That was how Callum always won.
Because Jude’s survival instincts had long since been rewired to mistake danger for familiarity. Because Callum hadn’t needed fists to break him, even if he’d used them on occasion. All he’d really needed was years of quiet dismantling, teaching Jude how to flinch inward, how to fall still, how to turn himself into a soft place to land for the man who kept knocking the air from his lungs.
And bribery.
“You can’t stay here,” Jude said.
It wasn’t loud. But it was the bravest thing he’d said in years.
Callum stilled.
His eyes sharpened, head tilting in that dangerous way Jude remembered too well. A predator assessing prey.
“I travelled a long fucking long way to get to you.” He clutched Jude’s chin in one brutal hand. “After everything you’ve been through… I thought you’d be glad to see me.”
Jude inhaled. Deep and steady. The way he’d trained himself for when panic threatened to take hold. Every breath a battle.Every muscle taut with restraint carved into him by survival. Then, with the smallest, most deliberate motion, he turned his head and slid out of Callum’s grip. A careful twist of the jaw. Not defiant. Not aggressive.
Butenough.
“How did you find me?”
Callum cocked his head, lips tugging into that same infuriating smile of pity he’d worn all those years ago. The one he’d used the day he first offered Jude a way out of one hell, only to build another. And maybe Jude had escaped something worse, maybe not. He’d never know. That’s what Callum had always counted on. He’d looked at Jude then as if he was something to rescue and reshape. Naive. Fragile. A project. And Jude, lost and seventeen, had fallen for it.
“I canalwaysfind you.” Callum dragged his knuckles along Jude’s cheek. “You’re my little lamb. I marked you, remember? Painted your coat, clipped a tag to your ear…” He tugged on Jude’s earlobe, gentle enough to mimic affection, but sharp enough to leave heat in its wake. “And I know you weren’t running fromme.” He prodded Jude’s nose. “Despite the radio silence while I was inside. But don’t worry. I know. I understand. You were protecting yourself. From your involvement. My smart boy.”
Jude pulled another gasp of air into his lungs before he could spiral.
Callum stepped back. Not wounded.Amused. Watching him as if he were something that had once belonged to him and had been left in the care of someone careless.
Like a thing he’d come to collect.
“You look good, Curls.” He roamed his gaze down Jude’s frame. “Put on some definition, yeah? I can see it under that very low tee. Suits you.” His smile stretched, almost fond, as he brushed a curl from Jude’s forehead, rolling it between histhumb and finger. “Still got these, though.” He sighed, smoke-filled breath mingling in the small gap between them. “Missed them. All the boys liked them, didn’t they?”
Jude’s muscles locked. He didn’t move when Callum’s hand drifted lower, tugging on his blazer lapel with that same old familiarity. Like a craftsman inspecting a piece of work he’d once carved and expected never to be altered.
“That fire must’ve scared the hell out of you.” Callum dipped his chin, eyes cutting up from beneath his lashes. That stare. The one that stuttered between puppy dog and feral beast. “All those kids. That smoke. Jesus, Curls.”
With one sharp yank, he dragged Jude forward by his lapel, until their chests collided and Jude gasped as Callum slid his hand up his neck in a slow, possessive sweep.
“I’m here now, lamb,” Callum whispered into his ear. “I’ll keep you safe.”
Jude wanted to scream.
Not at the words themselves, but at the way they settled over him like a familiar coat. The weight of them. The shape. The warmth turning too quickly into suffocation.
Because this was how it always began.
With tenderness. With hands where they didn’t belong. With words dressed up like love, disguising the sharp edge beneath.
Jude held still.
He breathed him in. Sweat, smoke-laced breath, with that cloying edge of synthetic body spray trying to mask the rot beneath. It hit his gut like a memory. Violent. Familiar. He exhaled, letting the glimmer of resistance burn out enough to move without drawing fire. Then he stepped back. A quiet, calculated withdrawal. And he slipped free of Callum’s grip, straightening his spine, forcing his shoulders back to feel taller than he was. More whole than he felt.
He was shaking. He knew it.
Callum would notice. Would savour it.
Still, Jude met his gaze. “You can’t be here.”
