Shane (Damage Control 4)

I’m lying on the floor, pain lancing through my body.

What happened? Why the fuck am I on the floor? I sit up carefully. My long hair falls in my face, and I pull it back, wincing when my scalp burns. I lift my other hand, stare at the spot on my arm where I swear an open wound was bleeding a few seconds ago.

Nothing. But there’s a red, thin scar, half-lost in the tattoos covering the inside of my wrists, crisscrossing the thicker line running up my arm, along the vein.

A scar, Shane. Lost in a web of other scars. An old wound from years ago.

Okay, fine. Then why the hell am I on the floor? I was…

Oh fuck. A flashback.

Christ.

I get up slowly, my heart pounding so hard I taste bile in the back of my throat. It’s okay, I tell myself as I stumble to the bathroom and brace myself on the sink, trying to take deep breaths. I’ve been here, done this. It can’t kill me.

I survived. I’m here. I’m fine.

Fuck… I changed my appearance, let my hair grow long, pumped iron at the gym, got tattoos. But it’s made no difference.

What a goddamn joke that I survived the real thing, beat death and despair, only to live inside a nightmare without end.

Chapter Two

Cassie

Manon’s blue Kia Rio stops in front of my building, and she rolls down the window to wave at me.

“Come on in! It’s frigging cold!”

“You telling me?” I cross the sidewalk, tottering on my high heels, sliding a little on the thin layer of snow. “I’ve been waiting out here for ages.”

“We’re, like, three minutes late,” Manon mutters as I climb inside and sigh at the warmth. “And you’re dressed for summer, not January in Madison.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes, huh?” Blowing a bubble with my gum, I close the car do

or and tug down my long coat over my super-mini skirt. “Hey, Seth!” I pat him on the shoulder, and he turns to grin at me from the driver’s seat.

“How’s it going, Cass?”

“Good.” I grin back and tug on my rubber bracelet, then on my pendant, an old habit I’ve had from the time Angel came back and I couldn’t quite cope.

Stop thinking about Angel.

Seth’s taken to calling me Cass like Manon does, and I like it. I like the feeling of belonging again. I may not be one hundred percent in yet—the Inked and Damage family are tough nuts to crack after you’ve stupidly stomped all over their protective instincts—but I’m getting there.

Baby steps.

Jesse and Amber will be at Halo tonight, as will most of the guys, and Ev who knows them all said I was welcome to join in. Apparently I’ve been cleared for entry. Or at least I’ve passed the inspection for a night out in the vicinity of the glorious Inked and Damage boys and girls.

Okay, I know I sound kind of bitter. And I know it was all my own damn fault. I didn’t realize at the time—when I kissed Jesse Lee at Asher’s wedding, a little tipsy and a lot disillusioned with the world—that I was about to piss off everyone around me so royally they’d shun me for months, try and cut me out of their lives.

Manon and Ev only just recently started to believe my apologies were sincere, and as for the rest… Let’s just say I’m still working on that front.

Except that there’s one person who hasn’t shut me out. One boy.

Shane.

During these past months, he hasn’t avoided me, hasn’t turned his back. Even when everyone else pretended I didn’t exist, he played pool with me and listened to me complain about the world at large, not saying a thing.