The North Star | COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 4 ~ Bar

Chapter 4

When I'd made it halfway back to the bridge, I felt confident that he hadn't followed. I slowed my pace and allowed my lungs a blissful reprieve. I'd been so close to being caught. What was the point to any of this? I'd never win. Drake had so many, and I was only one. I had nothing. No job. No chance of getting one. No money apart from the mounds of change and single bills given by those who wanted to feel good about themselves. Certainly not what I'd need to make it far enough to have a chance.

The night darkened, and the chill returned. The warmth left over from my pumping blood slowly crept away as my heavy legs fought to keep moving. By the time the bridge broke into sight, I was shivering.

Once more, too late for a spot beside the fire. Too late to warm my bones and give myself a moment of relief. My eyes darted to Main Street, to the open bars calling my name, and I didn't care anymore.

My fate was inevitable. Karma had it out for me, and no amount of effort on my part had ever been enough to defeat her.

I shifted course, allowed my hood to fall back, and set a line towards the busy street. If they found me, I'd die with a belly full of liquor and a warm body. I'd die stuffed with those little shit peanuts they offered. If I was doomed to die, I wouldn't do it cold and hungry and lacking even one drink to send me away.

I pushed forward, through the crowds and into the first door propped open. Thick smoke drifted like fog, and the dim light inside offered a small semblance of safety. I moved to the far side, towards the emergency exit, and took a seat on a stool in the corner.

The bartender stood close enough I was easily able to get his attention, and I slapped all the money I had on the bar between us. "I want something strong and cheap. Whatever this will get me."

His eyes met mine with disinterest before he fingered his way through the change and handed me three shots of amber liquid.

I downed the first, and sucked in a breath as the fire coursed a path towards my stomach. Warmth. The other two sat like precious heirlooms in front of me, and I forced myself to take a moment to savor the first.

I stared at the shot glass for at least five minutes before I gave in and clutched it between my fingers.

I'd just tilted it to my mouth, when a man took the seat beside me. Bloodshot eyes met mine, shiny and full of interest. Stubble coated his jaw, and the red tinge to his cheeks spoke of a life of hard drinking. "This seat taken, beautiful?" His words slurred, and his breath smelled of something far stronger than I could afford.

I leaned back and took the third shot. On one hand, I could keep him there and get more drinks out of him. On the other, I'd have to deal with him to do that. He seemed too drunk to pose any real threat, and his lack of tattoos and plain old worn clothing didn't give the appearance of a man affiliated with any clubs.

Before I could decide, a large hand clasped the man's shoulder, and a voice deeper than any I'd heard before gave an answer. "She's with me."

My eyes shot up, traveling far to take in the massive mountain of a man before me. Long hair hung wild around his face and shoulders, and a full beard obstructed any chance of a good view. His eyes held the glassy evidence of someone who'd been drinking, but not of a person who'd lost focus. They cut through my unwanted visitor, sharp enough to warrant pause.

I swallowed hard as the drunk held his hands up and stumbled from the chair without complaint. "I didn't know," he said as he walked away.

The newcomer took his spot and motioned to the bartender. "Give me my usual, Paul."