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“I mean,” I continue, and I’m surprised by how steady my voice sounds, “it’s not like it even matters now.”

He doesn’t answer. He just keeps driving. His eyes are fixed on the road.

Then his hand moves, reaching across the center console toward me.

I pull away before he can touch me.

“So you’re not going to tell me?” I say.

Still nothing.

“Wow.” I laugh, but it’s bitter. “You really are an asshole.”

I say it almost to myself. Quietly. Just now realizing it.

Lucien looks at me then, and the expression on his face is so pained that for a moment, I almost take it back.

But then he turns back to the road. His hands flex on the wheel.

“Thom,” he says.

“What?” I breathe.

Lucien doesn’t repeat it. He doesn’t elaborate. He just keeps driving. His face is carefully blank. And suddenly, all the air has been sucked out of the car. Out of my lungs. Out of the entire fucking world.

Thom.

The person who taught Lucien everything. How to touch. How to kiss. How to fuck. It was the same person who tormented me. Who made me feel small and worthless.

I press my hand to my chest, trying to force air into my lungs. But it won’t come. It won’t go.

“Cam—”

“Don’t,” I choke out. “Don’t fucking talk to me.”

He goes quiet.

And I sit there in the passenger seat, drowning in the realization. Every touch. Every kiss. Every whispered word of praise. All of it learned from my tormentor. Tears trail down my cheeks, hot and silent in the darkness.

30

LUCIEN

“Two rooms,” Cameron says to the clerk, his voice like ice. “Separate rooms.”

I check in after him.

I don’t ask what room he’s in. I want to give him space.

Alone in my room, I crouch in front of the minibar and stare at the tiny bottles catching the light. Vodka, tequila, rum. I grab one, crack the cap, and drink it straight. The burn is vicious. It hits my empty stomach and makes everything worse, but I don’t stop. I drink another. Then another. Three bottles gone before I even sit on the bed.

My phone buzzes.

Gwen

Mom is hysterical. Dad is destroying things. What the hell happened?

I stare at the words for what feels like forever before I type: