Marge watched me carefully as I approached her desk, the ever-present cigarette dangling from her fingers. She didn't say anything as I sat down across from her, but I could feel the weight of her scrutiny.
I didn't waste time with pleasantries. "It's moving. Farrah's talking to people. Vigo's on board, for now."
Marge exhaled a long plume of smoke, her expression unreadable. "For now," she echoed, as though testing the weight of the words. "You're building something dangerous, Lux. People like Vigo don't stay bought for long unless you keep the rewards coming."
I nodded, already aware of the fact. "I'll keep him on a tight leash."
"Just make sure you don't let him slip," Marge warned, her eyes narrowing. "You're walking a tightrope with all this, and if even one of those pieces falls out of place, it'll take everything down with it. Including you."
There was no accusation in her tone, but I knew what she was implying.
"I know," I said quietly. "That's why I came to you. I need to know if you've heard anything from your side. Any movement from Aspen?"
Marge took another drag from her cigarette, considering my question. Finally, she nodded. "She's nervous. People are talking. I've stayed out of this for a reason, but if you start a war you can't win, I won't be able to help you."
She didn't say anything as I left, but I could feel her eyes on my back, burning a hole through me as I stepped out into the damp corridors of the Vault.
The moment the cool air of the corridor hit my face, it was like all the tension I'd been holding in spilled out. My hands shook, my thoughts racing. Marge was right—I was building something dangerous, and it was only a matter of time before it either paid off or blew up in my face. And Oliver… God, I didn't even want to think about how he'd react if he found out.
I reached into my pocket and felt the familiar shape of the small pill bag, my fingers closing around it instinctively. The Percocet. I could feel the anxiety creeping up my spine, coiling tight in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Just one.
No. I gritted my teeth, trying to fight off the urge. But it was like trying to stop an avalanche with a single hand. I needed something to calm the storm raging inside me. Something to keep me steady while everything around me felt like it was falling apart.
With a sharp breath, I fumbled with the bag, dropping a few pills into my hand. I chewed them quickly, the bitter taste flooding my mouth as I dry-swallowed them, not even waiting for the relief to hit. The tension didn't disappear, but at least it dulled, numbed at the edges.
It wasn't enough.
I could feel some Nebula tablets in the other pocket, burning a hole against my skin like they were calling out to me. One of those would really calm me down. Just one. And everything would slow down, the edges would soften, and I wouldn't feel this pressure squeezing in my chest anymore.
But I couldn't. Not again.
Not after all the work I'd put into pulling myself out of that hole. I couldn't let myself fall back in—not now, when everything was on the line. Not when I was so close to proving to Oliver—and to myself—that I wasn't just some addict. That I was more than that.
I swallowed hard, forcing the temptation back down. You're not that person anymore, I reminded myself. But it didn't stop the itch in my skin, the need crawling beneath the surface like a slow burn. This wasn't just about me anymore. I needed to prove to Oliver that I could handle things without fucking it up with drugs—that I could stand on my own two feet and be someone he could actually rely on. The thought of letting him down twisted in my gut, fueling my determination to push through the ache and stay in control.
I forced my feet to keep moving, the dim lights of the Vault flickering overhead as I made my way to Oliver's quarters. I needed to see him, if only to reassure myself that I wasn't drawing suspicion. The last thing I needed was Oliver getting wind of what I was doing behind his back. He was already under so much pressure, and Aspen was sinking herself deeper into his operation every day. If I didn't keep things steady on the surface, this whole plan would unravel before it even had a chance to start.
By the time I reached his door, the Percocet had kicked in, dulling the sharp edges of my anxiety just enough for me to think straight. I knocked lightly, waiting for the familiar sound of his voice from the other side.
"Come in."
I pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit office. Oliver was at his desk, papers spread out in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration. The usual tension in his posture was even more pronounced tonight, like he was carrying the weight of the Vault on his shoulders—and maybe he was.
He glanced up when he saw me, a brief light of something softer passing over his features before his usual guarded expression settled back into place. "Lux."
I offered him a small smile, trying to push down the lingering unease in my chest. "Hey. Just wanted to check in."
Oliver leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning my face as if he could read every secret I was trying to hide. For a moment, I wondered if he knew. If somehow, despite everything, he could see the guilt and the plans and the deals I'd been making in the shadows.
"Everything alright?" he asked, his voice low and rough.
I nodded, stepping further into the room. "Yeah. Just wanted to see how you were holding up."
He didn't respond immediately, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before he looked away, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "It's been… a long day. Something's off."
I froze for a split second, my heart racing. Did he know? Was he on to me? I quickly shook off the panic, keeping my expression neutral. "Yeah, I've been hearing things too."
Oliver's eyes darted back to mine, sharp and probing. "And what have you heard?"
I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady. "Not much. Just… things Farrah's mentioned. People are getting restless. Aspen's tightening her grip. It's only a matter of time before something gives." I kept my tone casual, as if the information had come to me in passing and not because I'd been prying for details myself.
He nodded slowly, his gaze hardening. "Yeah. I can feel it too. She's playing a dangerous game. And if I don't figure out what her endgame is soon…"
He trailed off, his voice thick with frustration. I could see it—he was being pulled in a dozen different directions, and Aspen was at the center of all of it, quietly weaving her web around him.
For a moment, I considered telling him. Laying it all out—what I was doing, the deals I was making behind the scenes to bring Aspen down before she destroyed everything he'd built.
But I couldn't. Not yet.
"I'm here, Oliver," I said quietly, stepping closer. "Whatever happens, I've got your back."
He looked at me then, really looked at me, and for a brief moment, I saw the exhaustion in his eyes. The weight of everything he was carrying. The Vault, the betrayal, the constant threat from Aspen. It was crushing him, piece by piece, and I was part of the storm he didn't even know was swirling around him.
But there was something else in his gaze, something that softened the hard lines of his face. He trusted me—at least for now. And that trust, that fragile, dangerous trust, was the only thing keeping me tethered to this plan. If he knew
the truth, if he saw the full scope of the moves I was making behind his back… I didn't want to think about how quickly that trust would shatter.
"Thank you," he said, his voice low, almost too quiet. There was a vulnerability in his tone I wasn't used to, a crack in the armor that Oliver rarely let anyone see.
Guilt twisted in my chest like a knife. I forced a smile, stepping even closer until I could feel the warmth radiating off his body.
For a moment, I just stood there, the silence between us thick with unspoken tension. I could feel the pull, the magnetic force that always seemed to draw us together, no matter how much chaos surrounded us. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, like we were the only two people in the entire Vault.
I bit down on the inside of my cheek, trying to ground myself, to keep the swirl of emotions in check. But it was hard. So damn hard when he was right in front of me, looking at me like that, like I was the only thing holding him together.
"Lux…" His voice was a rough whisper now, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. The way he was struggling, not just with the weight of the Vault but with everything between us. It was like he wanted to say something, do something, but he was holding back—maybe for the same reasons I was.
Before I could stop myself, I reached out, my fingers brushing against his shoulder. Oliver's gaze snapped to mine, and in that moment, all the walls he'd been holding up seemed to crumble.
Without thinking, he stood up and reached for me, his hand wrapping around my waist and pulling me closer. The space between us disappeared, and I could feel his breath against my skin, the tension between us almost unbearable now.
For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. I could feel the heat between us, the way his grip tightened ever so slightly, like he was on the edge of something he couldn't take back.
But he didn't.
Instead, he let out a ragged breath, his forehead resting against mine as he closed his eyes. "I don't know how much longer I can do this."
His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and for the first time in a long time, I saw the faults in Oliver. The man who always seemed so strong, so in control, was breaking under the pressure. And here I was, standing in front of him, pretending I wasn't part of the problem.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine, something unspoken passing between us. But he didn't push. Instead, he let me go, stepping back and running a hand through his hair, the tension between us simmering just beneath the surface.
"You should get some rest," he muttered, turning back to the stack of papers on his desk. "I've got some things I need to finish up."
I hesitated for a moment, wanting to say more, to do more. But I knew better. Oliver wasn't the kind of man you pushed, especially not when he was like this—tangled up in his own thoughts and burdens.
"Goodnight, Oliver," I said softly, lingering for just a moment longer before turning to leave.
As my hand reached for the door handle, his voice stopped me, quieter this time, like the words had been tugging at him for a while.
"Lux."
I turned back, the weight of his gaze still heavy, pulling me in even when I knew I should leave. His shoulders sagged a little, the exhaustion showing in ways he rarely let slip. He wasn't just tired. He was worn, frayed at the edges, like he'd been holding everything together for too long.
"Why don't you head back to my place?" he said, his voice low, measured. "There's a meal in the fridge. It's already prepared. Just needs warming up."
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. His words felt intimate, like he was letting me into a part of his world he didn't share with anyone else. Like an olive branch, a sliver of normalcy in the chaos we were both trapped in.
"Will you be joining me?" I asked softly, my pulse quickening at the thought of having him close, even if just for a moment away from the weight of the Vault.
He didn't answer right away. His eyes roamed back to the pile of papers on his desk, his jaw tightening. "I don't know," he finally admitted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "There's a lot I need to take care of. Don't wait up for me."
There was a part of me that wanted to push, to insist he take a break, that we could figure it all out together if we just slowed down long enough to breathe. But I knew better.
"Okay," I said, my voice soft, though there was a knot forming in my chest that I couldn't quite shake.
His eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, like he was weighing something unspoken between us. Then he turned back to his desk, the tension in his posture tightening again as he picked up a pen and scribbled something on the paper in front of him.
I wanted to say something more, to reach out and bridge the space between us. But I didn't. Instead, I quietly left the room, the door clicking shut behind me, the sound echoing in the silence.
As I walked through the Vault's winding corridors toward his apartment, my thoughts were a tangled mess. The Percocet were still doing their job, dulling the sharp edges of everything, but they couldn't drown out the growing sense of dread gnawing at the pit of my stomach.
I had the feeling that things between Oliver and me were changing, shifting in ways I couldn't fully grasp yet. Maybe it was the weight of everything happening around us—the pressure from Aspen, the fragility of the Vault, the deals I was making in the shadows. But there was something more. Something heavier than just the game we were both playing.
Something personal.
The walk to Oliver's apartment was short, but it felt like miles. When I finally stepped inside, the comfortably warm air hit me. The place was quiet, almost too quiet. I could feel his presence here, even in his absence—the lingering scent of him, the neatness of his space. It was so different from the chaos of the Vault.
I wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge and finding the neatly packaged meal he'd mentioned. Some kind of pasta, already prepared, just like he said. It looked simple but comforting, like he'd thought of it ahead of time, knowing I might need something familiar. Something normal.
But as I pulled the dish out and set it on the counter, the knot in my chest tightened.
Would he actually come? Or was this just another way to keep me close without letting me in?
I turned on the oven, sliding the dish inside to warm up. Then I leaned against the counter, staring at the dim lights in his apartment, my mind racing. I had so many questions—about him, about us, about everything I was doing behind his back. How would he react if he knew? If he found out what I was really up to? Would he understand? Would he hate me? Would he see it as betrayal?
I shook the thought away, running a hand over my face. I couldn't afford to spiral right now. I couldn't afford to think too much about the what-ifs.
I needed to focus.
I popped another Percocet into my mouth, dry-swallowing it without hesitation. The bitterness coated my tongue, but the dulling effect that followed was worth it. The urge to take a Nebula tablet tugged at the edges of my mind.
The oven beeped, pulling me out of my thoughts. I opened the door, pulling out the warm dish, the heat radiating into the room like a temporary comfort. But even as I prepared to sit down and eat, there was an emptiness in the space.
I was waiting.
Waiting for him. Waiting for something. Waiting for this whole damn thing to explode.
I sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the meal in front of me. The food sat untouched, the steam rising in soft curls, but I couldn't bring myself to eat. My mind was racing, spinning through every deal I'd made, every risk I was taking.
But as I sat there, still staring at the untouched food, the familiar craving started to creep in. The Nebula tablets.
The way they could numb everything; the way they could make the pressure disappear for a little while. It'd be so easy to take just one. Just enough to make everything fade.
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe, to let the pull of the Nebula fade. I could beat this. I had to. For Oliver. For the Vault. For everything I was trying to build.
After a while, the craving passed, leaving only a dull ache behind. I let out a slow breath and pulled my phone out of my bag, scrolling through the contacts until I found Farrah's name. I hit call, pressing the phone to my ear as the line rang.
She picked up on the second ring. "Lux? What's up?"
I could hear the faint sounds of the Vault in the background—people talking, deals being made. She was still out there, moving through the shadows, just like I needed her to. "How's everything going?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Farrah let out a breath. "Couple hiccups, but nothing major. Aspen's been prowling more than usual, though. She's on edge. Might be getting some blow-back from all the shit we've been stirring up. But don't worry, I've got it under control."
Her words brought me a small sense of relief, but the weight of everything still hung heavy on my shoulders. "You sure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure," she said, her voice softening. "We're good. Trust me."
"Okay," I murmured, the tension in my chest loosening just a little. "Thanks, Farrah."
"No problem," she said, a hint of excitement in her voice. "Now, don't stress yourself to death. You sound like you're about to crack."
I let out a weak chuckle, but it was more for her benefit than mine. "Yeah. I'll try."
After I hung up, the silence came crashing back in. The momentary relief Farrah had given me faded as quickly as it came. The overwhelming weight of everything hit me all at once.
Before I could stop it, the tears came.
I didn't even know where they came from. One second, I was sitting there, staring at the phone, and the next, I was sobbing, my body shaking with the force of it. I pressed my hands to my face, trying to hold it together, but I couldn't stop. The tears kept coming, harder and harder.
It was everything. The pressure, the fear, the constant struggle to survive. My life on the streets, the life I'd barely escaped. The Vault, with its shifting alliances and constant danger. The fear that one wrong move would destroy everything. I just wanted out. Out of the entrapment that seemed to define every corner of my life—whether it was the streets, the Vault, or even the choices I'd made to get this far. I wanted freedom, something I wasn't even sure I'd recognize if I found it.
And then there was Oliver. God, Oliver. The way I felt about him, the way I wanted him, to save him from the mess Aspen was making. But I was lying to him.
Farrah, Marge. They were starting to feel like a family, a real family—something I'd never had before. But I knew that trust was fragile. Farrah could bail. Marge could wash her hands of this if things went sideways. It could all crumble.
And I'd be left with nothing.
The sobs tore through me, raw and uncontrollable. I felt like I was drowning, like the weight of everything was pulling me under. My entire body trembled, the pressure too much to handle.
The tears had finally stopped, but the weight in my chest hadn't lifted. It was like I was hollowed out—emptied of everything but the pressure and fear I couldn't shake. My hands were still trembling, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. I wiped my face, but the ache wasn't going away. I'd fought it for so long, tried to keep it together, tried to push through, but I couldn't outrun it anymore.
The Percocet had dulled the edge, but they hadn't been enough. Not this time.
I stared down at my bag, knowing exactly what was inside. Nebula. The tiny, powerful relief that I'd been holding onto, saving for leverage in this deadly game I was playing. I'd sworn to myself I wouldn't touch them, that I wasn't an addict. That I could handle this. But right now, I couldn't handle anything.
My hand moved on its own, reaching into the bag and pulling out the small plastic pouch that held the tablets. I stared at it, the faint glow of the pills catching the dim light from the overhead bulbs. It felt like I was looking at something forbidden, something that had the power to destroy me, but at the same time, it was a lifeline. The only thing that could make the crushing weight inside me disappear, even if just for a little while.
I'd been fighting this war with myself for years. I was tired of surviving. I was tired of the pain, the constant fear that everything was about to fall apart.
I couldn't stand how I was feeling. I needed relief.
I knew I shouldn't do it. I knew this was the moment I'd been dreading, the moment when I either proved to myself that I could stay in control or gave in to the temptation I'd been fighting for so long. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, and all I had to do was take a step forward to fall. And I did.
Before I could stop myself, I opened the pouch, my hands shaking as I pulled out one of the tablets. It was small, deceptively harmless looking, but I knew better. I knew what it could do. What it would do. I popped the pill into my mouth, letting it melt slowly, coating my tongue. For a second, I felt a hint of guilt. I'd lost the fight. I'd given in.
But the relief… God, the relief was almost immediate. It started slow, a soft numbness spreading through my chest, loosening the tightness that had been gripping my lungs. My head felt lighter, the weight lifting from my shoulders as the familiar haze of Nebula washed over me.
The tension, the fear, the crushing sense of failure—it all started to fade. I could finally breathe again. I didn't have to think about the pressure of everything I was carrying. I didn't have to think about the Vault, or Aspen, or Oliver.
I didn't have to feel anything at all.
I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes as the world softened around me. The ache was still there, somewhere deep inside, but it didn't feel unbearable anymore. It didn't feel like it was going to swallow me whole.
For the first time in what felt like hours, maybe even days, I felt… okay.
I could handle this. I could handle the Vault, and Aspen, and all the deals I was making in the dark. I could handle Oliver and the lies I was keeping from him. I could handle the weight of everything.
But only like this. Only with the Nebula.
And that thought scared me, even through the haze. Because if I needed this to keep going, if this was what it took to survive… then maybe I wasn't as strong as I thought I was. Maybe I wasn't in control of anything.
But right now, I didn't care.
Right now, I just needed the numbness.