk tugging at his mouth as he watched Annie retreat. His eyes followed her all the way down the hall until she disappeared, but he didn't move a muscle to shake the girls off. If anything, he let them buzz around him, his cool gaze never left the spot Annie vanished into.

Annie’s heels clicked softly against the hallway floor as she made her way toward the very back of the building. The laughter, the music, the clamor from the main floor faded away behind her, replaced by a heavy hush. This wing of the brothel always felt quieter, older, like the walls themselves knew too many secrets and weren’t in the mood to share. She knew the route by heart: down the narrow hall, past the storage room, and to the very last door where Lightning kept himself.

She didn’t hesitate. She gripped the knob, twisted, and pushed the door open without knocking.

The room was thick with smoke. The air felt dense, curling with the pungent scent of cigar that clung to the curtains, the bedding, the carpet. Light filtered weakly through half-drawn shades, striping across Lightning’s body where he sat slouched on the edge of the bed.

He was in nothing but his underwear, one hand clutched a half-burned cigar, the other rested limply on his thigh. His hair was unkempt, his eyes a little wild around the edges. There was a jitter in the way his fingers twitched. He looked halfway between exhaustion and agitation.

The door bursting open startled him. He jerked upright, his cigar wavered, and eyes flashed like a cornered animal. But when he saw her his whole frame slackened. The tension drained from his shoulders, and he exhaled a shaky breath of smoke, relief softening his hard edges.

“Annie,” he muttered almost disbelieving.

She didn’t even flinch at his state, didn’t give his near-nakedness or his glassy-eyed restlessness more than a glance. She squared her shoulders, kept her chin up, and fixed her gaze on him like steel.

“I’ll come back,” her voice sliced through the haze. “But only under my terms.”

Lightning blinked at her, still sluggish, as if the words took a moment to cut through the fog in his head. He watched her like he was afraid she might vanish if he even so much as blinked.

Annie pressed forward, laying it all out plain: “I’ll only work as madam. You won’t control who I see, or where I go. Stack can come ‘round whenever he wants, and you won’t say or do nothing about it. And when I’m ready to leave,” her voice hardened, her eyes narrowed, “you gone let me go with no fight.”

Lightning just stared. Smoke curled from his cigar in slow spirals, disappearing into the air between them. His eyes locked on her, but his body didn't move. He looked like a man trying to process a language he hadn’t spoken in years.

The silence went so long Annie’s patience started to fray. She set her jaw, her tone final as she added, “I’ll be back to start tomorrow.”

With that, she turned, her skirts brushed against the doorframe as she walked out, leaving the smoky room behind. Lightning stayed still. He didn’t bother calling afer her. He just sat there, cigar burning between his fingers, staring at the space she occupied as if her words were still ringing through the walls.

Annie shut Lightning’s door behind her, pressing her hand briefly against the cool wood before pulling herself together. She straightened her skirts, lifted her chin, and made her way back through the quiet hallway toward the sound of laughter and voices.

When she stepped back onto the main floor, the atmosphere was still lively, playful, and bright. The girls had gathered around Stack, perched on chairs and leaning over the couch where he sat. He was in the center of it all completely relaxed. The ladies were giggling, touching his arm, brushing at his shoulders like moths drawn to his steady flame.

For a moment, Annie just stood there, watching the scene. Amusement, annoyance, and something else she didn’t want to name ripped through her.

She cleared her throat, sharp enough to cut through the chatter. The sound echoed, and all heads turned in her direction. The girls straightened like schoolchildren caught misbehaving, their laughter dying down, but not before a few stifled giggles slipped through. Stack looked up at her, his smile lingering, though his eyes softened when they met hers.

“Stack,” Annie’s tone even but carrying that quiet authority that always made people listen, “you ready to go?”

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation, standing to his full height. There was a little glint in his eye like he’d been expecting her to rescue him sooner.

The girls all made little noises of disappointment, but Annie didn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction. She simply held her gaze on Stack until he moved to her side. Then, they headed for the door. The room’s chatter started back up the second they left, but Annie didn’t look back. The air outside felt cooler, freer, as the brothel door closed behind them.

They make it back to the boarding house, the walk filled with a silence so heavy it felt like another person walking beside them. Annie’s hands were shoved deep into her skirt pockets, chin tucked down, and Stack could feel her walls going back up brick by brick. He hated when she got like this, when she shut him out and let the shadows of her old life speak louder than he could.

The moment the door closed behind them, Stack finally let it out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wanted to go back so soon?” His voice came out sharper than he intended, frustration dripping through.

Annie’s head snapped up, her eyes flashing. “Because you wouldn’t understand!” she fired back, throwing her hands out. “That place is all I’ve had for a long time. I’m not just gone leave it behind like it was nothin’.”

Stack stepped toward her, jaw tight. “You think I don’t understand loyalty? You think I don’t understand building somethin’ from nothin’? Damn it, Annie, I’ve clawed my way outta holes darker than you can imagine. I just don’t get why you keep running back to a place that’s breakin’ you.”

Her chest rose and fell hard, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and something more fragile. “Because it’s all I know! That place supported and protected me when nobody else would. Those girls, that chaos, it’s part of me. And besides,” She swallowed hard, her voice dropping lower. “Lightning’s too crazy to just let me leave without saying something. If I just disappear, it won’t end well. For me or for anyone in there.”

At that, Stack’s eyes narrowed. He’d heard her call Lightning crazy before, plenty of times, but every time she said it, it came with this edge of fear she never explained. He stepped closer, his voice dropping.

“I’m sick of you sayin’ that without tellin’ me why. What the hell did he do to you, Annie?”

She froze, her lips parting, but no words came out.

Stack’s tone softened, but the heat was still there. He reached for her hand, prying it out of her pocket, holding it in both of his. “You think I don’t notice? Every time you say his name, your whole body goes stiff. Your eyes go somewhere else, like you’re reliving somethin’ you don’t wanna touch. You keep droppin’ hints about how ‘crazy’ he is, but you never let me in. And I can’t protect you if you keep me in the dark, Annie.”

Her eyes glistened, jaw clenched. “You don’t understand, Stack. He don’t just let people walk away. He owns everything in that place. And if someone tries to leave? He makes sure they regret it. He doesn’t just ruin you, he ruins everything connected to you. You think I wanna drag you into that?”

Stack shook his head slowly, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “Too late. You already did.”

Annie’s breath caught, her throat tightening at the truth of it.

Stack’s grip tightened around her hand, his voice gravelly, low, almost begging. “Stop carryin’ this shit alone, Annie. Tell me what he did. Tell me why you’re so damn scared of him. I can’t stand watchin’ you tear yourself apart just to keep me out.”

Annie sat down on the edge of the bed, her body suddenly heavy. Stack stood a few feet away, tense, waiting. He wasn’t going to push anymore, but he wasn’t going to let her go silent either.

“You wanna know why I keep saying Lightning’s crazy?” she said flatly. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

Stack crossed his arms, waiting.

“When I first got there, I wasn’t anything special. Just another girl on the floor, working rooms, doing what I had to. One night, this group of men came in. They were loud and already drunk, just throwing money around. Me and another girl got sent to take care of ’em. And I didn’t think twice about it. It was supposed to be just another night.”

She laughed bitterly, but it wasn’t humor…it was venom.

“One of ‘em was piss drunk and sloppy. He had his hands touching everywhere and his breath smelled like shit. He wasn’t even spending much, but I didn’t know that at the time. I thought I was doing my job. So I…I went down on him. I thought at least I’d get paid for it.”

She shrugged, her expression unreadable. “He didn’t. Handed me a couple coins like I was begging on the street. It wasn’t even enough to buy a drink, let alone cover what he owed. I told him he needed to pay me right, but he just laughed.”

So I went to Lightning and told him this man didn’t pay. I thought–hell, I don’t even know what I thought. I guess maybe he’d just rough him up a little, make him pay proper, then throw him out. But what Lightning did…”

Her tone sharpened. “Lightning dragged the man to the balcony upstairs, the one overlooking the main floor. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up at Lightning holding this man over the edge like he was a damn rag doll. Lightning dangled him over the edge, calm as could be, and asked, ‘Where’s her money?’ The man laughed, said he didn’t have it.”

Annie’s eyes flicked to Stack. “Lightning didn’t laugh. He shot him right in the knee while still holding him over the rail. The whole place went dead silent. All you could hear was that man screaming.”

She leaned forward slightly, voice firm. “Then Lightning looked at me. Told me to check his pockets. Said, ‘Go on, Annie, see if the liar’s hidin’ something.’ And I…I did it. My hands were shaking so bad, but I dug in his pockets and pulled out everything he had. Cash, loose change, even a small piece of paper. I took it all.”

“Lightning just grinned, like it was a lesson. And then he shot him in the other knee. Blood went everywhere. And after that he threw him over the edge like garbage. The man hit the floor and didn’t get back up. And all Lightning said was ‘I hate liars’.”

She let the words hang heavy before continuing. “That was one of my first weeks there. Lesson learned quick.”

Stack’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t speak, so Annie went on.

“And it wasn’t just customers. He treated the girls the same way if they stepped wrong. There was this new girl who was barely a week in. Lightning sent her to get him food. She came back with the wrong plate.” Annie’s eyebrow lifted. “He picked it up and smashed it right back in her face. Told her she was too stupid to work for him.”

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “That’s Lightning. One second he’s calm, the next he’s pulling a trigger or humiliating somebody just because he feels like it. And everybody watches, because that’s how he keeps control.”

Stack finally shifted, scoffing. “That don’t sound too crazy to me.”

Annie actually laughed this time, low and sharp. “You didn’t see him do it over and over, just to remind everybody who was in charge. He’s not like you and Smoke.”

Everything was quiet as they got changed for bed. The room was dim and quiet except for the creak of the floorboards and the shuffle of fabric. Annie slid under the blanket, her back sinking into the mattress, and Stack joined her, stretching out beside her.

“I’ll leave when I’m ready,” Annie said firmly, eyes on the ceiling, her voice low but certain. “Not before. You just gonna have to accept that answer.”

Stack turned his head toward her, his jaw tightening like he wanted to argue but knew better. He studied her for a moment, then let out a slow breath through his nose, choosing silence instead of pushing her further.

The stillness stretched between them, thick with everything unspoken. Then Stack reached over, his hand brushing against her waist. Annie turned to face him, her lips parting, and without another word, they closed the space.

Their mouths met with the heat right there beneath the surface. The kiss deepened, messy with want, their hands roaming over each other’s bodies. Stack pulled her closer, her leg sliding over his hip as their bodies pressed flush together.

The tension crackled like fire, every touch charged, every breath quickening. Annie’s fingers tangled in the back of his hair, tugging him closer, while Stack gripped her tighter, his kisses dragging across her lips, her jaw, down to her throat.

It wasn’t about words anymore, it was about all the things they couldn’t say, bleeding out through touch, through hunger. The air between them felt heavy, like the room itself was holding its breath, waiting to see who would give in first.

They were kissing face to face, tangled in the sheets, their mouths moving together like neither of them could get enough. Annie’s breaths were shaky against his lips, soft whimpers slipping out between kisses.

Stack’s hand slid down her side, over the curve of her hip, then dipped lower until his fingers slipped between her thighs. He stroked her slow, teasing, while keeping his mouth locked with hers. Annie gasped into the kiss, her moans muffled by him, her whole body twitching under his touch.

Stack swallowed every sound she made, grunting low in his chest when she pressed closer. His tongue tangled with hers, deep and messy, while his fingers worked her steadily, circling, dipping, pulling those broken moans right out of her.

Annie clutched at his shoulders, nails biting through his shirt as her hips rocked against his hand. She was losing herself in him, in the way he touched her like he knew exactly what she needed, in the way he didn’t let her pull back from his kiss. The more he pushed, the more breathless she became, until she was whining softly into his mouth, her body begging for more.

Stack kept his rhythm steady, dragging her closer and closer to that edge, but before she could break, before she could tumble over, he pulled his fingers away. Annie let out a sharp, frustrated whimper, her thighs trembling, but he only smirked, his lips brushing hers.

Their hands moved at the same time, fumbling, tugging his underwear down in a rush. Annie’s nails dragged against his skin, and Stack hissed between his teeth, both of them too eager to slow down.

Their mouths collided again, wet and messy, their tongues sliding against each other as if they’d starved for this. Annie hooked a leg over his hip, pulling him in, and Stack lined himself up, guiding himself against her heat.

The kiss shattered the moment he pushed inside. Annie gasped, breaking away with a loud moan that filled the room, her head falling back against the pillow. Her body arched into him, taking him in slow, stretching around him until her breath came in ragged pulls.

Stack groaned deep in his chest, eyes screwed shut as he sank fully into her. “Fuck, Annie…” he rasped, holding her hips still like he needed a second to keep it together.

She was already clawing at him, urging him deeper, lips parted as little cries slipped free, unrestrained and needy.

Stack didn’t waste another second, he drove into her hard with quick, rough thrusts that made the whole bed jolt beneath them. Each movement was urgent, heavy with everything he couldn’t put into words, pouring his emotions straight into her body.

Annie cried out, the sound breaking between a moan and a gasp as her leg was hooked higher on his hip, opening her up to him even more. The angle had her clenching tight, and Stack groaned against her skin, the sound low and guttural.

Her breasts bounced against his chest with every thrust, the heat of their bodies colliding again and again. Annie’s moans spilled into the air, loud, unashamed, echoing in the quiet room. She tilted her head back, exposing her throat, and Stack took the invitation, kissing and biting along her neck while the squeak of the bed grew louder beneath their rhythm.

His grip was firm, almost possessive, like he was afraid to let her slip away. She clawed at his shoulders, pulling him closer, wrapping herself tighter around him, each moan of hers met with a grunt or growl of his. The tension between them was fierce, raw, and every thrust felt like a demand; stay with me, feel me, remember me.

Unbeknownst to Annie and Stack, just down the hall Smoke and Rosalie were laying in their own bed. The walls of the old boarding house were thin, and every creak of the bed, every moan, every curse floated right through.

Rosalie laid stiff beside him, face turned to the wall, while Smoke’s jaw was clenched so tight it ached. Annie’s voice was unmistakable. He knew those sweet moans, those sharp little gasps, the way her tone rose when Stack pushed her just right. And then came the words, Annie’s hot and shameless dirty talk spilling out, while Stack’s voice was low and commanding in return.

Smoke’s face darkened, his expression black with jealousy. He couldn’t shut it out. Every filthy word painted a picture in his mind. He could see Annie’s face, her lips parted, her brows drawn tight in pleasure, the way her voice used to sound when she cried out for him.

Rosalie glanced at him once, her lips pressed thin, but she didn’t say a word. Smoke barely noticed her anyway. He was lost in his own torment, forced to hear the proof of how deeply Annie was giving herself to his twin. Smoke couldn’t block it out if he tried. Annie’s voice carried clear through the thin wall, shaky and breathless:

“Stack–right there, don’t stop. You feel so good inside me.”

Smoke’s eyes squeezed shut, his fists clenching in the sheets. Then came Stack’s rough whisper, low and commanding, almost taunting:

“Yeah, that’s it, take my shit. This pussy’s mine. You hear me?”

Annie moaned in response, loud enough to make Smoke’s stomach twist.

“Yes…it’s yours, Stack. I can’t–I can’t take it.”

Stack growled something in return, the sound vibrating through the wall, followed by the harsh smack of skin on skin. Annie whimpered, her tone high and needy. 

Smoke’s chest heaved, jealousy eating him alive, every filthy word dragging him back to when he was the one she begged like that. His face was blank, his mind nothing but Annie’s flushed face, her lips swollen, her eyes rolling back in pleasure, but none of it was his anymore.

Rosalie shifted beside him, stiff and quiet, pretending to sleep though her face was hot with humiliation. Smoke didn’t even notice; he was too far gone in his torment.

And back in the next room, Stack had Annie pinned beneath him, her body trembling with each deep thrust. His hand slid up her thigh, hooking her leg higher as he groaned into her neck.

“Say my name again,” he ordered, his breath hot against her skin.

“Elias,” she gasped, nails dragging down his back. “Don’t stop–please don’t stop…”

He kissed her hard, swallowing her moans, the bed squeaking louder as he drove into her with everything he had, as if determined to leave no part of her untouched, no doubt in her mind who she belonged to in this moment.

Stack shifted his weight, pressing Annie deeper into the mattress, his body caging hers in completely. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging in, clinging like she needed him closer.

“Look at me,” he growled, pulling back just enough so she’d meet his eyes. His pace slowed into deep, punishing thrusts, each one making her gasp louder. “I want to see your face when you fall apart for me.”

Her lips parted, a whimper escaping as he rolled his hips harder into her, the angle hitting her just right. Her back arched, her breasts pressed against his chest, and she was barely breathing between moans.

“Stack…I can’t hold it,” she gasped, trembling under him.

“C’mon,” he murmured against her lips, his voice ragged, his thrusts relentless. His hand slid down between them, fingers circling her clit with just enough pressure to make her cry out. “Give it to me, Annie.”

The sound of his voice tore through her restraint. Her body arched hard into him as her climax ripped through her, loud moans spilling into the room. Her legs tightened around his waist, holding him inside her as wave after wave pulsed through her body.

Stack kissed her through it, swallowing her cries, his hips grinding into her as if to make sure she felt him in every inch of her release. He didn’t let up until she was trembling, clinging to him, her voice hoarse from moaning his name.

Stack couldn’t hold back much longer with the way Annie’s body was clenching around him. His thrusts grew sharper, his pace messy with urgency until he buried himself deep inside her with a groan, spilling into her. Annie cried out, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close as her body trembled through the last waves of her release.

For a moment, neither of them moved, their breaths heavy and mingled, sweat sticking their skin together. Stack finally eased out, but not before kissing her deeply, his lips lingered like he’s still trying to say something without words. Annie shifted into him, and he wraped an arm tight around her waist, pressing her head against his chest.

The air in the room was still heavy with the scent of them, sheets tangled and damp from their bodies. Stack was awake first, though he hadn’t moved, just laid there with one arm tucked behind his head, watching Annie’s chest rise and fall against him. When she finally stirred, untangling herself from his hold, he didn’t try to stop her. He just watched.

Now, in the soft light of morning, Annie stood by the dresser pulling her dress over her head, smoothing the fabric down her thighs. She was quiet, her focus on small things like earrings, the ribbon in her hair, the soft scuff of her boots on the floor. Stack sat up slowly, sheets pooling around his waist, his eyes never leaving her.

“You know,” Annie started, her voice even though she didn’t look at him, “you can come see me whenever you want now.”

Stack’s jaw flexed as he studied her, and for a long moment he said nothing. Then, quietly but firm, “I don’t want to have to go there to see you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “When I can have you right here. If you would just stay.”

Annie’s hands stilled on her earrings. She finally glanced at him through the mirror, their eyes meeting. She gave a faint shake of her head, lips pressed together like she’d rehearsed this answer a hundred times. “I told you I ain’t ready.”

The words landed heavy, the kind of final that wasn’t final at all, but neither of them dared push further. Stack blew out a breath, then stood, not caring that he was still naked. His steps were slow but deliberate as he came up behind her, the heat of him searing against her back before he even touched her.

His hands slid to her waist, gripping firmly, grounding her in place. Annie’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. She lifted one earring to her lobe, and Stack leaned down, his mouth brushing the sensitive skin of her neck.

“You sure you gotta leave right now?” His voice was low, rough, the kind of sound that carried last night’s hunger into the daylight. He kissed her neck, lips trailing slow and purposeful, and she closed her eyes for a beat, her hand faltering with the earring.

“Stack…” she whispered, not quite warning, not quite surrender.

But he didn’t press, not yet. He just held her there, his mouth moving against her skin, letting the question hang in the air between them.

Annie steadied her hands against the dresser, trying to fasten the back of her earring, but Stack’s palms were already sliding from her waist to her hips, kneading, claiming. His mouth trailed hot down her neck, and she tilted her head slightly to keep her balance, eyes flicking up to the mirror.

“Stack,” she tried again, but her voice was more like breath than protest.

He caught her gaze in the reflection, lips ghosting over her ear as his hand slid down the front of her dress, cupping her through the fabric. “You don’t sound too sure,” he murmured, and the way her eyelids fluttered shut for just a second gave her away.

Her earrings clinked against the wood as she dropped them, bracing both hands on the dresser. Stack nudged her legs apart with his knee, pressing forward until she felt the hard length of him against her backside. He didn’t waste time, one hand gripped her hip, the other pushed her dress up, bunching the fabric around her waist.

Annie locked eyes with herself in the mirror, chest rising and falling fast, while Stack slid into her with one sharp thrust. She gasped, her lips parting as her nails scraped against the dresser top.

Their reflections were almost too much. The raw urgency in his face, the way her expression betrayed how badly she wanted this even as she swore she needed to leave.

“Look at you,” Stack rasped, his grip tightening on her hips as he drove into her. “You say you ain’t ready to stay, but your body don’t lie.”

Her answer was a choked moan, her eyes rolling back before locking again on the mirror. Each thrust pushed her forward, her palms sliding against the wood, the dresser creaking under the rhythm.

“Stack…” she breathed, her voice breaking on his name. She watched the way he bent her over, watching the hunger in his eyes as he fucked her like he was trying to leave proof on her skin.

It was fast, both of them chasing the edge. Her thighs quivered, her lips parted, and the sound of their bodies filled the room.

Stack lowered his chest to her back, his hand snaking up to her throat, holding her head steady so she couldn’t escape her own reflection. “Take it,” he growled against her ear, his hips slamming harder.

Her climax hit quickly. Her whole body arching as she bit down on her lip to muffle the cry, but he didn’t let her hide. His hand tightened lightly on her throat, forcing her eyes open so he could watch her unravel in the mirror.

Seconds later he groaned while pulling her flush against him as he spilled inside her, their reflection capturing every shudder, every desperate press of their bodies before they both sagged against the dresser.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Annie gave a shaky laugh, grabbing her earrings off the dresser with trembling fingers. “That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Stack smirked against her skin, still holding her close. “Yeah, but it did.”

The first night back was smooth. The brothel was humming with life. Music carried through the halls, glasses clinked in rhythm with laughter, and the glow of lamplight painted everything in warm gold.

Annie moved through the floor with the same sharp grace she always had, but tonight there was something sharper about her step, more deliberate in the way her eyes scanned the room.

She kept her focus on the girls. They were pulling men in at the door, their flirtation effortless, already stacking cash on the side table. There was a dice game going with a pair of wealthy travelers, the men too deep in liquor and charm to notice how much money they were bleeding. Upstairs, the rooms were filling one by one, the muffled sounds of deals and pleasure blending into the house’s symphony. But with new girls in the mix, Annie expected some mishaps. And she got them.

The first came when one of the newer girls, barely three weeks in, spilled a drink in the lap of a paying customer. He was a merchant with too much mouth and not enough patience, and his voice boomed over the music. Annie was on him before anyone else could step in.

“Sir,” she said smoothly, sliding between him and the girl, “we’ll get you cleaned up right away, and your next round’s on the house.”

The merchant grumbled, glaring, but Annie didn’t flinch. She motioned for another girl to fetch towels, then leaned close enough for only him to hear. “You raise your voice at one of my girls again, you won’t like how this ends.”

The man blinked at her, reading the steel in her eyes, and finally nodded, his temper cooling. Annie flashed him a smile sharp enough to cut and turned to the new girl. “Accidents happen, but composure is everything. Get him a fresh drink.”

Later in the night, another rookie found herself cornered by a man who wanted more than he paid for. Annie caught sight of her stiff posture from across the room. She was there in seconds, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“She’s not available for that,” Annie said evenly, eyes locking on the man.

“She said she–”

“I don’t care she said no.” Annie’s tone was final. Her hand never left the girl’s shoulder, grounding her. “You want something else, you pay for it. Otherwise, you enjoy what you bought, or you take your money and your attitude out the door.”

The man looked like he wanted to argue, but Lightning’s laugh boomed from across the room. He was sitting back in his chair, watching Annie handle it. The man shut his mouth quickly, muttered something under his breath, and settled.

The girl exhaled shakily once Annie guided her away. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. Just remember your no is law in this house. Anybody gives you trouble, you come to me. Every single time.” Annie’s voice softened, but her authority never wavered.

By the time the night was nearing its end, the house had pulled in stacks of money. The new girls had their stumbles, sure, but Annie’s hand kept everything tight. Drinks were flowing, men were satisfied, and the women were safe.

As she stood near the staircase, scanning the floor one last time, she caught Lightning’s gaze. He was still in his corner, cigar glowing, watching her with that unreadable expression of his. He didn’t step in once.

The house was quiet again by the time Annie and Lightning sat at the long table in the back room. The only sounds were the clink of coins, the shuffle of bills, and the faint crackle of Lightning’s cigar. The girls were either asleep or counting their own cut upstairs.

Annie sat with her sleeves rolled up, eyes sharp as she sorted the money. Every dollar was laid out neat in front of her, her fingers moving quick and sure. She spoke as she worked, her voice steady.

“First round was smooth. Ruby did well pulling in at the door, but we’re gonna need to train some of the new girls better on how to handle spills. And I had to step in twice when men tried to press boundaries. The girls are still a little too hesitant to enforce the rules themselves. That’s something I’ll go over tomorrow.”

She didn’t look up or slow down. She was all business, hands working the stacks of bills into perfect lines. Lightning, though, wasn’t watching the money. He was just watching her.

The cigar burned low between his fingers, smoke curling up lazy in the air. His eyes followed every flick of her wrist, every shift of her mouth when she spoke, and the more she talked, the quieter he became.

Finally, he cut in. “I missed you.”

The words dropped heavy, nothing like her matter-of-fact tone. Annie froze for half a second, the rhythm of her hands stopping. She glanced at him, her face carefully blank, her voice flat when she answered.

“I know.”

She went right back to counting. Her fingers moved, but her mind buzzed. Lightning leaned forward, elbows on the table, his eyes still locked on her.

“I’ll do anything for you. You know that,” he said, his voice low and rough, almost like he was trying to convince himself.

Annie stacked the last of the bills and slid the neat pile across the table to him. “I know.”

Silence stretched out between them, thick and heavy. Annie finally pushed her chair back, rising to her feet. “I’m tired. I’m heading off to bed.”

She turned to leave, her steps measured, but before she could take more than two, Lightning’s hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist. He didn’t grab it rough like before, but tight enough to stop her. He gave a small tug, pulling her closer until she had to shift her feet.

Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at him. “What you want from me?”

Lightning tilted his head back, his gaze shadowed in the lamplight. “I’m really sorry about what happened.”

Annie’s expression didn’t soften, didn’t change. She stared at him for a long beat before answering. “I know you’re sorry. But I also know the kind of man you are.”

That hit him harder than he let on. He grunted, shifting the cigar between his fingers, smoke trailing in the space between them. His other hand tightened briefly on hers before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of it. She let him kiss her hand, then slipped free from his grip and walked off toward her room, leaving him there with the money and the smoke.

The morning light spilled through the thin curtains of the boarding house dining room, the air thick with the smell of coffee, fried potatoes, and fresh bread. The table was quiet except for the scrape of forks and the low clink of dishes. Stack sat leaned back in his chair, his eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep. Smoke sat opposite him, shoulders tense, barely touching his food. Rosalie, perfectly put together as always, was sipping her coffee slowly.

It had been a comfortable silence, until Rosalie set her cup down and broke it.

“We need to leave soon.”

Stack’s head snapped around, his face screwing up instantly. His fork clattered against his plate. “The hell you mean, ‘leave soon’? Ain’t nobody said nothing about leaving.”

Rosalie smoothed her napkin over her lap and looked between the brothers, calm as ever. “I got word this morning that word’s traveled about us being here. They know where we are now. They’re only a few days out.”

Stack sat up straighter, his jaw working. “Man, you lying. That don’t make no damn sense. How the hell they find out?”

“Because people talk,” Rosalie shot back, her tone sharp but cool. “This ain’t some hidden hole in the wall. Folks in this town saw us, talked about us, and now it’s gotten back to the wrong ears. We can’t stay here and play house when death is literally riding in our direction.”

Stack’s nostrils flared. He leaned forward on the table, voice low and hard. “I ain’t going nowhere. Not yet. Not without–” He cut himself off, but the meaning was loud enough.

Rosalie rolled her eyes at him, the corners of her mouth tightening. “Of course. You’d risk all our lives over her?”

Before Stack could explode again, Smoke finally spoke. His voice was quieter, but sharper, like a blade being drawn. “Shut up, Rosalie.”

Rosalie whipped her head toward him, brows raised, surprised at his tone. But Smoke didn’t back down. He just glared at her, eyes dark, jaw tight.

“I ain’t leaving yet either,” he said flatly. 

Rosalie scoffed, crossing her arms, her irritation bubbling. “Y’all are acting like fools. You think Annie’s gonna save you when that gang comes tearing through this place? You think she’s worth dying for?”

Stack slammed his palm down on the table hard enough to make the dishes rattle. “Watch your mouth.”

Rosalie’s lips pressed into a thin line, Smoke’s eyes stayed locked on her like he might tear her apart, and Stack just sat there breathing heavy, his whole body vibrating with frustration.

Rosalie leaned back in her chair, her voice cutting through the quiet. “Believe what you want. But when they get here, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Y’all need to walk away.”

Stack was quick to protest, his chair scraped against the floor as he leaned forward. “Hold on, hold on, we ain’t just walking away from this shit,” he snapped, pointing a finger toward Rosalie. “That ain’t how it works.”

Rosalie immediately stiffened, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms. “Of course you’d say that,” she fired back, her voice sharp. “You and your brother can’t stand the idea of leaving Annie to her own damn life. And maybe if you twins left her alone for five minutes, she wouldn’t be stuck in this endless circle of chaos. You ever think about that? No, of course not. Because you two need her. You’re addicted to the chaos.”

Stack smirked, though his jaw was tight. “Addicted? Sweetheart, I don’t need shit. Least of all your damn commentary.”

“You’re blind, Stack. Blind to the fact that she’s trying to stand on her own. Every time she takes a step forward, you’re there dragging her two steps back, reminding her she’s fragile when she’s not. She can’t breathe with you in the room. You and Smoke suffocate her. And if you really gave a damn about her, you’d know when to leave her the hell alone.” Her voice rose, sharp enough to cut.

Stack opened his mouth, but Rosalie cut him off, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m done. I’m done arguing with brick walls.”

With that, she stormed off and the room went quiet except for Stack’s heavy breathing. He watched the door for a long moment, his hand twitching near his side as if he was imagining his gun there. He muttered under his breath before turning to Smoke, his voice sharp with restrained fury.

“Man, you better get her before I do. ‘Cause I swear to God, Smoke, I was this close to putting a bullet in her face.”

Annie spent the whole day fluttering through the brothel, checking in on the ladies and going over the rules again. Now, night settled heavy over the town.

She was upstairs in her room, perched in front of her mirror, steady hands fastening the last hook of her corset. The wine-red silk hugged her body like it was stitched just for her, pushing her breasts up perfectly so the swell of them could catch the soft glow of lamplight. She smoothed the skirt over her hips, adjusting it so it fell just right, and leaned closer to touch up her lips, leaving them full and glossy.

Her hair wass styled into a regal updo, curls pinned high with just enough loose tendrils to frame her face. When she stood, the faint scent of her perfume followed.

Annie took one last look at herself, tilted her chin with a satisfied little smirk, and stepped away from the mirror. Tonight, she didn’t just look like Madam Annie, she was one, every inch of her demanding respect the second she walked into view.

Her heels clicked against the stairs as she made her descent. The girls who’d been waiting for her presence looked up immediately, their faces lit up with relief and excitement. Annie didn’t hesitate or stall. She swept to the center of the parlor with that natural authority that made the whole house shift to her rhythm.

“Open the doors,” she commanded.

The words barely left her mouth before the front doors were swung wide. A flood of people poured in almost instantly. Coins clinked, boots scuffed across the polished floor, and voices rose as the parlor filled with bodies and heat.

Within minutes, the brothel was alive. The music started up, girls greeted familiar faces with painted smiles, laughter echoed up toward the balcony. Dice rolled at tables in the corner, glasses were poured quick and steady, and the whole house hummed like a living, breathing thing.

Annie stood at the heart of it all, wine-red corset gleaming in the lamplight. She watched her empire come to life around her. She didn’t smile, but there was pride in her eyes. The girls were working, the money was flowing, and for tonight everything was under her control.

By the time the night was halfway through, the brothel was moving in a way that made the walls thrum. The tables were packed shoulder to shoulder, dice clattered and cards snapped down with shouts of victory and curses of loss. The band in the corner played a rowdy tune, and people danced in the open space near the floor. 

The girls were in full stride, giggling as they slipped onto laps, whispering into ears, pulling eager men by their ties or belt loops toward the stairwell. Doors upstairs opened and closed every few minutes, heels clicked down the hallway, the creak of beds muffled under the constant hum of business.

Annie moved through it all like the center of gravity itself. Her corset gleamed wine-red under the lights, and every head seemed to turn when she passed. She took her time, touching a shoulder here, smoothing a stray curl behind one of her girl’s ears there, making sure everything ran clean, smooth, and profitable.

“Annie!”

The call came from a table in the corner, rowdy voices layered with drunken cheer. It was a group of men who’d been around long enough to know her name and throw money just for a smile. She pivoted toward them, already smiling, letting her hips sway as she approached.

“Well, well,” she greeted, voice warm as honey. “Y’all behaving yourselves tonight?”

They laughed. Compliments rained down on her. They told her how she looked better than ever, how they missed her presence, how she’s the real reason they come around. Annie took it in stride, her smile easy, her eyes glinted as she leaned on the edge of the table. She flirted back just enough to keep them eager, brushing her fingers over one man’s shoulder as she teased another about losing his hand at cards.

One of them whistled, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Give us a spin, Annie girl. Let us get the full picture.”

She arched an eyebrow, but she obliged, turning slowly with a little sway, letting the wine-red silk catch the light, the curve of her hips and the line of her back showcased like it was part of the show. The men cheered, clapping, a few slapping coins on the table like she’s just won them over again.

“Beautiful,” one of them said, shaking his head in awe. “Worth every penny.”

They signaled for another round of drinks, slipping her a fat wad of bills when she leaned in close enough to take it. Annie tucked it away without missing a beat. “Coming right up,” she promised.

She turned, weaving through the crowd toward the bar, her skirt flowing behind her. She put in their order, her tone brisk but still carrying that effortless authority that made the bartenders snap to attention. Drinks in hand, she glided back toward the table, placing the glasses down with the same grace as though she was presenting fine jewels.

“Now that’s service,” one of them lifted his drink to her. Another, who was braver with liquor warming his blood, patted his thigh.

“Come on, Annie. Sit with us a while. Haven’t had you in my lap in ages.”

She hesitated just long enough to make them think it over, then she smirked. She knew how to play this game. How to make them feel like kings without ever giving away her crown. But before she could lower herself, a sharp voice cut across the noise.

“Annie!”

It was one of her girls, calling from across the room, urgency written clear in her tone. Annie’s head lifted immediately, her instincts pulled her eyes in the direction of the call. And there, standing just inside the doorway, broad shoulders stiff, eyes fixed straight on her, was Smoke. And the shift was instant.

Her smile faded, the playful curve of her mouth flattened. The flirtatious ease in her body hardened to stillness, her posture straightening. The room didn’t notice, too lost in its own chaos, but Annie felt it like a weight dropping straight through her chest.

The man with his hand on her thigh chuckled, not catching the change in her mood. “What’s wrong, darlin’? Don’t tell me you’re shy all of a sudden.”

But Annie’s eyes were locked on Smoke, her whole mood flipped in an instant. She didn’t answer, her gaze and every bit of her focus tethered to the man in the doorway.

Annie slipped herself away from the man’s lap, smoothing her skirt back into place. “Gentlemen,” she had a practiced smile, “enjoy your drinks.”

The group groaned in protest, calling her back, but she had already turned. Her heels click across the floor, the music and laughter still roared around her, but to Annie it was all muffled. The edges of the night blurred the second her eyes locked back on Smoke.

She came to a stop in front of him, close enough to smell the faint mix of smoke and leather clinging to him. Her face was blank with no hint of warmth or playfulness left in it. She just stared.

Smoke stared back, and for the first time in years there was something on his face that wasn't hardened. His eyes were burning with a rushed sort of hope, like he didn’t want to waste this chance. His jaw worked, but no words came right away. Annie only raised one brow, the silence between them stretched until he finally forced something out.

“Can we talk?”

Her response was sharp and dismissive. She lifted her hand and waved it in a little talking motion, tilting her head mockingly. The blankness on her face didn’t shift. Her eyes bored into him as though she was testing just how far he was willing to go.

Smoke noded, swallowing down whatever pride he had left. “In private?”

Annie let out a loud, audible huff, her eyes rolled so hard it was nearly theatrical. She didn’t bother sparing him another look. She just spun on her heel, the wine-red skirt of her outfit fanning with the movement, and strided off toward the stairs.

Smoke didn’t hesitate to follow. His feet moved quick behind her, his gaze locked on her body as it moved, the sway of her hips made his throat dry. His eyes traced every line, every curve, like he was trying to memorize it all over again.

A couple of the girls near the stairwell elbowed each other, their whispers cut under the music.

“Look at that. He’s about to get himself killed.”

“Or laid,” another giggles, covering her mouth.

“She hates him, don’t she?”

“Not enough to stop walking him upstairs.”

Their eyes followed the pair until Annie and Smoke disappeared up the stairs, swallowed by the dim glow of the hallway above, leaving the murmurs trailing in their wake.

Upstairs, the noise from the brothel faded to a distant hum, leaving only the low creak of the floorboards beneath Annie’s heels as she walked into her room. Without a word, she headed straight to her vanity. The soft lamplight glinted off the big mirror, throwing her reflection back at her.

Behind her, the door clicked shut. Smoke didn’t move far from it, his big frame blocked most of the light from the hall. His presence filled the room, heavy and suffocating, but Annie didn’t even acknowledge him. She stayed turned away from him, her fingers fussing with the clasps of her earrings at her vanity, her reflection sharp and cold in the mirror. The silence dragged heavy between them, broken only by the faint rustle of her skirt and the clink of jewelry being set down.

“I really need to talk to you,” Smoke finally said, his voice low but rough, like gravel under boots.

Annie just kept on, sliding rings from her fingers, tugging the long dangling earrings from her ears. Her movements were deliberate, almost exaggerated in their calmness, as though he wasn’t even in the room.

The muscles in Smoke’s jaw twitched. His patience wore thin. He took a step forward, the floor groaning under his weight, but she still didn’t turn around. She opened her jewelry box and started digging through it, her bracelets clinked lightly against the wood.

That does it. His chest swelled and he bellowed her name. “Annie!”

The sound ricocheted around the room, making her freeze for a heartbeat before she whirled around. Her eyes were blazing, her mouth tight, her whole body tensed like a bowstring pulled back.

“Don’t shout at me.” she snapped, fire lacing the single word.

Smoke’s nostrils flared, his eyes dark and stormy as he threw his arms out in frustration. “I’m tryin’ to talk to you, and you’re makin’ it damn near impossible!”

Annie’s laugh was humorless. She shook her head, taking a single step closer so the lamplight caught the steel in her eyes. “No, see, that’s where you’re wrong. I already said all I need to say. You’re the one who needs to do the talking, Smoke. Not me.”

The fire in Annie’s gaze stayed lit. Her arms were folded under her breasts, waiting, daring him to finally say something worth her time. On the other side of the room, Smoke’s hand drug down his face, shoulders heavy. When his hand fell, his eyes locked on Annie like she was the only thing keeping him standing.

“I know I messed up,” he started, voice low, almost strangled. “Leavin’ you the way I did eats at me every damn day. I thought maybe you’d be better off without me, thought you were strong enough to make it on your own. Hell, maybe I was just scared I couldn’t give you what you needed.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed, her arms crossed tighter against her chest. “You right, you couldn’t. And you didn’t. You left me standin’ in the ashes with nothin’ but my own name to carry.”

Smoke winced like she’d struck him, but he didn't back down. He took a step forward. “I’m tellin’ you I’m sorry, Annie. I still love you–”

That’s when Annie cut him off, her voice sharp enough to slice the air. “Your feelings for me don’t matter, Smoke. Not anymore, remember? We talked about this. You’re married now.”

The word hit like a slap. His brows knit, his mouth opened to fire back. “Don’t throw that at me like it means I don’t still feel what I feel! Rosalie ain’t you, she never could be–”

Annie scoffed so hard it shook her whole body. “Don’t you dare stand in here and try to cheapen another woman ‘cause you don’t like the bed you lay in. You made your choice!”

“I didn’t choose her over you!” Smoke bellowed, his chest heaving. He took another step, his shadow looming larger. “You think it was easy? You think I wanted this?”

Annie’s voice rose to match his, eyes blazing. “You wanted it enough to stay gone! You wanted it enough to let me rot in a place where I ain’t had nobody but myself to depend on! So don’t stand here like some wounded saint actin’ like you didn’t know what the hell you were doin’!”

The space between them shrunk with every shout. Their bodies, drawn by fury, inched closer until they were only a breath apart.

Smoke’s jaw was clenched so hard his teeth were grinding, his breath was hot and ragged. “You think I don’t know I ruined us? You think I don’t replay that night over and over in my head?!”

Annie’s hands shook where they were pressed to her arms, but her glare didn't waver. “Then what the hell you want from me, huh? You want me to pat your back? Wipe your tears? Tell you it’s all right that you left me to pick up the pieces alone?”

They were closer now, chest to chest with only breaths between them, anger feeding the pull instead of pushing it away. Annie took a quick step back to get away, her shoulder blades hitting her vanity. The sound of a trinket tipping over echoed, fragile against the storm brewing in the room.

Her hand grabbed the nearest thing, a perfume bottle, and she hurled it at him. It missed, shattering against the floor. “Get out!”

“Annie–”

She reached for something else, but before she could throw it, his hand shot out and caught her wrist. His grip was firm, steady and refusing to let go. Her other hand trembled, hovering over the jewelry box. Her eyes burned, angry tears slipping free even as she tried to blink them back.

“Let me go!” she snapped, her voice breaking.

“Not until you listen,” he growled, low and commanding.

They were both breathing hard, but the heat between them was twisting into something dangerous. Annie’s body trembled under his hold, not just from rage but from the pull she hated herself for feeling. Her tears caught the dim light, her lips trembling as she spat back, but her voice faltered halfway through.

And then, as if pulled by something bigger than either of them, their mouths crashed together.

It was rough, furious, teeth clashing and lips bruising. Smoke’s hand left her wrist and seized her waist, yanking her flush against him. She didn’t shove him away. Instead, her anger bled into the kiss, her fists curling into his shirt, dragging him closer.

Their mouths were hungry. Each kiss was a fight. Annie gasped against him, her head spinning, her tears mingling with the heat of his lips. Smoke kissed her like he was trying to make up for every word he hadn’t spoken, every night he hadn’t stayed.

Her back pressed hard against the vanity, knocking over bottles and brushes, but she didn’t care. Her body arched into him, the taste of him and the feel of his grip melting away the fury until all that was left was the ache, the longing she had buried too deep. His hands roamed her body, greedy, mapping the curves he hadn’t touched in so long. She clung to him, not pulling away, her anger drowned out by the thrum of desire, the old feelings she’d never been able to kill. 

He tore his lips from hers just long enough to rasp against her skin, his breath hot, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m so damn sorry.” Each word was rough, swallowed into her neck as his mouth traced feverish kisses along the slope of her throat.

Annie’s breathing stuttered, sharp and uneven, her chest rising and falling rapidly against his. Her fingers slipped from his shoulders, reaching blindly for the vanity to keep herself grounded. Bottles clattered beneath her grip as she clenched the edge, knuckles white, trying to steady herself even as the ground felt like it was shifting under her.

Her head tilted back, exposing her throat to him, eyes squeezed shut as his mouth pressed harder, sucking, biting, apologizing again and again into her skin. The sound of it, the feel of it, made her shudder.

Her body burned, her pulse thundering in her ears. She could feel it between her thighs. How her arousal pooled and ached, how the heat had grown so fierce she was sure she was dripping. Every ragged breath she took only made it worse, made it harder to think. Logic was slipping away, crumbling under the weight of lust and memory, leaving her trembling, vulnerable, and craving.

Smoke’s hands gripped her tighter, sliding along her corset, her hips, pressing her closer as though he needed to brand her against him. The hunger in his kiss, in the way he whispered apologies like prayers, left her undone, every part of her screaming to give in even as her mind scrambled for control.

Smoke pulled back from her neck, breathing hard, his eyes locking onto hers with a fire that said more than words ever could. He didn’t speak. He just lifted her with a sudden, urgent strength, setting her down on the edge of the vanity. Bottles rattled, a hairbrush clattered to the floor, but Annie barely noticed.

Her skirt was pushed up before she could think, her legs spread by his large hands, and then he was dropping to his knees. The sight of him there kneeling in front of her like a man starved, made her chest tighten.

“Smoke–” she started, her voice catching, but then his head disappeared beneath her skirts. The hot press of his mouth found her center and Annie’s whole body jolted. A cry broke from her lips before she could stop it, her hand flying back to clutch the edge of the vanity for balance.

His tongue moved with a desperation that made her gasp, lick after lick like he was trying to carve his apology into her flesh. He ate at her like a man trying to undo years of mistakes, like every stroke of his tongue was another apology, another plea, another confession.

Her head fell back, eyes squeezed shut, the room spinning. “Oh–fuck–” she whimpered, her fingers scrabbling for something, anything to hold onto. She found the vanity edge again, found a perfume bottle, found the fabric of her own skirt bunched in her fist. But none of it steadied her.

Her moans came in waves, loud and unrestrained, spilling out of her as her chest rose and fell in quick bursts. She tried to catch her breath, tried to stifle the sounds, but her body betrayed her. Her hips twitched, thighs trembled, her voice broke into desperate cries as Smoke devoured her.

It was too much, too raw, too overwhelming. She wanted to push him away, to tell him to stop because her mind couldn’t keep up, but her body clung to him, opening wider, giving him everything he demanded. Every flick of his tongue was another shatter in her walls, every groan from him against her made her wetter, hotter, more undone.

Her fingers shot down to his head, tangling in his hair, not guiding him so much as holding on for dear life. “Oh, God…” she gasped, her voice breaking into moans she couldn’t hold back.

Her chest heaved, her body arched, and all she could do was surrender to the storm of it. His mouth, his hunger, the way he was tearing her apart and piecing her back together all in the same moment.

Annie’s body jerked as the climax tore through her, loud gasps and moans spilling out of her until her whole frame shook. It was so strong, so blinding, that when it finally ebbed she slumped back against the vanity like she’d given every last ounce of herself.

Smoke rose from between her thighs, his mouth glistening, his breath ragged. He didn’t say a word at first. He simply grabbed her face and kissed her, hot and rough, letting her taste herself on his tongue. Annie moaned into his mouth, her body still quivering, too sensitive and raw, her chest heaving like she couldn’t catch her breath.

When his hands started tugging her skirt down, she barely had the strength to move, but the wild and blazing look in his eyes pushed her. He stripped it off her hips and she wriggled out of it, stumbling forward a step as she kicked it away.

That was when she saw it. The glint in Smoke’s eyes. It wasn’t just lust or need, but something darker and more desperate. Something she had never seen in him before. It stole her breath.

His gaze dragged over her body, stopping at her corset. He cursed under his breath, fumbling with the ties, his voice rough and demanding: “Take this shit off.”

Annie’s fingers scrambled at the laces, hurried, frantic, tearing at them until the garment loosened. The second it hit the floor, Smoke’s hands were on her again, spinning her around so fast she gasped. Her palms hit the vanity, her reflection staring back at her. Her eyes were wide, lips parted, hair already tumbling loose.

Her chest rose and fell as he pressed in close behind her, the heat of his body searing against her bare back. Annie’s breath trembled as the intensity in the mirror showed her just how far gone he was, how far gone they were.

Smoke ripped his shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly to the floor, his hands already working at the buckle of his pants. Annie shifted, trying to look back at him, but he caught her chin firmly, forcing her gaze forward.

“Uh-uh,” he growled low, his voice rough with heat and something heavier. “Look at me in your eyes while I’m trying to apologize.”

Her reflection of flushed cheeks and swollen lips stared back. Annie swallowed hard, breath shivering as his hand slid down between her thighs.

Smoke freed himself with his other hand, the head of him brushing against her ass as he pushed his fingers through her folds. Annie exhaled a shaky breath, so close to a moan she bit down on it, but the sound still slipped out in a broken whimper.

Her body jolted under the touch. It was all too much, too good, too real. Every slow, deliberate stroke of his fingers dragged her further away from her usual control. Her knuckles whitened against the vanity’s edge as her legs trembled.

“Fuck…” she gasped softly, the word barely formed, her chest rising and falling like she couldn’t get air.

His voice, his grip on her face, the raw intensity burning in the reflection was all too overwhelming. Annie could feel herself unraveling, losing the tight hold she always kept, and it terrified her almost as much as it made her ache for more.

Smoke’s hands slid up her thighs, rough and sure, pushing them apart until she was spread wide for him. He pressed forward without hesitation, the thick heat of him stretching into her all at once.

Annie gasped sharply, the sound caught in her throat, while Smoke let out a guttural grunt. His head dropped forward for a second as he sank deep. A low raspy groan escaped him like the feeling alone might undo him.

He pulled back and began thrusting, hard and deep, the mirror in front of them catching every move. Annie’s mouth fell open in a perfect O, her hand slipping from the vanity to dangle weakly at her side. No sound came out, just broken breaths and the faintest whimper as her body tried to keep up with him.

She was trembling, fighting to keep her mind steady, fighting not to get lost in the rush of heat and memory and lust. But then, Smoke started talking.

“Yeah,” he gritted out between thrusts, his breath hot against her ear, “you feel that? That’s me tellin’ you I’m sorry. That’s me puttin’ it all back where it should’ve been.”

The words cut through her, stoking the fire already raging in her belly. Annie’s body betrayed her. She was clenching down on him so hard it nearly forced him still. Smoke’s jaw flexed as he growled low in frustration and pleasure, landing a sharp smack to her ass that echoed through the room.

“C’mon, baby,” he rasped, thrusting harder, desperate, “Stop fightin’ me. Let me apologize to you right.”

Her reflection was wild, her body giving in even as she tried to hold back. Annie’s nails dug into the edge of the vanity, her knuckles white as Smoke drove into her over and over. Her body was traitorous, but her mind was fighting, clawing, refusing to let him take everything.

Her jaw locked as she tried to collect herself, eyes squeezed shut, biting down on her lip until it hurt. She forced words out between ragged breaths, her voice shaking but sharp enough to try and cut through his hold. For a heartbeat, she felt like she’d grabbed hold of something. Like maybe her words gave her the power back.

But Smoke was relentless. His hand came down hard on her ass again, the sharp crack echoing through the room. 

“You can’t just–” Annie’s moan tore out of her before she could catch it, loud, broken, needy. Her head dropped forward, forehead nearly hitting the mirror as her breath fogged up the glass.

“Shut up,” Smoke growled, voice low, thick with lust and anger and regret all tangled up. His grip on her hip tightened, pulling her back into him with each brutal thrust.

The sting of the slap burned, but instead of pain, it sent another jolt of heat ripping through her body. Annie moaned again, louder this time, the sound raw, her fight slipping even as she tried to hold onto it. Her reflection in the mirror told the truth she didn’t want to admit–her mouth open, eyes unfocused, body rocking helplessly under him.

Smoke’s hand clamped around the back of Annie’s neck, firm but not cruel, guiding her up until her spine arched and she was forced to look at herself in the mirror. Her chest rose and fell in jagged breaths, lips parted, skin flushed, her eyes glistening with equal parts fury and need.

His mouth hovered by her ear, voice low and rough as gravel. “What do you see?” he asked, pressing into her with slow, deliberate thrusts that made it impossible for her to answer right away.

Annie shook her head, biting her lip hard, but Smoke wasn’t letting her escape. His grip on her neck tightened just enough to steady her trembling body.

“I’ll tell you what I see,” he went on, his words dripping into her like fire. “I see a beautiful woman who needed her man back to love her right.”

Annie’s chest tightened, a sob catching in her throat. She wanted to fight it, wanted to hold onto the scraps of strength she’d been clinging to since the day he left, but the dam inside her cracked.

Smoke’s voice softened, but the ache in it was unbearable. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I left you so broken in the first place.”

That was it. The words cut through all her walls, all her protests. Her head dropped back against his shoulder, tears slipping down her cheeks as a loud, shattered moan escaped her lips. Whatever control she thought she had dissolved right there in his arms.

Smoke recognized the way her body gave in, the way her walls clenched around him with no resistance left. His jaw clenched, his own emotions tangled in the way she broke for him. He picked up speed, driving into her deeper, harder, his hips hitting that spot inside her that made her legs shake and her moans tumble out one after the other, raw and unrestrained.

The mirror reflected the truth neither of them could deny anymore: Annie undone, finally surrendering, and Smoke pushing her there with every thrust, every word, every ounce of regret pouring out of him.

Smoke’s movements were relentless, every thrust a declaration of his regret and need. Annie’s body shuddered under him, overwhelmed with sensation, yet he didn’t ease up. Her climax had just hit, but he wasn’t done; he was far from done.

Her breaths came in sharp, stuttering gasps as moans and whimpers escaped her lips. “Elijah,” she called, her voice breaking between each desperate plea, the sound barely more than a whisper. Her hand instinctively reached back, trying to grip his pelvis or thigh, to slow him down or maybe regain some semblance of control, but Smoke wasn’t having it.

His grip on her arm tightened, holding it firmly behind her back, forcing her vulnerability into submission. Then he leaned down, pressing his lips to her cheek in a fleeting, cruelly tender kiss before pushing her forward so her entire upper body pressed against the vanity.

“I ain’t done apologizin’ yet,” he growled into her ear, his voice low and possessive, and immediately drove into her at a punishing speed. The sudden intensity made her cry out, her whole body trembling with the force and heat of his thrusts.

Her mind was a storm of sensation and emotion. Mixes of lust, frustration, desire, and the jagged edges of their history crashing together. She was entirely at his mercy, and every movement of his, every pull and push, every sound that left his lips, drove her further into the overwhelming heat of their shared past and present.

Her legs shook against the vanity, her hands clawing at the edge, gripping it for balance while Smoke continued, each thrust deeper and faster, relentless in both his desire and his apology. Annie’s cries and whimpers filled the room, raw and unrestrained, mingling with his grunts and the sharp sound of their bodies colliding. She was drowning in him, and he was making sure she couldn’t escape physically nor emotionally until he’d said all the words he couldn’t before.

Smoke’s grip on Annie was absolute. Her hands pinned behind her back, her body forced down onto the vanity, completely under his control. Every attempt she made to twist or escape was blocked, restrained, and his hold was unyielding. With his free hand, he lifted one of her legs and propped it onto the vanity, holding it there firmly so she couldn’t move or pull away. The angle drove them both wild. Every thrust hitting just the right spot, making them both moan and groan with the intensity of it.

Annie was completely undone. Her chest rubbed against the cool surface of the vanity, every rise and fall of her breasts accentuating the pressure of his movement. Her mouth hung open, ragged breaths escaping, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down her cheeks. She called out his name in a plea of desperation, lust, and surrender “Elijah…please”.

Her mind was a chaotic tangle of need and confusion. She didn’t know whether she wanted him to slow, to show her mercy, or to keep driving her over the edge again and again. Every nerve in her body was electrified, every sense focused on him, on the heat and intensity of what he was doing.

Smoke responded to her every sound, every whimper, every shiver. His thrusts grew harder, faster, almost punishing, but beneath the roughness there was a fierce tenderness, an apology, a need to claim the moment fully. Her pleading only spurred him on, and he groaned low in his throat as he drove into her, their bodies moving in a rhythm of lust, power, and raw emotion.

Annie’s cries became louder, more desperate, and her body began to tremble uncontrollably. Her legs quivered, her back arched off the vanity despite his control, and she was teetering on the edge, lost entirely in him, in the way he was both punishing and worshiping her at the same time.

Annie’s climax hit her like a thunderclap. Her entire body convulsed, every nerve ending screaming in ecstasy. Stars seemed to explode behind her eyes, colors flashing in her mind, and she couldn’t breathe fast enough to catch up with the sensations. Her chest heaved, her back arched, and her thighs shook uncontrollably as she clung to the edge of the vanity for some semblance of balance.

Smoke pulled out slowly, releasing her hands and letting her tremble fully under the aftershocks. He grunted and groaned behind her, each sound thick with satisfaction and raw need, stroking himself rapidly as his own climax built. When he finally came, he let go completely, his release splattering across her ass and legs, warm and slick, a physical imprint of their shared intensity.

Annie’s body was still shaking, her breaths ragged and uneven, sweat coating her skin. She stayed pressed against the vanity, trying to recover, feeling utterly spent yet impossibly alive from the intensity of it. Smoke’s grunts and heavy breathing continued behind her, a steady reminder of the connection and the storm they had just passed through together.

Smoke climbed into the bed and sat against the headboard, just watching Annie with a quiet intensity. His eyes followed her every movement, and the steady rise and fall of his chest showed how much he was still riding the edge of his own release.

Annie finally gathered herself a little, forcing her legs to steady even though they were still shaky and sensitive. Her skin was hypersensitive, every touch from the sheets or the faint breeze made her shiver. Smoke’s deep, rough voice cuts through the quiet. “Come here,” he growled, his tone half-commanding, half-pleading. He tapped his leg, signaling for her to sit with him.

Annie wobbled forward, each step deliberate as she climbed onto the bed, wincing slightly as her body protested. Every movement reminded her of what just happened, but she pushed through. She crawled carefully until she was straddling him, her legs settling on either side of his hips. Smoke wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and guiding her so she sat comfortably on him. His hands rested on her hips, firm but gentle, anchoring her as her body quivers.

She leaned down slightly, her forehead brushing against his, and he kissed her temple softly, letting her feel grounded. “You okay?” he murmured against her skin. Annie nodded while exhaled shakily.

Smoke adjusted her gently, settling her more fully onto him. His chest was warm against her stomach, his hands slid lightly along her sides as if memorizing every curve again. She leans back slightly against him, letting the sensation of being held, protected, and desired wash over her. The quiet hum of their breathing filled the room, the tension of earlier replaced by something slower, tender, and intimate.

They stayed like that for a long moment. Her small, uneven breaths blended with his steadier ones. Smoke pressed a lingering kiss to her shoulder, then murmured into her ear, “I’ve got you.” Annie closed her eyes, letting the words anchor her, letting herself simply feel him, feel safe, feel wanted.

Her hands rested lightly on his chest, fingers tracing absent patterns, while his hands tightened just slightly around her waist, ensuring she didn't fall. Every slight movement she made sends tiny shocks of awareness through her, reminding her how sensitive she still was. Smoke nuzzled her neck softly, brushing his lips along her collarbone, eliciting tiny gasps and shivers from her.

Annie shifted slightly, leaning forward to press her lips against his. The kiss was soft and exploratory. Smoke responded immediately, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head while the other stayed firm on her hip, holding her steady. They kissed like this for a long while letting each other breathe and absorb the closeness.

“Elijah,” Annie whispered, her voice barely audible. 

And the way she looked into his eyes made him falter. His own eyes glistened, like tears were threatening to fall, and he whispered back, his voice hoarse, “I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.”

He pressed kisses everywhere he could, small, desperate gestures that showed his remorse and the depth of his feelings. Annie leaned into him, letting her head rest against his neck, and tears started streaming down her cheeks. Her whispers were muffled but urgent, “Elijah… please…” 

And he answered each one the same way, repeating, “I’m sorry, please forgive me, I’m sorry…please forgive me,” over and over, the words trembling on his lips.

Gently, deliberately, he slid them both down onto the bed, easing himself flat while propping his upper body slightly on the pillows. The weight of him, the feel of his body beneath hers, pressed her close, grounding her amidst the torrent of emotions. She clung to him, pressed against his chest, sobs quietly breaking through in short, shaky gasps.

Then, without breaking the intimate hold, his hand moved between them, tracing the curve of her body, and he gently slipped himself back inside her. The movement was slow, careful, but enough to make her gasp audibly through her tears. She gripped him tighter, her fingers digging into his shoulders and chest, her head dropping to rest against his shoulder as she tried to process the flood of sensations.

Smoke held her securely, his arms wrapped around her to keep her steady, his lips never leaving her skin. He continued whispering apologies, his voice low and ragged, but each movement, each press, was filled with need and reverence. Annie gasped into his mouth, her tears mixing with their kisses, her body trembling as he thrusted up into her, each movement strong and full of both need and apology.

Her whimpers grew softer, more needy. She was tightening around him instinctively, each motion measured to bring her pleasure without overwhelming her further. She clung to him, chest pressed against his, her face buried in the crook of his neck, letting him take control.

“I’ve got you just like this. Let me hold you,” he murmured, each word punctuated by the steady rise and fall of his thrusts. “You don’t have to move I’m taking care of you. You’re safe with me, baby.”

Annie’s body pressed closer against him, every nerve alive with sensation, every inch of contact carrying unspoken words. She was lost somewhere between tears, gasps, and whispered names, surrendering to him but still holding pieces of herself tightly. He increased the rhythm slowly, each movement punctuated with whispered apologies and soft kisses to her neck and shoulder, ensuring she knew he was here and present, and was never leaving her again.

“Annie I love you and I’m sorry. I’ve missed you,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands never leaving her, guiding her movements as much as he could.

She was shaking with emotion and desire, every nerve alive, and even through the tears and sobs, the way he moved inside her ignited her, made her gasp and cry out his name. “Oh, shit…” she choked out, her body rose and fell against his, hips moving with his thrusts in a rhythm that made them both moan.

Annie’s hands gripped his shoulders tighter, soft whimpers broke into gasps and small moans as he kept a steady, intimate rhythm, chest to chest, bodies perfectly pressed together. He held her close, rocking into her slowly, letting every motion carry the weight of his love, his apology, and his longing.

He gripped her hips tightly, pushing her down into him with every upward thrust, making sure she felt every inch of him. “You’re mine do you hear me? I’m sorry for leaving you, for everything. I need you, baby.” he growled into her ear, his voice rough and heavy with emotion. Annie shuddered against him, her moans loud now, her body completely caught between pleasure, love, and longing.

Finally, as the waves of pleasure started to crest, he slowed just slightly, maintaining the closeness, the intimacy, the connection, letting her process it all without breaking their contact. Her head rested against his chest now, still warm, still trembling, and he held her like she was the most precious thing in the world. His hands traced her back gently, soothing the tremors in her body as they both breathed the heavy, electric air between them.

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