“What the hell is—” I started, but she’d already pulled the pin.
A white cloud exploded across the room with a roar, coating everything—bed, trophies, me—in a choking frost. Emma shrieked, staggering backward as foam hit her full in the face.
“Get out of my house!” Riley screamed, spraying again for good measure.
Emma screamed louder this time, stumbling for the door, arms flailing, her pale figure disappearing into the hallway in a haze of cold mist.
Silence fell, thehissof the extinguisher dying out.
Riley stood there panting, extinguisher still hissing in her grip, white residue clinging to her hair and lashes.
For a moment, none of us moved.
Then Jace took one slow, reverent step forward. “My hero,” he breathed with wide eyes, his voice dripping with awe. “Fuck, that makes me so hot.”
Before Riley could even blink, he scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder, her shocked yelp muffled against his back.
“You’re going to have to clean up on your own,” he said as he strode out of the room. “I gotta give this little legend what she deserves.”
“Thank you!” I called after them, still coughing through the lingering haze.
I heard his bedroom door shut with a dramaticthud, Riley’s muffled giggles echoing through the walls.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the foam-covered room, my pulse still sprinting.
I had no idea what the hell had just happened, but I did know one thing…Ophelia had never come over last night.
Before I could do anything about that…my phone rang.
I grabbed it without thinking. “Yeah?”
“Matthew,” my mom’s voice came through, tight and trembling. “It’s your dad. He’s in the hospital. You need to come—now.”
The room tilted, the cold chemical air suddenly too thin to breathe.
I froze, dread washing through me in a slow, suffocating wave. “I’ll be right there,” I said quietly.
CHAPTER 29
MATTY
Istepped into the hospital room, the steady beep of machines cutting through the stillness. My mom was by the bed, her head bowed, one hand gripping my dad’s like she was afraid he’d slip away if she let go.
One look at him, and my stomach turned. His face was a ruin—swollen and mottled with deep purple bruises, one eye completely shut, a gash splitting his cheekbone. Dried blood clung to his hairline, and there were angry marks along his jaw and neck, fingerprints dark against his skin. His lip was split, his knuckles scraped raw, and even under the thin hospital blanket, I could see the stiffness in the way his ribs rose and fell.
It wasn’t an accident.
Someone had done this to him.
My chest tightened. “What happened?” I asked, the words scraping out of my throat.
My mom jerked up like she’d been struck. Then she was in my arms, clutching at my hoodie, sobbing so hard it felt like the sound was tearing through both of us. “Oh, thank God you’re here,” she cried, voice muffled against my chest. “I didn’t know if you’d make it in time. I didn’t know what to do.”
I kept my arms around her, comforting her as best I could, even while my eyes stayed fixed on my dad…on the bruises, the blood, the stillness that didn’t fit him.
“Hey,” I murmured finally, guiding her back toward the chair. “Sit down, okay? You need to breathe.”
She sank into the seat, trembling, and I grabbed the half-empty cup of water from the tray, pressing it gently into her hands. “Drink,” I said quietly. “Please.”
