Big, ugly marks across his cheek, down his jaw.
I’m out of the car before I’ve even thought it through.
“Pete!”
He freezes, like a child caught doing something wrong.
“What happened?” I demand, crossing the road. “Who did this to you?”
He looks past me, anywhere but at me. “Go home, Tom.”
“No,” I snap. “You can’t just show up looking like that and tell me nothing. Did James do this? Pete, tell me!”
He flinches at the name but doesn’t answer.
“Pete!”
Finally, he meets my eyes. And what I see there scares me more than the bruises.
Fear.
“Please,” he says, voice breaking. “Just go.”
I open my mouth to argue but he’s already turning, retreating into the house. The door shuts with a finality that makes my stomach turn.
I stand there, frozen on the doorstep, heart thundering so loud it drowns out the night.
Whatever is happening in that house, something is dangerously wrong.
Chapter 26
PETE
Pete closes the door and stands there for a moment, forehead pressed to the wood, breath coming in short, shallow bursts. The house is quiet again — too quiet — and in the silence, guilt floods in, cold and heavy.
He can almost picture Tom still on the doorstep, wide-eyed, heart cracked open.
He needed to do that, though. As this is where Tom is now — past the line. Emotionally entwined. Connected to Pete.
This is what Pete wanted from the start. He knew Tom could be an important person in his life. So much empathy, understanding, a natural instinct to protect.
But now they’re past the point where Pete can keep pretending this is all casual and easy. Tom cares too much, feels too much, and that is dangerous.
Because James is getting worse.
Tonight’s blows still ring in Pete’s head — the sharp crack of knuckles against cheekbone, one after the next, like punctuation marks. James doesn’t just shout anymore; he hits harder.
Deliberate. Controlled.
Pete touches his face and winces at the swelling that’s already blooming under his skin.
He never expected it to escalate like this. Despite everything, he always thought he had a certain degree of control over James. A feeling of understanding. Compromise.
But the dial of power has shifted rapidly in recent weeks.
So has the degree of violence.
He’s been here before. Different man, same pattern. He fought then, too — survived it. That’s what he does. But tonight, he feels the edges fraying. Feels how much closer the walls are pressing in.
