“Proof,” he says simply.“And a message.”
He pushes the items toward me and stands, adjusting his jacket and then his gaze is steady.
“Opportunities don’t announce themselves, Nate.They show up disguised as pain.The world doesn’t owe you anything—people don’t either.But sometimes, when you finally stop running, it gives you exactly what you need.”
Then he’s gone, just like that.
The phone and folder sit in front of me, humming with unspoken weight.My hands tremble as I pick them up—not from withdrawal, but from something new.
Fear.
Hope even.
The dangerous kind that asks you to believe again.
Back in my room, I open the folder and a sticky note sits on top.
“Watch videos.”
Below it, the passcode is written in Jake’s handwriting.
Our birthdates.
My chest tightens.
The phone unlocks to a single file and Jake’s face fills the screen—tired, older than eighteen should look.There are shadows under his eyes.It’s the kind of exhaustion you can’t just sleep off because it runs bone deep.
“Alright Nate,” he says softly.“If you’re watching this, I guess things went the way I thought they might, which kind of sucks.”He laughs once, bitter and small, and runs a hand through his hair.The same nervous habit he’s had since he was a kid.
“I’ve been collecting evidence.On Dad, on the organisation, on everything.You tried to tell me, and I didn’t listen.Honestly, I thought I could fix it.I thought, if I could prove what he was doing, we could all get out clean.You, me and Mom.”
The camera shakes, he’s fighting back tears.So am I.
“You were right about everything,” he says, quieter now, like the words are fragile.“And I’m sorry I made you feel crazy when all you were trying to do was save us.You were the only one who ever tried.”
My chest tightens.I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until it burns.
He lifts his gaze again, eyes steadier than they should be for someone saying goodbye.
“I had to make him believe I was on his side.Every time I agreed with him, every time I called you a fuck-up—I didn’t mean it.Not once.”His jaw flexes, tension rippling through it.“I was trying to protect you.But he’s starting to suspect me now.I can see it.”
My fingers curl around the phone, knuckles whitening.
“And if anything happens to me,” he continues, voice roughening just enough to give him away, “you need to know this.I was always on your side, Nate.Always.”
He drags in a breath that shakes, like it hurts to keep going.
“You told me once that loyalty isn’t about obedience.It’s about doing what’s right, even when it costs you everything.”His mouth twitches, something like a smile trying to survive.“You taught me that.You’ve always been my hero—even when you thought you failed me.”
My throat tightens.I swallow, hard, like I can force the words back into him.
“I was proud to be your brother,” he says, softer now.“Still am.”
His eyes shine, wet but unbroken, and that somehow makes it worse.
“I guess the elephant in the room is… if you’re watching this, it means I didn’t make it.”He exhales slowly, gathering himself.“So here’s what I need you to hear.”
He looks straight into the camera.Straight at me.I feel pinned in place.
