She doesn’t fucking get it.
I jam my phone into my pocket and drain the rest of my drink in one savage swallow.
This is why I stay away. Why I’ve been trying sogoddamn hardto stay away.
Because when it comes to Lily, nothing about me makes sense. No logic, no loyalty, no control. Just instinct and obsession and the ache that lives beneath my ribs whenever I see her.
She’s my stepsister. She’s supposed to be untouchable, off-limits to everyone and especially to me.
Even if she weren’t, even if fate hadn’t already twisted us into something wrong, I’m locked into a future with Gianna Salvatore. A marriage designed to secure alliances and silence blood feuds. A deal inked in legacy and expectation that comes with a thousand rules.
But I’ve never been good with rules, and one glimpse of Lily leaning into some stranger’s touch—a guy who doesn’t know a single thing about the way her nose crinkles when she laughs, or how she cries when someone calls her worthless—and just like that, I’m gone.
My pulse spikes, my jaw locks, my entire brain short-circuits. I become someone I don’t recognise—reckless, possessive, dangerous.
Another notification lights up my screen.
lily_davis posted a new story.
I tap it open and my worst nightmare unfolds.
A blurry video.
Pulsing music that rattles beneath my skin.
Lily, laughing into the camera—head tipped back, hair tangled across her face, lips slick with gloss, like she’s just kissed someone she shouldn’t have.
She swings the camera toward the two guys beside her, some nameless assholes with too-white smiles and shirts unbuttoned to the middle of their chests. They raise their glasses and shout something I can’t hear, voices lost in the crush of noise and flashing light. One of them slings an arm around her shoulders. Too familiar. Too easy.
Then she turns back to the camera and blows a kiss at the lens before the screen goes black.
I sit there frozen, knuckles whitening around my phone.
What in the ever-lovingfuckis she doing?
I toss some cash on the table and stand up so fast my chair scuffs loudly against the floor. I’m already calling her number as I push out into the cold London night air. She doesn’t answer, and I’m halfway down the street when another notification pings across my screen.
lily_davis posted a new photo.
I swipe it open and feel like someone has punched through my goddamn chest, my heart clenched in their fist as I take in the blurry photo. The asshole in the black T-shirt has his hand twisted in her hair, holding her close. Lily’s fingers are curled around his jaw, their mouths far too fucking close.
The world goes hazy around the edges in an instant as a tsunami of emotions brings me to a standstill, breathing hard. Acouple passing by gives me a weird look but I don’t give a shit. She has no fucking idea what she’s playing with. No idea what kind of people might be watching her account or what kind of rumours this photo will start.
And yeah, maybe that’s not the only reason my hands are trembling.
I’m dialling her number again before I even know I’ve decided to. This time, she picks up on the third ring.
“Mattttttyyy,” she slurs. “Where’d you goooo?”
“Where the fuck are you?” I snap. “Right now.”
She giggles, breathy and sweet, and for a second my frustration with her fades. “Out. Having fun. You should come.”
“Lil’, listen to me. Send me your location. Now.”
There’s a rustling noise, someone laughing in the background, she sounds muffled, like she’s covering the phone.
“Don’t be mad. He’s nice. I’m not even drunk. Well, kinda. Are you mad? Please don’t be. I’m safe, I’m fine. I’m having fun!”
