Something sharp cuts through the haze. Shame, defiance, survival—whatever it is, it burns hotter than the pull.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I snap.
“Like what?”
“Like—” I bite the word off, because I don’t even know what I mean.
He tilts his head slightly. “You’re shaking.”
“No shit.” I glare at him, humiliated, but he’s right. I’m still in myunclaspedbra like an idiot.
“Turn around,” I snap.
He doesn’t.
“Turn around!”
Finally, with a faint sigh, he does, though I can tell he’s still watching me in the reflection of the window. I yank the blouse off the chair and shove my arms through the sleeves, buttoning it as fast as my shaking fingers allow.
When I glance up, he’s already facing me again. “What do you want from me?”
He doesn’t answer my question right away. The quiet between us stretches until I feel it like pressure in my chest.
Finally, he says, “Do you know where your brother is?”
I blink, the question cutting through the tension like a blade. “No.”
“Think carefully before you answer.”
“I said no.” I cross my arms, trying to sound steady. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
His expression doesn’t change, but something in the air does. Slowly, he steps closer, each step making the room feel smaller. My back brushes the edge of the counter.
“I told you to get out,” I say, my voice quieter now, because my throat is too tight for more.
He stops in front of me. I have to tilt my head to look at him. The light catches on the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scar near his temple, the watch that probably costs more than my rent.
His hand moves. I flinch, expecting a hit, but his fingers only brush a strand of hair out of my face. The touch is featherlight, impersonal. His palm lingers near my cheek just long enough for me to feel the warmth of it before he drops his hand again.
“You don’t lie well,” he says simply.
I swallow hard. “I’m not lying.”
“I’ve been looking for him for days. All information points here.” His voice doesn’t rise; it doesn’t need to. “He lived with you.”
“Lived.Past tense.” I push past him, grab my bag from the table, anything to put space between us. “Lucas hasn’t been here in over a week. I have no idea where he is.”
“Convenient.”
“It’s the truth,” I snap, spinning to face him. “Whatever this is, it has nothing to do with me. You’ve said what you needed to say, so you can leave now.”
He stands perfectly still, eyes fixed on me like he’s watching something unravel.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says quietly.
My heart stutters. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means your brother’s debts are now your problem.”
