Page 29 of Overdose


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Then Brynn disappeared.

And suddenly all the plans, all the rules—none of it mattered.

All that mattered was finding her. Following her footsteps. Trying to understand what led her into this world. What took her from me, and the longer I looked, the more I became her.

I dipped into the drinks. The pills. The parties. Not because I wanted to, but because it was the only way I could feel close to her. Because the grief got too heavy, and I needed something to drown it.

But even drugs never made me feel like this.

Noir and Dagger? They make me feel alive and dead all at once. Like I’m overdosing on something way more dangerous than anything I’ve ever swallowed.

A shout breaks the thought. Peering back into the hall, I can see a commotion from the men’s room, followed by a loud crash and more yelling.

I push off the wall and step into the hallway again just as people start flooding out of the bathroom, faces pale, and voices panicked. The tension’s thick—thicker than anything drugs can dull.

“Someone call an ambulance! He’s ODing!”

I edge closer, pushing through the crowd of people just in time to see a guy on the floor. Golden curls. Sun kissed skin, with a black fishnet muscle shirt. Foaming at the mouth, convulsing on the bathroom floor like a glitching NPC in a broken video game.

“Shay,” someone behind me gasps. “Isn’t that… Jeremiah?!”

Holy. Shit.

The party implodes in real time. Screams, gasps, the kind of chaos that smells like fear and cheap liquor. Someone drops their drink. Someone else grabs their phone. Me? I just… freeze.

Shay grabs her friend’s wrist. “Let’s dip.Now.I’m not catching a case ‘cause that dumbass couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

And just like that, they’re gone. Poof. Glitter and guilt in their wake.

I stare at the body one more beat too long before my feet finally move.

Nope. I’m not sticking around to play twenty questions with a bunch of badge-wearing buzzkills.

I walk. Fast. Boots echoing like a countdown.

This night? It’s been a full-blown overdose of drama, drugs, dick-measuring contests.

And I’m honestly not sure what I’m more scared of?—

The drugs I used to chase.

Or the boys who feel more dangerous than any high I’ve ever had.

Six

Dagger

She’s stillin my fucking head.

Not just her mouth or that tight little moan when I kissed her. Not just the way she looked up at me like maybe—just maybe—she didn’t hate the idea of letting me wreck her. It’s everything. Her voice. Her fire. Her scent still clinging to my jacket like perfume soaked in sin. That whole moment on the beach is burned into me. She leaned into me like the world was crumbling and I was the only steady thing left. She didn’t say it, but I felt it. The desperation beneath the sarcasm. The kind of need that seeps into bone.

And now she’s gone.

I’m still standing in the sand, jacket in one hand and the taste of her on my tongue, when I hear it—the slam of boots over gravel and the ragged breath of someone hauling ass down the bluff. Link comes tearing toward me, high as fuck and panicking, his hoodie half off one shoulder and a fresh sweat stain spreading down his back.

“D! Yo—Dagger!” He skids to a stop, breathing hard. “Shit’s going down, man. Cops are pulling in—two cruisers, maybe more. Word is some kid OD’d in the bathroom. It ain’t good man. They said he’s not breathing. Dead.”

My jaw tightens. “What’d he take?”