I can see the battle in his eyes. He reaches out to me but then, pulls back. Shaking his head and straightening his face.
“Arwen, I’ve been trying to help you… every day, but it’s… it’s too much. I need to just step away from this for a little bit. My grades are slipping. I can’t afford… ”
I press my hands to my face, trying to steady the shaking that absolutely refuses to chill. “Brix… gods, I’m sorry,” I breathe out, the words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t— I didn’t realize I was dragging everyone down with me.”
My throat tightens, panic bubbling up again.
“But I can fix it. I will fix it. I can even tutor you—like I do for Maddox. I’ll do whatever you need, just…” I look up at him, desperate. “Just don’t push me away right now. I kind of… really need you.”
He steps back, his voice sharp but eyes sympathetic in conflict.
“No. I can’t right now, Arwen. I need a break. This is too heavy. I’ve been trying to keep you afloat and it’s… it’s pulling me under, too. I can’t keep doing this. Not anymore.”
His words slam into me so hard my lungs forget how to work. Too much. Of course. That’s me—always a problem. The universe’s favorite mistake.
“Brix… please,” I whisper, the crack in my voice giving me away before the tears do.
“Maybe…” He flinches, a flash of something—anger? regret?—in his eyes. “Maybe you should go see Ryker.”
The words drip with jealousy I didn’t expect.“Maybe he’s the only one who can help you. He’s powerful. He can do more than I can. I’m done.”
I stumble back, chest tight, eyes wide. “But why? I thought we were friends. I thought…”
His jaw tightens, the conflict in his eyes raw and human. “I thought so too. I still do. But I can’t get involved right now. Not if it destroys me, Arwen. Not if it destroys my future. You have to understand. I… I just can’t.”
I press my palms to my knees, trying to stop from collapsing. I’m losing one of my best friends. My biggest support system.
“I’m sorry Arwen,” he says softly. And with that he closes the door in my face.
Something buckles inside my chest—sharp and quick, like a string snapping where I didn’t know one was tied. I turn away. Each step feels wrong, like the ground’s turned to gravel, like I’m walking away from something I shouldn’t but can’t hold onto.
By the time I leave his floor, the few tears that managed to escape have dried in tight, salty tracks, but the hollow they carved stays wide open. My breath feels thin. My hands keep curling and uncurling, like they’re searching for something to grip that isn’t there.
The corridor stretches ahead—cold floors, washed-out lights, the kind of quiet that makes you hear your own heartbeat too loudly. And right there in the echo of it, Brixton’s words slither back in:
Maybe you should go see Ryker.
His name hits harder than I want it to. I bite my lip until it stings. Ryker—the boy who steadies me without trying, who looks at me like I’m something other than a cosmic error. I don’t want to drag him into this mess. I don’t want to be another problem he has to solve.
But I feel like I’m falling fast, breathless, grasping at air. And right now he’s the only thing my mind reaches for.
The Greed tower rises in the distance like it’s daring the sky to knock it down. The closer I get, the more the air changes.
The lift doors slide open, and I step inside, gripping the rails as it lurches upward. My pulse trips over itself. All I can think about is the last time I was here—the date, the rooftop, the way Ryker casually mentioned we were passing his room.
The higher the lift climbs, the easier it is to breathe. Not fully—just enough that my ribs don’t feel like they’re caving in. If I could just see him… even for a minute… maybe the world would stop tilting.
When did I become so dependent? I guess when the universe gifted me four bonds that hate me and no sin powers.
The hallway appears, sleek and golden and stupidly fancy. His door isn’t even five steps away. My fingers twitch at my sides, itching to knock, to do something besides stand here.
I pull in a slow breath, straighten my shirt, try to look like a human being and not a walking meltdown. My hand lifts toward the door—
Laughter spills through the crack beneath it. Loud. Easy. Too many voices. Definitely not just his.
Ryker has company.
For a second, I almost knock anyway—just shove my way into whatever party Greed boys throw on a Thursday night. But then a word slips through the door, sharp enough to cut the air.
