Lily watches all of us—quiet, composed, almost detached—her resolve tempered by the year she’s spent surviving alone. “I’ll keep my head down, focus on classes, and stay off their radar,” she says, voice soft but steady.
“We need to move fast. But no one touches a single hair on Lily’s head while we do it.” I scan the room, meeting everyone’s determined gazes as murmurs of argument ripple around us. And then my eyes settle on Lily again, like a magnet pulling me home.
She doesn’t look away. Her lips press into a thin line, and for the briefest moment, I catch that flicker of vulnerability behind her calm composure, the quiet acknowledgment that she’s still holding herself back, still weighing trust and fear. And even like that, even with the walls she’s built around herself still at half mast, I feel it—the unspoken pull between us, sharper and more dangerous than any plan or threat in the room.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like we might have a chance, not just at taking down this ring, but at finally protecting the one thing that’s worth everything.
Chapter 34
Sitting in a taxi heading back to my flat, my head throbs with the weight of last night’s revelations. The truth has a way of breaking quietly, like glass under pressure, shards I can’t stop from cutting deeper every time I breathe. I press my forehead to the cool window, but it does nothing to soothe the storm raging behind my ribs. Every word, every fracture in what I thought I knew, replays on a loop I can’t silence.
Cutting our weekend short was the logical thing to do. Still, the ache of it settles heavy in my chest—only one day with Cora and Abbie, when I needed them most. One stolen breath of normalcy before everything fell apart again.
Part of me wants to disappear into the noise of the city. To vanish. To hide. To pretend none of it matters.
And then there’s the other part, the one I’ve been trying like hell to ignore for months. The one that aches for London, for the faces I left behind. For him. For Matt.
That part still believes coming back isn’t a fantasy, that maybe home isn’t a place, but a person. That where there’s a will, there’s a way.
But that part of me doesn’t factor in the betrayal, the lies, the blood that runs through both our histories. It forgets the mess of broken trust and the promises we shattered. It ignores the truth, that forgiveness and second chances don’t come easily in our world.
Can I really return without tearing down the walls I built to survive? And if I do—if I let that world touch me again—will I survive what comes next?
Because deep down, I know I can’t stay away forever. I know I’ll have to face all of it—my choices, his, the world that’s been waiting for me to stop running. And yet, even with uncertainty pressing against my ribs, I can’t help the pull I feel. Toward Matt, and to the life I’ve only allowed myself to want in fragments.
I was never naïve enough to think things were truly over—not between me and Matt, and certainly not between me and the Points. There are too many unanswered questions, too many ghosts still whispering my name. But a girl could dream.
Inside, my flat smells the same—coffee, faint cedar, a trace of the lavender candle I was burning before I left. Everything is in its place, but the stillness makes the silence roar in my ears. I shed my coat, drop my bags, and slump against the door, letting the quiet settle around me.
Classes. Playing mole. Assignments. Taking down a sex trafficking ring. My summer showcase piece. Matt’s plans runalongside mine like twin tracks I’m supposed to follow without stumbling. It feels impossible but maybe that’s the point. One wrong move, and the choice will be made for me.
And isn’t that what I’m hoping for, even if I can’t say it aloud? The disappointment in Cora and Abbie’s eyes if I admitted I can’t see London ever being home again is enough to make my head spin at the best of times.
Pushing off the door and picking up my bags, I head into my room and let the repetitive nature of unpacking distract me. Each item I put away is a small act of control, a quiet rebellion against the storm Matt’s world is dragging me into.
My phone buzzes before I even finish the first drawer.
[Abbie changed the group chat name to Unholy Trinity]
I stare at the screen, the weight of their words settling deep in my chest. Even from Lyon, I can feel them rallying—circling close, ready to fight for me no matter the cost.
My thumb hovers over Matt’s contact before I can stop myself, traitorous fingers trembling. The screen feels too bright, too exposed, like it can see straight through me—every doubt, every fear, every part of me that still aches for him despite everything.
Hours later, with my bags unpacked and coursework caught up on, I pull open my laptop and set it up for the night. The ritual is familiar: lighting, setting my tripod up and checking my camera angles, pulling up the chat on my laptop and placing it just out of shot, the careful choice of lingerie and a matchingmask, the lines I’ll walk between begging for attention and demanding control. It’s grounding, a way to keep a piece of my life mine when the rest feels like it’s being torn apart by forces I can’t touch.
I log in to Tempt, and the stream goes live, my loyal subscribers and a few new faces flooding in. The city hums outside my window, oblivious to the threats hanging over me like storm clouds. For the next hour or two, it’s just me, the screen, and this community that exists entirely in my control. The camera doesn’t judge. My subscribers don't know I spent the weekend falling back into my stepbrother's web or the threats lurking in the shadows.
Here, I can breathe. Here, I can simplybewithout worrying about the things I can’t control.
I lean toward the lens, offering a slow, sultry smirk as I twirl a strand of hair around my finger and let silence do the talking. Tonight’s outfit is a fan favourite—a black mesh set that hides nothing and instead highlights everything.
CometoDaddy:Fuck you, look good enough to eat.
MistressE:Come closer, darling.
JimsCuntDestroyer: Turn around, I want to see that fucking ass.
AdamsLadder:Such a perfect little toy for us.
