Dishearten Chapter 8

The Stalker Defends his Runaway Bride...

Dishearten is a spicy, dark-gray romance inspired by Alice in Wonderland, and Book 2 in the Frayed Satin Series, interconnected standalones giving classic ballets dark and twisty HEAs. Preorder today! Releasing June 26, 2026.

New to the series? Start with Book 1, Unveil, a dark Swan Lake retelling where the ‘villain’ steals the girl. Or jump into the first generation with Rouge, a Moulin Rouge x Romeo & Juliet remix.

PS: This is a spicy romance that explores dark themes and should only be read by 18+ mature audiences. Reader discretion is advised.

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Trigger warnings: ROUGH DRAFT + SUBJECT TO CHANGE—aka DON’T GET ATTACHED Y’ALL… harsh language, violence depicted, sexual descriptions, misogyny

Copyright © 2026 by Greer Rivers. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any form without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations for social media promotion on behalf of Greer Rivers. No part of this book may be used or uploaded to train Generative AI. AKA: Pls don’t steal or copy! It’s not nice and hurts authors’ feelings!

Dishearten Chapter 8

Hatch

I burst out of the booth in the next second and run straight into a fucking wall.

“What the hell did you do?” the wall—aka the executioner—asks, crossing his arms and trying to look as menacing as possible.

Well, “trying” is the wrong word. The executioner is fucking menacing, but unfortunately for us both, I’m in a bit of a hurry.

“Get the fuck out of my way.”

“She ran from you crying.”

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed,” I growl, trying to look around him only to catch a glimpse of blond curls disappearing into the crowd. “Now move.”

The club hasn’t slowed down at all, but there’s a break between sets, so instead of congregating around the center stage, patrons mill between tables and the bar. I shove forward to follow her, but the bouncer side steps right back into my path.

“I said move, asshole.”

“Sorry. Can’t do that. Not until you tell me why one of the sweetest girls in this club ran like a bat outta hell from her first booth dance.”

Her first.

I fucking knew it.

Whatever she saw in me, she deemed me worthy of being her first anything, and I blew it.

My jaw tics.

I have half a mind to stab this guy in the jugular just to get to her and make this right. But he’s protecting Lucy. If he’s the one that’s kept her happy and safe all this time… well, fuck, I guess I’ll have to let the bastard live. She trusts him, which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for how she feels about me right now.

Because what the fuck was that reaction?

Did she actually think I’d drug her?

She wasn’t just freaked out over the syringe—which, admittedly, was no doubt unnerving in a place like this. But there was something about the way she looked at me that stood my hair on end. She looked terrified and… gone. Like the syringe itself took her somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere I desperately need to figure the fuck out.

“Look, I don’t know what happened,” I finally say, shaking my head. “Not exactly. But if you let me through, I’ll make it right.”

A strobe flashes beneath his hood over his furrowed brow, and I can’t tell if he wants to kill me or if he just naturally looks like a coldblooded murderer. I’m guessing maybe a little column A, a little column B.

Slowly, he shakes his head. “If she ran from you, I’m not letting you near her again—”

A yelp sharp enough to cut through the bass knifes down my spine.

We both turn at once, and at the sight of Lucy in Frog’s clutches, one arm around her waist and the other digging into her ass, I’m already moving, barreling through the crowd.

“Aw, come on, Alice. Give me a little kiss.”

“No, please, just let me go. I-I-I have a set coming up.”

“Can’t do that, sweet cheeks. Not before I get what I want. That’s all ol’ Froggy needs. Just one kiss.”

I come around behind him and grab the fucker by the few wisps of hair he’s got left. He releases her on a shout of fear as I line my knife up beneath his Adam’s apple and—

“Stop!”

I blink, freezing at the soft touch on my bicep and the way Lucy just begged me.

More voices yell in the background of my foggy mind.

“Dorman, what the fuck, dude? You let him keep his knife?”

“Sorry, man. Guess he pulled one over on me.”

I blink faster as the whole scene slams into me at once.

I’ve got Frog sobbing against my knife and Lucy’s clutching my arm, pleading with me. I’m not sure which part unnerves me more. The fact that one of the murder-laced visions I’ve had since I was thirteen is very fucking real, or that Lucy’s stopping it from happening.

For him.

Why?