“It’s not good,” he said carefully, “because that’s not the only death Austin has been connected to.” The words hit the ground like shattered glass. Seren froze.
“What?” she whispered. Zane looked at her then, really looked at her, and something in his expression softened in a way that made my stomach sink.
“There was someone before Jax,” he said quietly. “Years ago.”
Seren shook her head immediately, violently. “No. No, you’re wrong.”
“I’m not,” Zane said. “I didn’t know the details. I didn’t know it was like this.” His jaw tightened. “But I knew there was another one.”
Seren’s face crumpled completely. “You knew,” she said, her voice breaking. “You knew and you didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t know enough,” Zane said quickly. “And I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think I deserved to know?” she snapped.
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“That’s exactly what you’re saying.” Her hands curled into fists at her sides. She looked like she was shaking from the inside out, like her body was trying to process too many realities at once.
I felt sick, because suddenly I understood something I hadn’t before. Austin hadn’t just been afraid of the law. He had been afraid of this moment. Of the people he loved finally comparing notes.
“What the fuck?” she whispered. “What the fuck is going on?”
Zane looked at me then, and I knew exactly what he was asking without him saying a word. He was asking if I knew. If Austin had told me. If this was news to me too. And the awful truth was that it wasn’t. I nodded once, barely. The movement felt heavy, like my head was underwater.
“There were some rumors, Seren,” Zane said carefully, his hands settling on her shoulders again like he was trying to keep her tethered to the ground. “There were rumors that Austin was part of a drug deal that went bad. He sold some kid pills, and…” His voice faltered. “And the kid died.” Seren stared at him. “I should have told you,” Zane continued, the words tumbling out now, rushed and regretful. “I should have told you, but Austin didn’t want me to. He begged me not to. He said it would ruin everything.”
Her face drained of color so fast it scared me. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Her hands were trembling violently now, like her body had decided to react even if her mind couldn’t.
“I’m—” Seren started. She stopped, sucking in a sharp breath that didn’t seem to go anywhere. Her eyes darted between us, unfocused, searching for something solid to hold onto.
“Seren?” Zane said quickly. “Hey—Seren? Are you okay?” He tightened his grip just in time.
“What the fuck is going to happen?” she whispered, her voice so small it barely sounded like her anymore. “Why didn’t he trust me?” The question broke something open in the air. And then she blinked. Her eyes rolled back, her body went slack, and she collapsed fully into Zane’s arms.
If Zane noticed the weight of Seren’s suddenly lifeless body, he didn’t show it. He didn’t even shift as she collapsed into him. He didn’t panic, at least, not in the way I would have if someoneI loved did that in my arms. Instead, Zane just looked down at Seren, his expression distant. Like he was here, in this horrible, confusing moment, but also somewhere else entirely, trapped inside his own mind.
“Seren,” he said gently, giving her a small shake. Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t wake.
“Is she okay?” I asked, even though I was almost certain he had forgotten I was there. He looked like Levi had the first night he met Cherry, like she was the only person in the world, like nothing else could exist beyond her. And, as if to confirm my suspicion, he didn’t lift his gaze from Seren when he answered.
“Seren,” Zane whispered again, this time brushing his knuckle softly along her cheek. She seemed to respond to the touch instinctively, as though it were oxygen, something keeping her from drowning. She finally opened her eyes. Even though it had only been seconds, maybe minutes, since she had fainted, it felt longer to me. And to Zane, I was sure it felt like hours.
“Hey,” Zane whispered softly. “Hey.” Seren looked up at him, confusion written plainly across her face, like she wasn’t entirely sure what was real yet.
“Zane,” she said his name carefully, as if she were afraid he might disappear if she said it wrong. For a brief moment, I tried to place myself inside her mind. I tried to imagine what this must feel like for her, but it was almost impossible. As panicked as I was, it couldn’t compare to what she was feeling. It never could. I would never understand the full weight of the pain moving through her body.
This wasn’t just worry. It wasn’t just fear about what might happen to Austin. It was panic and terror, tangled with betrayal, grief, and heartbreak, too many emotions for one person to carryat once. And I could have been wrong. I really could have been. But I had the distinct sense that sadness was radiating off her. A deeper sadness. One she didn’t want anyone to see. It pressed in around her like pressure, like a brutal ocean wave dragging her under. She was trying to swim through it, just like I had been trying to for months. Maybe she had learned how to stay afloat recently. Maybe she’d even learned how to surf those waves. But hearing the truth had knocked the strength right out of her, the strength she had worked so hard to reclaim. I could only hope that, unlike my own break from reality, hers would be brief. Seren couldn’t lose sight of the shore now. Not after everything.
“Does she need to go to the doctor or something?” I asked, my words echoing strangely in my ears. I had never really noticed before how words could make sound without carrying much meaning at all.
“I think she’s okay,” Zane said, shaking his head as he continued to look down at her. “She’s fine. I just need to get her some water.”
“Yeah. Yeah,” I replied distantly, my gaze drifting across the now-empty street. My thoughts felt scattered, slippery. Too familiar. They reminded me of the night Cherry was drugged, how everything had felt unreal, like I couldn’t latch onto a single detail. Or maybe I just didn’t want to. Maybe this was denial, plain and simple.
There was one thing that felt painfully different from that night, though. Back then, that version of Blair had seemed so composed. So in control. I could see now that it had all been an illusion—one I had convinced myself of, and one everyone else had believed too. Today’s Blair was different. I didn’t have anything under control, and I knew it. That awareness sat right at the front of my mind, raw and undeniable. I was fresh offhours of observation, hours of dissecting a broken version of myself under the careful, unrelenting eye of someone trained to see what I’d been hiding.
So I took a slow breath, trying to steady the frantic pulse in my chest. I forced myself to focus on what I knew. On facts. One: Austin had been arrested. Two: Whatever he’d been arrested for, it wasn’t minor. Three: We had no way of knowing what was happening right now. And the worst part was this, I had absolutely no control over any of it. The only thing I could control was my reaction. The problem was, I had no idea what an appropriate reaction to this kind of situation even looked like.
