"Grow up, Logan. This isn't about what you want or what you can handle. It's about Cade, who's upstairs thinking the whole world has seen her being tortured and raped, including people she has to face every day. She needs all of us right now, especially you."
"Why especially me?" I demanded, a flare of defensive anger rising in my chest.
"Because you're the one who's been avoiding her like she's contagious," Cole shot back. "And don't pretend it's because you've been so busy hunting Damien. We all know you're running from your own guilt."
I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but the words died in my throat. He was right. I had been running. From Cade, from my failures, from the knowledge that if I had just stayed with her that night, none of this would have happened.
"Fine," I conceded, stepping back to let Cole pass. "Go get Ryder before he kills Julia and lands himself in prison." Cole nodded, already halfway out the door.
"And Logan? Don't fuck this up. She needs you more than you know." The door closed behind him with a soft click that somehow felt more final than Ryder's violent exit. I stood alone in the foyer, the weight of Cole's words settling over me like a shroud. Cade needed me. Despite everything I had done and failed to do, she still needed me.
I made my way slowly up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. The house was eerily quiet, the usual bustle of housemenconspicuously absent. Cole must have cleared everyone out, giving Cade the privacy she desperately needed. As I approached her door, I could hear nothing from within. No crying, no movement, just a silence that felt more ominous than any sound could have been. I raised my hand to knock, then hesitated. What the fuck was I supposed to say to her? How could I possibly make this better? The image of Cade on the bathroom floor, broken by the knowledge that her most private suffering had been turned into entertainment, haunted me. Another failure to add to my growing list. Another way I had let her down.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I knocked softly. No response. I knocked again, a little louder.
"Cade?" I called through the door. "It's Logan. Can I come in?" Still no answer. Worry twisted in my gut. What if she had done something desperate? The thought propelled me forward, turning the handle without waiting for permission. The room was dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, to make out the small figure curled on the bed, facing away from the door. Relief washed over me, followed immediately by a fresh wave of guilt. She was alive, at least. But the rigid set of her shoulders, the way she had made herself so small, spoke volumes about her state of mind. I closed the door quietly behind me, uncertain whether to approach or keep my distance. In the end, I settled for perching awkwardly on the edge of the armchair near her bed, close enough to talk but not so close as to crowd her.
"Cade?" I said again, softer this time. "I... I heard what happened. I'm sorry I wasn't there." She didn't respond, didn't move, but I knew she was awake. The rhythm of her breathing was too controlled, too deliberate for sleep.
"Ryder and Cole told me about Julia," I continued, filling the silence with words that felt inadequate. "She'll pay for what she did. I promise you that." A small, choked sound escaped her, something between a sob and a laugh.
"It doesn't matter," she whispered, her voice raw from crying. "Nothing matters anymore. Everyone's seen it. Everyone knows." The defeat in her voice cut deeper than any knife. This wasn't the Cade I knew, the fierce, defiant girl who had stood up to us from the beginning. This was someone broken, hollowed out by trauma and humiliation.
"Not everyone," I said, trying to offer some small comfort. "Just a few people in that bathroom. And they won't be talking about it, not if they value their continued existence."
"You don't understand," she said, finally rolling over to face me. The sight of her nearly broke me. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, her face blotchy from crying. But it was the emptiness in her gaze that truly terrified me.
"The videos are online, Logan. Julia told me. People are watching them. I saw the view numbers. Strangers are..." She broke off, a fresh wave of tears spilling down her cheeks.
I moved without thinking, crossing the distance between us to sit on the edge of her bed.
"We know about the videos," I admitted, the words like acid in my mouth. "We've been trying to get them taken down. My father's people, the Trivium, everyone's been working on it." Her eyes widened, fresh horror dawning on her face.
"You knew? All of you? For how long?" I looked away, unable to bear the accusation in her gaze.
"About a month now. Damien started uploading them to the dark web. We've been tracking them, trying to contain the spread, but, "
"But you didn't tell me," she finished, her voice flat. "You all knew that videos of me being raped were online, and you decided I didn't need to know. You let me go out knowing that those people could have seen what had happened to me."
Put like that, our decision sounded cruel, paternalistic. But what choice did we have? She had been so fragile, so damaged. How could we have added this new horror to her burden?
"We were trying to protect you," I said, knowing how weak it sounded. "You were already dealing with so much. We thought... we hoped we could handle it before you ever had to know."
"Protect me," she repeated, the words bitter on her tongue. "Like you protected me that night? Like you protected me when you left me alone after dinner with your father? Like you protected me when you whipped me and branded me based on a lie?"
Each accusation landed like a physical blow. I had no defence, no justification. She was right. I had failed her, again and again and again.
"I'm sorry," I said, the words pathetically inadequate. "I know that doesn't change anything, doesn't fix anything, but I am so fucking sorry, Cade."
She closed her eyes, tears leaking from beneath her lashes.
"Why are you even here, Logan? You've been avoiding me for weeks. You can barely stand to be in the same room as me. So why now?" The question caught me off guard. Had my avoidance been that obvious? Of course it had. Cole and Ryder had called me out on it multiple times. But I had convinced myself that Cade was too wrapped up in her own recovery to notice my absence.
"I haven't been avoiding you," I lied, the words sounding hollow even to my own ears.
"Don't," she said, her eyes snapping open, a flash of the old Cade in her glare. "Don't lie to me. Not now. Not after everything." I ran a hand through my hair, searching for words that wouldn't make this worse.
"Fine. Yes, I've been avoiding you. But not for the reasons you think."
