After Nico walked me back to Lucas’s apartment, the place felt wrong.

Empty in a way it hadn’t before.

Without Lucas.

I couldn’t imagine what he was going through right now. Was he being given drugs against his will? Were they making him do illegal things while under the influence—things he wouldn’t remember afterward?

Would Dylan—?

I reached up to touch my face. My cheek stung. Dylan had never hit me before, and when I looked at my face in the bathroom mirror, it made everything feel terrifyingly real. The entire situation was real. Lucas was gone because of me.

I grabbed a plastic bag, filled it with ice, and held it to my cheek as I sat on the couch waiting. I tried to watch TV. I tried to read. I even tried to sleep—but I couldn’t. All I could do was lie there and wait.

Don’t cry… I’m tired of crying.

I must have drifted into a daze, because I barely registered the sound at first.

THUD!

I bolted upright and rushed to the door, throwing it open.

Lucas was leaning against it—

and then he collapsed to the floor.

“Lucas!”

He didn’t respond. Just low, broken murmurs I couldn’t understand.

I tried to drag him farther inside, but there was no way I could move him across the room. I closed the door once I had all of him inside, then rushed to the bedroom for pillows and a blanket. I kicked off his shoes, slid a pillow under his head, and covered him carefully.

I hope this makes you a little more comfortable.

I glanced at the clock.

After four a.m.

I stood there staring at him, unable to look away or walk off. I told myself I’d go back to the couch. I could see him from there.

But I didn’t.

I lowered myself to the floor and slid under the blanket beside him, my head resting on a second pillow. I hesitated before reaching for him—then I did. I clung to him tightly, like he might disappear if I let go. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face into his back.

Now I can sleep.

I woke to bright light and the sensation of soft circles being traced against my back. When I opened my eyes, Lucas was facing me—watching me.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Are you okay, Noah?”

I nodded as he brushed a few fingers over my cheek.

I sighed.

“I’m sorry you felt like you had to sleep on the floor with me.”

“SORRY?!” I snapped, my voice cracking. “Lucas, I was worried fucking sick about you!”

“I know,” he said softly. “But I’m here now.”

“What did he do to you?” My voice shook as my hands fisted in his hoodie and I buried my face in his chest.

A hiccup tore out of me.

The tears I’d been holding back finally burst, like a broken pipeline.

“What did he make you do, Lucas?”

“Let’s not talk about that right now,” he said quietly, pulling me closer. His arms wrapped tight around me. “Please.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

“…Okay.”

He brushed my hair aside and kissed my forehead.

Where does this guy get off? I thought—even as my chest loosened.

We stayed like that for a while. Breathing him in, grounding myself in his familiar scent.

When we finally got up, Lucas was… off. Shaky. Unsteady.

Not ideal for a football player.

He probably needed food.

“Hey, Lucas.”

He looked up from the couch.

“I’m going to grab something to eat.”

“Let me take you,” he said. “Drive-through. I know you hate the cafeteria.”

“Are you okay to drive? I can if you want.”

“If you’d rather, that’s fine.”

Outside, he laughed when I climbed into the driver’s seat and had to scoot it forward.

“He’s not that much taller than me,” I muttered.

We ended up at a sandwich shop instead of fast food. Healthier than I remembered him being.

Back in the car, he was already eating.

“Hey, Lucas?”

“Yeah?”

“Why this college? You could’ve gone somewhere better for football.”

“I couldn’t think of anywhere better.”

“I didn’t even know you knew this place existed.”

“I didn’t,” he said. “Not until I figured out you’d be here.”

Silence settled between us.

That was… a lot.

“Hey,” he said casually, taking another bite. “Don’t start overthinking.”

He was right. I sighed.

When we got back, several men in black were standing outside the apartment with boxes.

My stomach dropped.

“Those are Dylan’s people,” Lucas said quietly.

“What?”

“He had them bring the rest of your stuff from the dorm.”

I stared at the steering wheel, gripping it tightly.

It was really over. At least for me.

Lucas squeezed my shoulder. “It’s okay. They’re leaving.”

“That’s not what—” I stopped myself.

We waited until they were gone before going inside.

They’d brought everything. New clothes. New books. Fantasy novels I liked.

How did he know my sizes? My taste?

My breathing hitched.

Lucas found me in the bedroom, holding my pills.

“Here.”

“Thanks.”

He watched until I swallowed one.

“What freaked you out?”

“The clothes,” I admitted. “The books.”

“I’ll handle it tonight.”

“Tonight?” Panic flared. “You’re seeing him again?”

“Yeah.”

I sat on the bed.

“I’m sorry.”

Lucas crouched in front of me, hands on my knees.

“Stop apologizing. I deserve this. If you need to hate me for high school to survive this—do it.”

“I don’t want to think about high school,” I said. “Then or now. It all hurts.”

“Okay,” he said gently. “Movie?”

I nodded.

It was strange—how easily he knew me.

Later, his phone buzzed.

Dylan.

“I have to go,” Lucas said, pulling on his hoodie. “I’ll be back.”

“You don’t know what he wants you to do, do you?”

“No.”

He bent down until we were eye-level.

“Can I touch you?”

“…How?”

“Your lips.”

I nodded, stiff, eyes squeezed shut.

The kiss was soft. Careful. Brief.

“Thank you.”

When he left, I sat there too wired to breathe.

And then I went to Nico’s.

He opened the door, surprised.

“Sorry I didn’t call—”

I stopped mid-sentence.

There was a girl in there.

She was sprawled across Nico’s couch in just her bra and panties, scrolling on her phone like she owned the place. An open bottle sat on the table beside her. Smoke hung in the air.

Why is my stomach in a knot?

“Y-you move on fast…” I muttered before I could stop myself.

Nico frowned, confused, then gently grabbed my shoulder and stepped outside, pulling the door mostly shut behind him.

Not all the way.

Through the gap, I could still see the living room.

The girl didn’t even look up.

The smell of weed drifted out past him.

“Noah?” Nico asked, searching my face. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

His eyes were red.

He was obviously high.

“I—”

Oh God. I forgot how to talk. W-what was I here for?

Wait. Lucas.

“I was here to ask what Dylan is doing to Lucas.”

Nico’s jaw tightened.

“Look… you don’t want to know. But I’m going to be honest. It’s probably more than what he put you through. My uncle raised Dylan to be exactly what he is. He likes breaking people who fight back. And I can tell Lucas is a fighter.”

“Break him? But… wait…” My voice thinned. “Your uncle?”

Nico went still.

“Oh shit. Noah, listen, it’s—”

“You… you knew what he was doing to me?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Noah, I—”

The door behind him shifted slightly in the breeze, opening just enough.

And that’s when I saw it.

Two pistols on the coffee table.

Weed. A scale. Cash. The girl still lounging there like none of it mattered.

I felt my blood run cold.

“Guns?” I questioned, my voice cracking.

“You’re related to him,” I said, barely above a whisper. “You’re connected to all of this… more than I thought.”

Nico turned quickly, glancing back inside before looking at me again.

“Noah—”

I couldn’t breathe.

The only thing I could think to do was run.

“NOAH! WAIT!” Nico called after me.

I didn’t stop.

I just kept running.

I didn’t stop running until my lungs burned. I fumbled with the keys, hands shaking so badly it took me three tries to get the door open. The second I was inside, I slammed it shut and locked it. Then I locked it again.

My back hit the door.

I slid down until I was sitting on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, breath coming in sharp, uneven pulls.

I couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

My chest felt too tight—like something was pressing inward, squeezing the air out of me. My hands curled into fists, then opened, then curled again.

No. No, no, no.

I scrambled for my bag, dumping it out on the floor until I found the bottle. My fingers shook as I twisted the cap.

Second time today, a voice in my head whispered.

You’re not supposed to need this much.

“I don’t care,” I muttered, pressing the pill into my palm.

I swallowed it dry and leaned my head back against the door, eyes squeezed shut.

The image wouldn’t leave me.

The girl.

Bare skin.

The guns on the table.

Nico saying uncle like it was nothing.

A sob ripped out of me before I could stop it.

I pressed my face into my knees, shoulders shaking.

“I don’t know who to trust,” I whispered to no one.

The apartment felt too big. Too quiet.

Every sound outside made my heart jump. Footsteps. Voices. A car door slamming somewhere down the street.

I checked the lock again.

Then I waited.

The sound of keys in the door almost stopped my heart.

I scrambled to my feet, backing up instinctively, pulse roaring in my ears.

The door opened.

“Hey—Noah?”

Lucas.

My legs gave out.

I crossed the room in two steps and slammed into him, arms wrapping around his torso like I was afraid he’d disappear if I let go.

He froze for half a second.

Then his arms came up around me.

I buried my face into his chest and broke.

“I was so scared,” I choked. “I didn’t know where you were and I—”

He made a sound.

Not a word.

A sharp, involuntary grunt.

I felt it more than heard it.

I pulled back immediately, panic flaring again. “What was that? Are you hurt?”

Lucas shook his head too fast. “No. I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

He exhaled slowly, jaw tightening. “I’m okay,” he said again, softer this time. “I just… need to sit.”

He eased himself onto the couch like every movement cost him something.

That’s when I saw it.

The way his shoulders were held too stiff.

The way he didn’t lean back.

The way his hand clenched against his thigh.

My stomach dropped.

“What did he do to you?” I whispered.

Lucas looked at me for a long moment.

Then he said quietly, “I got home early.”

That wasn’t an answer.

I tilted my face up without really thinking. Lucas’s thumb brushed my jaw — tentative, asking — and when I didn’t pull away, he leaned in.

The kiss was slow. Careful.

Nothing like before.

It wasn’t hunger — it was relief. The kind that made your chest ache.

I kissed him back, hands fisting into his hoodie again, needing the closeness. His lips pressed a little firmer, his breath uneven now, and for a moment the world narrowed down to just this — just us.

His hands slid to my waist. Mine followed the familiar line of his shoulders.

I felt him tense again.

This time I didn’t miss it.

He pulled me closer as he guided me toward the couch. His kiss grew hungrier as he did.

He gently laid me down before climbing over me, hands braced on either side.

He started kissing my neck.

That was something I’d never felt before.

He bit, sucked, and licked at my skin, sending heat through me. Then he started grinding his hips into mine, my body reacting before I could stop it.

A small whimper slipped out of me.

I wrapped my arms around him again—

And felt him flinch.

My head tilted back.

“Lucas,” I whispered, pulling back. “Take it off.”

He searched my face. “You sure?”

I nodded.

He hesitated only a second before pulling the hoodie over his head and dropping it to the floor. His shirt followed, and my breath caught despite myself.

He went back to teasing the sensitive skin on my neck.

I reached for him — and my hands landed on his back.

I felt it immediately.

Not just soreness.

Not muscle.

Raised skin. Heat. Bandaging that hadn’t been there before.

My fingers stilled.

My stomach dropped.

“Lucas…” My voice shook. “What is this?”

He went very still.

For a second, I thought he might lie.

Instead, he exhaled slowly and rested his forehead against mine.

“I traded pain for time,” he said quietly.

The words hit harder than a shout ever could.

My hands slid away like I’d touched fire.

“What?” I whispered. “No—what does that mean?”

“It means I got to come home,” he said. “It means I got to you.”

My chest caved in.

“You let him hurt you?” My voice cracked. “For me?”

Lucas lifted his head, eyes dark but steady.

“I’d do it again.”

Tears blurred my vision.

I shook my head, hands trembling as they hovered uselessly between us.

“We should stop,” I said. “I don’t—I don’t want to hurt you more.”

Lucas’s hands came up gently, stopping me from pulling away completely. Not trapping. Not forcing.

Just holding.

“Noah,” he said softly. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“You’re not,” I choked. “You’re bleeding for me.”

“I chose it,” he replied. “And right now… I just need to feel like this meant something.”

The desperation in his voice scared me more than the wounds.

Tears slipped down my face.

Lucas sat up and pulled me with him. My face buried in his chest, tears soaking into his skin.

“I don’t want you paying for me with your body.”

“I’m not paying,” he said. “I’m protecting.”

We stayed like that — breathing each other in, holding on like letting go would shatter something fragile between us.

And I realized something then, terrifying and undeniable:

This wasn’t just about keeping me safe anymore.

Lucas was in this so deep he might not find his way back out.

And somehow…

That was because of me.