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My nails dig into my palms.

He’s fine. Completely fucking fine.

Liam is there. Liam, who was there when I wasn’t. Liam, who probably told him he’s better off without me, that I’m toxic, that he deserves someone who won’t manipulate him, lie to him, break him into pieces. It’s all true.

Liam, who’s sitting across from him right now, is his sole source of comfort.

The server returns with their drinks. Beers, from the look of it. They clink glasses. Cameron takes a long drink, and when he sets it down, he’s still smiling.

I should turn around and walk back to the frat house, let him have this. Let him move on. Let him be happy without me dragging him down into the darkness I carry everywhere I go.

Instead, I stand there, watching them through the window like a fucking ghost. Like I’m already dead and this is my haunting, condemned to watch Cameron live his life without me, to see him smile and be okay while I’m stuck.

A memory rises, intrusive and visceral.

In the late afternoon, most of the boys are at practice or in their rooms, so the library at St. Silas was nearly empty. I was supposed to be studying, but I couldn’t focus. Cameron, still new to the school, was three rows over, bent over a textbook, his brow furrowed in concentration. The light from the window caught his hair, turning it gold.

I’d been watching him for ten minutes when Thom appeared.

He slid into the chair next to me, too close, his thigh pressing against mine under the table.

“Ye’ve been starin’ at him for a while now,” Thom said, his Scottish accent thick and lazy. He nodded toward Cameron. “Thinkin’ about that tight arse, are ye?”

The words were vulgar, meant to provoke.

I turned to look at Thom, and the rage must have shown on my face because his expression gave way to something harder.

“Careful, Lucien,” he breathed.

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

Thom’s smile was dangerous. “Like what? I’d fuck him if I got the chance. Bet he’d be a screamer.”

I stood up so fast that my chair fell to the floor. The sound echoed through the quiet library. Cameron looked up, startled, but I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t.

Thom stood too, and before I could move, he had me by the arm. His grip was iron. He hauled me toward the back of the library, past the rows of shelves, into a corner where no one could see us.

He shoved me against the wall, his forearm across my throat, pinning me there.

“Listen tae me,” he snarled. “I don’t know what ye think this is between us, but ye better not be entertainin’ the idea of another lover.”

“Fuck you,” I spat.

His forearm pressed harder. I could barely breathe.

“Aye, ye do that plenty,” he said. “But let’s be clear. Ye belong tae me. Educational or not, ye’re mine. And ye owe me, Luc. Ye owe me a lot. I know things about ye. Things that could ruin ye. So it would be a pity if ye decided tae disobey.”

“Go to hell.”

Thom turned his head and looked behind him, toward where Cameron was still sitting, oblivious.

“Maybe I’ll try someone else,” Thom said thoughtfully, turning back to me. “Someone who doesnae have such a smart mouth.”

He looked back at me, and I saw it in his eyes. The threat.

He would do it.

He would go to Cameron. Touch him. Hurt him. Ruin him.