That thought, that single thought, hurts more than the memory of the monster who tried to break me.
Because if I lose Alex… I'm not sure if I’ll survive it.
My heart aches. And it’s not just fear, it’s grief.
Grief for a future that could slip away.
THIRTY-THREE
ALEXANDER
The elevator doors slide open, and the penthouse greets me with silence.
No music. No clatter from the kitchen. Just stillness.
I wander toward the balcony, instinctively. It’s empty. But the birthday decorations Lucas put up are still there—streamers caught in the breeze, soft fairy lights still glowing against the night. There’s a sweetness to it. A quiet, careful kind of love that makes my chest ache.
I head back inside, tugging off my suit jacket as I climb the stairs. Lucas had texted that they’d be in the cinema after dinner. I push open the cinema door and the soft glow of the screen washes over the room in a cool, pale blue.
They’re on the massive floor cushion, tucked close. Lucas is curled up under a gray throw blanket, his body a small crescent pressed into Tyler’s side. His cheek rests on Tyler’s shoulder, breath even, eyes shut. He looks peaceful… but there’s a tension in the way his fingers are clenched into the edge of the blanket. Like, even in sleep, he’s bracing for something.
Tyler’s the only one awake. He’s got a half-empty popcorn box on his lap, eyes fixed on the screen, a quiet smile on his lips. It’s soft—makes him look softer, gentler. So different from thesharp, cold expression he gave me the first time we met. The one he wore when he told me he’d gut me if I hurt Lucas.
Then he sees me.
His eyes widen.
“Oh shit—you’re back,” he whispers, still chewing.
I give him a nod and step in, letting the door ease shut behind me.
“Thanks… for the gifts,” he says after a moment, awkward but sincere. “You really didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
He glances at me, chewing the inside of his cheek like he wants to say more.
“Your assistant called earlier,” he adds, almost casually. “I told her I don’t want anything else.”
I raise a brow.
“Can you sit for a sec?” He asks, his voice a little nervous, like he’s unsure how this will go.
I lower myself to the edge of the floor cushion, close to Lucas. He stirs slightly, his body shifting toward the warmth between us, but he doesn’t wake. Still, there’s a faint crease between his brows, something troubled pressing in behind closed lids.
Tyler shifts closer, brushing his fingers through Lucas’s curls in a motion that’s far too practiced. There’s a tenderness in it, one that tells me he’s done this a thousand times—held Lucas through sleepless nights, quieted his shaking, grounded him when the world got too loud.
I should feel something sharp in my chest at the sight. Jealousy. Possessiveness. Something.
But I don’t.
Maybe because Lucas already told me more than once not to get jealous of Tyler. That whatever they share is something sacred and safe, not romantic. Maybe because I’ve seen the wayLucas looks at him—like family. Like oxygen. And I’ve also seen the way he looks at me.
Lucas and Tyler almost look alike in appearance, but while Lucas is the softer one, quiet, cautious, all big eyes and smaller movements. Tyler, though, carries a sharper edge beneath himself, a kind of confident sweetness, like someone who’s had to survive by being both gentle and fierce, a version of Lucas that decided to fight the world by being louder, pettier, and more feminine.
Tyler breaks the silence first.
“Actually… the only birthday gift I really want is for you to take care of him.”
