Chapter 34: Helpess

The drive should’ve taken fifteen minutes. I carved it down to eight.

Traffic laws bent easily when you had the money, the influence, and a legal team that treated speeding tickets like grocery lists. I parked in the loading zone directly in front of Pulse, right under a faded NO PARKING sign, and stepped out without a second glance.

The bass was already rattling the pavement, vibrating up through my shoes, drumming a pulse that matched the fury tightening in my chest.

The bouncer at the door, a slab of muscle with a shaved head and a neck thicker than his skull took one look at me. Whatever he saw made him move aside instantly. No questions. No hesitation. Just survival instinct.

Smart man.

Inside, the club was a swamp of noise and bodies. Strobe lights cut through the dark like lightning, flashing over faces twisted with drunken joy, lust, and bad decisions.

The air was thick… sweat, alcohol, cheap perfume, and the sour tang of spilled drinks mixing into something rancid.

I pushed through the dancers with a single-minded focus, and people moved aside without realizing why.

Fear worked through crowds faster than logic ever could; they felt the tension rolling off me and instinctively parted like water around a knife.

The bar stretched across the back wall like a command post… polished wood, mirrored shelves of liquor glowing under neon lights. Bottles lined up like soldiers awaiting orders.

And there he was.

Noah.

Slumped over the counter, head on his folded arms, body loose in a way that screamed exhaustion and alcohol, too much of both.

His hair was a messy tangle, his shirt half untucked, one sleeve wrinkled like he’d been tugged around. His knuckles were bloody, skin torn like he’d punched something, or someone. A bruise darkened the edge of his cheekbone.

And beside him sat a line of empty glasses. At least ten. Probably more. Enough to drown a grown man twice his size.

The bartender spotted me and went pale.

“Mr. Wolfe?”

I dismissed him with a single look.

My attention was on Noah.

I stepped up to him and laid my hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm, too warm, and his body didn’t react. Not even a flinch. I tightened my grip, shaking him just enough to pull him back from whatever pit he’d fallen into.

“Bennett.”

Nothing.

His breathing was slow, sloppy. His lashes fluttered but he didn’t lift his head.

I looked at Luke, my expression flat, sharp.

“How long has he been here?”

Luke shifted from foot to foot. “A-about two hours. Maybe more. He’s been drinking nonstop since he came in. I was gonna cut him off but—”

“But what?” My voice could’ve frozen a river.

Luke swallowed so hard I could hear it over the music. “He looked like he… needed it. I guess.”

I stared at him long enough for him to drop his gaze.

Then I leaned down, my mouth close to Noah’s ear, my voice a cold blade.

“Bennett,” I murmured, deadly soft. “Wake. Up”

Noah’s head lifted by a fraction… just enough for his eyes to meet mine. They were glassy, unfocused, pupils blown wide. He blinked at me like he was trying to remember how sight worked.

“Wha…”

His voice was a wreck. Slurred, thick, drained of everything but alcohol and exhaustion.

I straightened, jaw tight enough to crack a tooth. “You have exactly ten seconds to give me one good reason not to fire you on the spot.”

His lips twitched. A smile. Or an attempt at one. Or maybe he was just too drunk to control his face.

“Go ’head,” he mumbled. “Fire me. Everyone else… everyone else already did.”

The words hung there, bleeding. Something broken flickered across his expression… so raw it was almost hard to look at.

Then his head dropped back onto his arms as if gravity hated him personally.

I inhaled slowly, fighting the urge to shake him until he understood exactly how deep in trouble he was.

Instead, I turned to Luke.

“How much does he owe?”

Luke tapped at the register with trembling fingers. “Uh… three hundred forty.”

I pulled out my wallet and peeled off four crisp hundreds, dropping them onto the bar with a soft slap of money solving problems.

“Keep the change.”

Luke’s eyes widened. “Thank you, sir—”

I ignored him. I was already gathering Noah’s things. His phone. His wallet. His jacket, wrinkled, half-falling off the barstool like even it had given up on him.

“Thank you for watching him,” I said. No warmth. Just finality.

Then I turned to Noah and gripped his arm.

“Up.”

He made a noise that was more whine than word. “Don’ wanna…”

He tried to push me away with a weak sweep of his hand. Missed. Slid off the barstool entirely, would’ve hit the floor if I hadn’t caught him.

My patience snapped, sharp and cold.

“I said get. Up.”

For a second, just a second, Noah actually focused on me. His eyes, usually bright and sharp and annoyingly expressive, were dull and swimming.

“M’not… m’not a dog…”

“You’re acting like one.” My grip tightened. “Move.”

I dragged him upright. He swayed, dead weight, body folding like it didn’t remember how joints worked. I hooked an arm around his waist and practically carried him through the club.

And he wouldn’t shut up.

The entire walk was a trail of fragmented misery dripping out of his mouth.

“…knew I’d fuck it up…”

“…always fuck it up…”

“…father was right… m’pathetic…”

“…she chose him… ’course she chose him…”

Every word was another match dropped into the gasoline already pooling in my chest.

People stared as we passed, the lights strobing across Noah’s disheveled state, across my expression, across the unmistakable threat in my stride.

I ignored all of them.

I only cared about getting him out.

Away from this place.

Somewhere private.

Somewhere I could deal with this properly.

The cold night air hit like a slap when we stepped outside. Noah shivered instantly, pressing unconsciously into my side for warmth he didn’t deserve.

I yanked open the passenger door and shoved him inside. He slumped sideways, head lolling, mumbling something incoherent.

He was too drunk to even attempt the seatbelt, so I buckled him in myself, fast, rough, efficient and slammed the door.

I circled the car, climbed behind the wheel, and started the engine.

The drive to my suite would be short. The conversation that followed would not be gentle.

As I pulled away from the curb, I glanced once at Noah.. mouth parted, chest rising unsteadily, completely helpless.

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