In my office, I settle into the chair and pull the stack of forms toward me. Liam's intake paperwork is in the pile. I've been putting it off. Every line, the diagnoses, the family history, the psych stays, makes it harder to keep him in the box where he belongs: just another mentee, just another file. Suicidal mother. Alcoholic father. Two inpatient admissions before eighteen.
Fuck.
I read it, file it, and move to the merit logs.
I should have finished this earlier. Would have, if I hadn't spent Quiet Time on my bed pretending to read while actually tracking every sound Liam made. Monitoring him, I told myself. Shared accountability. If he snuck out or did something stupid, it'd come back on me.
That's what I told myself.
The way he said Daddy… more than once, with that crooked smile and reckless mouth. My left eye twitches. Three mentees before him. Not one of them cost me a minute of sleep. Not one of them made me feel anything but the usual annoyance.
Why can't I stop thinking about him?
I cap my pen, straighten the stack. This needs to stop. The dinner bell sounds through the PA, and I head for the cafeteria.
The room is already filling. Gray and black uniforms shuffling through the line, trays clattering, the usual roar. I scan the crowd. Miles is at our table, hunched over his tray. Jack is talking animatedly to Harry, who half-listens, the fucker.
No Liam.
I scan again. Serving line. Doorway. Nothing.
One instruction. I gave him one instruction.
Then the annoyance shifts into something else. It's not good to be alone here, especially for a rookie, especially after Garrett. I'm out of the cafeteria before I've fully decided to move.
The dorm room is empty. Beds made. Liam's is messy, no hospital corners, reflecting exactly how he is. He's not here. I check the courtyard. Dark, empty except for a guard on the perimeter. My stomach twists.
The gym. It doesn't make sense; he should have finished thirty minutes ago. But I don't have a better idea, and I have a bad feeling. Abadfeeling.
I move fast. The corridors are dimmer after hours, half the fluorescents killed to save on the bill, pools of shadow between each buzzing tube. The main training room is dark. The mats are clean. He finished them.
Then I hear it. A muffled thud from the storage room.
I break into a run.
The door is half-open, sick yellow light leaking through. The room is crammed with junk: deflated exercise balls, a rusted weight rack against the far wall.
Garrett has Liam pinned against a stack of old crash mats, forearm across his chest. But Liam isn't folding. His lip is split, blood running a thin line down his chin, fists up, knuckles white, stance all wrong but full of fury.
"Get the fuck off me," Liam snarls, and throws a hook thatcatches Garrett square on the jaw. Garrett's head snaps sideways, and something shifts in his expression. Not pain. Not surprise.
Pleasure.
The recognition makes me sick. He moves his tongue across his lower lip, grip tightening on Liam. He shoves him harder into the mats, free hand coming up to cup Liam's jaw.
"There it is," Garrett breathes. "Knew you had some fight in you. The quiet ones never last, but you…"
"I said get off," Liam spits. Literally, blood and saliva hit Garrett's cheek.
Something in me snaps.
My right fist connects with the side of Garrett's face before they even realize I’m there. Not a wild swing. MMA-trained, weight from hip to shoulder to fist. I feel his nose give way through my knuckles. The satisfaction is so massive my rage stutters for a second, replaced by sheer pleasure.
Garrett goes sideways into the weight rack. He's on his hands and knees, blood pouring from his nose onto concrete. I grab the back of his shirt and haul him up before he can gather himself.
"Listen carefully," I say, and I barely recognize my own voice. I have his collar twisted in my fist, fabric tight against his throat. Just enough pressure to keep him conscious. His eyes are watering, unfocused. Blood everywhere. "I know about the pills. I know you've been buying from Harry's stash since September, and I know which guard's been looking the other way for you."
The color leaves his face.
