I know. I felt it tonight looking at those bruises.
The escalation. The ownership. The beginning of something far uglier.
My jaw clenches hard. “You should come with me.”
“And go where?”
“Anywhere,” I say, and she sighs against my chest.
“It’s not that easy,” she says.
I know it isn’t. That’s the problem.
We stay quiet for a long moment before I finally press a kiss against her forehead.
“I love you,” I whisper, and her arms tighten around me immediately.
“I love you too.”
Pain slices through my chest afterward because, suddenly, I understand something terrifyingly clear.
We’re running out of time.
This thing between us is becoming too explosive. Too impossible to hide.
And eventually, somebody’s gonna force our hand. Maybe Brayden—her father… or maybe even me.
I really am one violent night away from putting somebody in the ground permanently.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, and she lifts her head.
“For what?” she asks as my thumb brushes softly over the bruise on her cheek.
“For the fact that we need to do something soon,” I admit. “Before I end up back in jail.”
Fear flashes across her face, because she knows I mean it.
I absolutely fucking mean it.
Then, just as I start reaching for my jeans, my phone rings.
Mom…
“Holy shit. When was the last time you spoke to her? I thought she was dead,” Ophelia says, and I chuckle.
“It’s been awhile,” I tell her, because my mother never calls this early unless something’s wrong.
Ophelia
“She Will” Lil’ Wayne & Drake”
Brayden has barely spoken to me since the gala. Which honestly should feel like relief. Instead, it just feels ominous. Like the silence before a hurricane tears through everything.
He still texts and watches me at school… sometimes with those cold calculating eyes, but he hasn’t touched me again. Hasn’t cornered or threatened me. Somehow, that almost feels worse because Brayden isn’t the type to let things go. Especially not control.
I spend the entire school day searching the hallways for Hayden. Pathetic, I know, but after the bruises and the way he held me that night… he’s become distant.
I can’t stop worrying, especially after the call from his mother. He hasn’t answered a single text in three days. Not one.
