Callum frowned, genuinely puzzled. “Why not?”
“I have a life now.”
“Iknow, Curls,” Callum said warmly. “I’m proud of you.” He swept a hand in an arc around the room, taking in the shelves Jude built, the small fireplace, the carefully chosen furniture. “Look at all this. It’s perfect.”
But Jude knew what he meant. He wasn’t admiring the life Jude had fought tooth and nail to build. He wasn’t seeing survival, or growth, or the miracle of healing.
He sawopportunity.
A job. A clean name. A reputation Jude couldn’t afford to lose. Things Callum could now leverage. Twist. Infiltrate.
He wasn’t proud.
He waspositioning himself.
Jude’s voice cracked as he spoke again, brittle at the edges. “Please…pleasedon’t ruin this.”
Begging tasted foul in his mouth.
But sometimes it was the only thing that bought space.
Callum blinked, feigning hurt. He splayed a hand on his chest, allowing Jude to see the inked knuckles. “Ruin it? Christ, Curls, I came tosupportyou. I’m a changed man. Just like you.”
He smiled. That soft, persuasive smile Jude had once fallen for. The one that meant absolutely nothing.
“I did my time.” Callum scratched through his dark buzz cut. “I owned my mistakes. I pleaded guilty.”
And he had. Technically.
To the lesser charges. The watered-down version of events never coming close to capturing the full weight of what he’d done. What hewas. The police hadn’t pushed for the rest. It had been too complex. Too dependent on the cooperation of a boy who, at the time, had been too exhausted to fight. And back then,Jude hadn’t cared about justice. He hadn’t wanted courtrooms or testimonies or headlines. He hadn’t wanted to step forward and admit his failings as a person. A man. He hadn’t wanted any of those photos and videos proving who he’d been to see the light.
He’d wanted Callumgone.
Out of his house. His body. Hishead.
Speed had mattered more than longevity. Silence more than exposure. And he’d thought then if he kept the worst of it to himself, he could bury it along with Callum’s sentence. He’d wanted him locked away as quickly as possible so Jude could get on with his life without him.
But that had bought him this.
A knock at his door years later.
Now Jude was paying the price for the deal he’d made with fear.
“The parole board wouldn’t have let me out if I wasn’t rehabilitated, yeah?” Callum unhooked Jude’s glasses from his nose, wiped the lenses for him on his hoodie, then slipped them back up for him. “It’s all good, lamb.”
Jude didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.
They both knew how good Callum was at convincing people. Even trained ones. Even those whoshouldhave known better.
Even Jude.
“Look, I know you have this respectable image now.” Callum tilted his neck. “Mr Ellison.” He stepped closer, and Jude flinched before he could stop himself. Callum reached out anyway, crooking a finger beneath Jude’s chin, tilting his face up. “So proud of you. All those kids. Your little classroom. You’ve built something here.” Then his voice dipped, low and honey-thick. “Why would I want to ruin that?”
Jude didn’t breathe.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Callum’s tone softened, mock-offended, but the gleam in his eyes said otherwise. “Wouldn’t utter a word about…” He gave a low chuckle, tilting his head. “Well. You know.Back then. What you used to do. Who you used to be.” He grazed his thumb along Jude’s lower lip. “That’s not you anymore. Is it?”
Jude’s chest clenched.
