***

I couldn't tear my eyes from George as he seized the man he'd just floored, gripping the collar of his shirt and unleashing punch after punch.

My mouth parted at the sight.

I'd never witnessed my stepbrother this violent before. His brown fringe was plastered to his forehead, his dark eyes ablaze with fury. Each punch resonated like thunder through the corridor.

Within moments, half a dozen burly students lunged in, grappling at George's arms, trying to drag him away. The hallway tore itself apart around us. Fists whistled past, bodies slammed into lockers, and terrified shouts ricocheted off the tile.

Though George outmatched anyone that threw themselves at him, his strength couldn't keep up with the sheer number of attackers. Out of nowhere, an abrupt crack into his ribs sucked the wind from his lungs and sent him staggering.

My heart pounded so hard, I couldn't stand it.

"Stop! Please!" I pleaded, but my voice was swallowed by the roar of violence.

I couldn't bare to see George get hurt anymore. The longer the fight went on, the more attacks landed on him.

"Stop it!" I shouted. "Please—"

The fire alarm suddenly blared, and a moment later, the sprinklers erupted overhead, drenching everyone in a cold, soaking spray. Students shrieked, slipping across the slick floor as they scrambled for cover. The chaos seemed to break the momentum of the fight, at least for most, but not for George. Soaked and seething, he still yanked his attackers close, slamming them with brutal, relentless blows.

I spun around, trying to see what had triggered the alarm, and my gaze locked onto a familiar pair of green eyes. Silas. His reddish-brown hair was already darkening to auburn beneath the water, plastered to his forehead as he stood near the fire alarm switch, a fire extinguisher clutched in one hand.

To my shock, Silas didn't stop there.

Scowling, he marched straight toward George, swinging the extinguisher like a bat. Each strike knocked one of George's attackers off balance, scattering the crowd. One by one, they fell back, slipping and sliding in the puddles until the remaining students turned tail and fled.

Silas dropped the extinguisher with a heavy clang and turned to me. Without a word, he shrugged off his soaked baseball jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I was too stunned to move, too dazed to protest. He roughly took my arm and guided me toward the exit, leaving George and the others behind.

My legs felt like lead. My chest heaved with every breath.

"Why... why did you help me?" I asked once we were outside, a cold wind combing through us.

He glanced down at me, a frown still tugging at his lips.

"I told you, I'll believe in innocent until proven guilty. I don't make the same mistake twice."

"Didn't you hear the news? I got arrested again."

"But nobody proved you did anything wrong?"

I stared up at him, at the way drops clung to his lashes and matted his hair into little clumps, almost like drooping ears.

He used to be one of them... The people who bothered me. But despite all that, he changed. And now he's someone I can rely on.

Did that mean anyone could change?

Even Jace?

"Hey," Silas said gently, stepping a little closer as his brows narrowed. "Are you hurt?"

I don't know what came over me, but at those words I was filled with so much hope, I barely remembered how to stand. I suddenly collapsed against him, wrapping my arms around his torso and pressing my face into his damp shirt.

"Thank you," I whispered. "For asking."

His body stiffened, clearly caught off guard, before he gave my back an awkward pat.

"It's... it's not a big deal. Don't make it weird," he muttered.

I pulled back, smiling faintly. Maybe it was the adrenaline still rushing through me, but I couldn't feel any pain at all. I knew I'd racked up a few bruises... My head, my jaw, my knees... But right now, it all felt distant.

"I'm just happy to have people believe in me," I said.

His frown deepened.

"Why'd you come back to campus?" he asked. "After spending the weekend in a cell, you should've known people would get agitated on campus. Most people know someone that went missing so everyone's sensitive to this sort of thing. You wouldn't believe how many complaints the university gets flooded with every day. Everyone wants you expelled."

My heart pounded, echoing inside my chest as I remembered why I was here in the first place.

"I have to meet someone," I blurted, glancing toward the other end of the building. "Right now."

Silas narrowed his eyes.

"Who?"

"There's no time," I said, taking off his jacket and handing it back to him. "I have to go before they leave. Could you check up on George? I'm not sure if he needs help... He looked hurt."

Silas glanced back at the door we came from, shrugging his jacket back on.

"He keeps a first‑aid kit in his truck. I'll sort him out. But you can't stay on campus. Especially alone. Get out of here as soon as you're done."

"I will," I said. "Thank you."

He offered a tight nod before slipping back through the door we came from, the fire alarm still ringing. I turned on my heel and sprinted, the path still slick from the earlier drizzle. Clouds hung low overhead, gray and heavy, casting a dull light over the campus. My clothes clung to my skin, still soaked from the sprinkler system, and each breath burned in my lungs.

I reached the deserted corner where I'd last seen Lucas with Razor. A cluster of dumpsters loomed nearby. But there was no one else around.

A knot slowly tightened in my stomach.

Was I too late?

Before panic could fully settle in, cold steel touched my throat. A hand clamped over my mouth, yanking me backward into the narrow space between two dumpsters.

"Where is Lucas Whyte?" a gravelly voice rasped at my ear — familiar and sharp-edged.

I reacted instantly, grabbing the wrist holding the blade and twisting like Anna had taught me. The grip loosened, and I spun around, heart pounding.

The man had cropped hair and an angry scar curving along his temple to the back of his ear.

Razor.

He wore oversized, stained clothes with baggy pants and a box cutter in one hand.

"Oh," he said, lowering the knife slightly. "You're Lucas' girl."

I swallowed, thankful the man seemed to recognize me.

"I'm his friend," I clarified. "I'm here to stop those videos from leaking."

His beady eyes narrowed.

"Where is he? If you know about the backup he keeps, you're either someone he trusts or someone he suspects."

"I'm someone he trusts," I said, quieter now. "He got caught. And if those files go live, he's dead for sure."

Razor's scruffy jaw clenched.

"How do I know you're not lying?" he asked.

"You don't have to trust me... But think about it. If they have him and the videos leak, do you think they'll let him go? Of course they'll kill him."

"If I delete his backup, he's no less dead," Razor pointed out.

"I don't want you to delete it. I just want you to give him more time to get away first."

He looked at me for a long second, the tension thick between us.

"He wouldn't care," Razor muttered. "If he dies, he wouldn't care. As long as he wins."

My chest tightened.

"He cares about one thing. Finding his brother's killer. And I'm not going to let him die before he gets justice for Charlie."

His expression flickered, a crack in his resolve.

"What if you're lying?" he asked. "What if he's already dead? I've known Lucas a while. He's not exactly a saint. Creepy little fucker, honestly. But I respect his hustle. I don't want his work going to waste."

"Like I said, I'm not asking you to delete the backup," I reminded him. "Just delay it. One month. If he doesn't come back by then, you can let it go live."

I never wanted Jace to go to prison... Even if he kills me. But with Lucas involved, things are different. If he kills my friend, I want him to pay for it.

Razor hesitated, then pulled out his phone. His thumbs moved quickly across the screen.

"Fine," he muttered. "I'll schedule it for January third at midnight. After that, it drops automatically — unless Lucas tells me otherwise. So if you run into whoever has him, tell them that even if they track me down and catch me, they're still screwed. They better behave if they want to stay out of prison."

"Is it possible for you to make a backup of the backup?" I asked.

He raised a brow.

"What?"

"They have someone who's trying to find the drive for the backup files by inspecting the camera Lucas had on his helmet. I'm worried if they get to it, Lucas will lose his leverage. So, make sure there are multiple backups."

He nodded as he listened.

"Sounds solid. I'll get to that."

Relief washed over me, and I felt my legs go a little weak.

"Thank you," I breathed.

Razor looked up and met my eyes.

"Don't come looking for me unless you absolutely have to. If you do, go to any downtown barber shop. Ask for a cut along here." He ran a finger over the scar at his temple.

"I understand," I said, nodding.

"Good," he said, walking away. "Now get out of here before someone sees us."

"Thank you again!" I said quickly, already turning and jogging off, my soaked shoes squeaking against the pavement.

My mind raced the entire time.

Did I really just stop the leak?

No... I didn't stop it. I only delayed it.

And I still had no idea how any of this could possibly end well.

If I died on New Year's, Jace would kill Lucas and the leak would go live three days later.

Nobody wins. Everyone loses.

But if I actually killed someone... Then Jace would spare Lucas, and Lucas wouldn't be able to expose Jace without implicating me as well. It would force a truce between the two of them.

It seemed like killing someone really was the only way...

Everyone wins.

And I lose myself.

Did I really have the right to refuse? Just because I selfishly wanted to live a good life?

I didn't know anymore...

My head felt foggy with the weight of it all, like the thoughts were too tangled to follow. I didn't want to think anymore. I didn't want New Year to come at all.

Shaking my head, I picked up my pace and rushed back toward where I'd left Silas and George, praying they were okay. But when I opened the door, the hallway was empty.

The floor was still slick from the sprinklers, with faint streaks of blood glistening between the puddles.

Right! Silas said George had first aid in his pickup.

I hurried toward the parking lot.

With my adrenaline finally burning off, every step became a reminder of what I'd just been through. Pain flared at the back of my head. My chin throbbed, my ribs ached, and even my knees felt bruised.

At the far edge of the lot, I spotted the blue pickup. George sat on the tailgate, slouched forward as Silas dabbed at a cut across his brow. A thin trickle of blood ran down the side of George's face, and his knuckles were raw and split — clear proof that his attackers hadn't walked away clean.

"Now why the hell do you bleed so much?" Silas muttered, frowning as he pressed the gauze a little harder. "Just stop for a second, will ya?"

"Should I give you a cut to match?" George shot back, voice dry.

"Please. I haven't forgotten that time you sent a fastball to my face," Silas grumbled. "I would've reported you if you didn't hand me your first aid back then."

"You harassed my sister."

"So, that ball was on purpose!"

"It was deserved."

"Yeah, yeah."

Silas muttered about his regrets just as I walked over.

"Hey, I'll help if that's alright," I offered, taking the med kit.

He nodded, avoiding eye contact as he stepped back and watched.

Wordless, I knelt beside George, carefully cleaning and bandaging his wounds. My fingers moved on instinct, pressing clean gauze to the cut and wrapping it snugly.

George watched me with dark, weary eyes as I worked. When I finally leaned back and straightened the last strip of tape, Silas spoke up.

"Who were you meeting?" he asked.

I hesitated.

"A friend," I said.

George's brow lifted.

"Bianca?"

At the mention of her name, I stilled for a moment.

Bianca... Why did she look so scared of me? Did she really believe I killed Charlie? I know it doesn't look good for me, but shouldn't friends believe in each other? I have never once thought she was capable of hurting Charlie. And yet... Today she looked at me like I was a monster.

Where did it go wrong? What did I do? I wish someone could give me the answer. I wish I could fix everything.

My eyes went down to my shoes.

Perhaps it was selfish of me to hold onto our friendship. If all I did was bring her pain and fear, the best gift I could give her was by letting her go.

My heart clenched as memories surged through me — afternoons with milkshakes, cheering her on at games, spontaneous trips with Charlie.

All of it... gone.

And I'd never get those days back.

A wave of dizziness swept over me. My knees buckled, but before I hit the pavement, Silas caught me by the arm.

"Easy," he murmured, guiding me upright. "Just sit."

George helped settle me onto the tailgate beside him. His large hand pressed gently against my back, still damp from the sprinklers.

"Breathe," he said.

His touch was warm.

"Sorry," I muttered, eyes fixed on the ground. "I don't know what's wrong with me..."

"You probably need some sugar," Silas said, already turning toward the building. "I'll grab a drink."

I exhaled slowly, my chest finally beginning to rise and fall in rhythm again.

Calm down, I told myself. You're okay. Nothing happened. You're alive, you're healthy.

Compared to Charlie, I had no right to complain.

Even the bruises that throbbed under my skin felt insignificant when I looked at George.

"Does it hurt?" I asked, eyeing the cut on his brow.

He shook his head, then reached out, his fingers gently brushing the bruise blooming at my chin.

"I'm more worried about you," he said, voice low.

A tired smile tugged at my lips.

"How was Thanksgiving? Did you guys enjoy the trip?"

His expression darkened.

"I wanted to come back the moment I saw you on the news. But my dad wouldn't let me — we were visiting my grandparents and they figured it was more important." He rubbed the back of his neck. "And even if I had come back... it's not like I could've done much. I don't have money to bail you or anything. I'd just be... useless."

My brows furrowed together.

"You'd bail me out?"

"If I had the money? Of course."

My heart fluttered.

"I really appreciate that," I said softly, offering a smile. "But please, don't ever waste your money on me. I'd feel awful."

George's dark eyes narrowed.

"But you'll gladly take Lloyd's money?"

I blinked, caught off guard.

"That... Well, I'll pay Jace back..."

He turned to me, leaning forward like I would run away.

"And how exactly are you going to do that?" he asked with the slightest sneer.

My throat tightened.

I couldn't exactly tell him I was paying with my life...

"Just... over time," I said instead.

George let out a short, bitter laugh and turned away, eyes tracing the gray overcast sky.

"You never tell me anything."

The statement landed like a slap.

"I... I never thought you wanted to know," I admitted. "You've always felt so... distant."

He leaned back against the truck bed, tilting his head up to watch as the last few damp leaves fluttered from the oak trees overhead. Water still clung to the branches from that morning's drizzle.

"It was impossible to get close to you," he said, voice low. "Charlie Whyte had his tentacles all over you."

I frowned.

Why did everyone talk about Charlie like that?

I never thought of him as overwhelming or that we spent too much time together. The Charlie I knew was kind and gentle and would help me any time I asked. He studied hard and was at the top of our class.

A sudden memory surged, unwanted.

I saw him, clear as day, standing under that oak tree with that soft smile.

"Lucy," he said. "Let's both die."

My breath caught, and I shut my eyes.

That day he went missing didn't make any sense.

But one thing I knew...

"I'm sorry, George," I said. "I always thought you lied to the police... About me not being home the day Charlie disappeared... But I remembered something recently. I did leave the house that day. And I saw Charlie one last time. I just... I don't know what happened after that."

George turned toward me, watching me.

"You must've had something trigger you. Then had another one of your fainting spells again. Scrambled your memory."

I blinked.

"Wait... another fainting spell? What?"

He sighed, like he'd been waiting years to say this.

"After you and your mom moved in with us, you used to faint. A lot. Then you'd forget it ever happened. Most of the time it happened at school or somewhere outside. And it always wiped your memory of what happened. It got better as you got older. The last time was three years ago."

I stared at him, stunned.

"I... I don't remember any of that."

"Well, yeah," he said. "That's kind of the point. I don't think your mom ever took it seriously. Probably thought you were faking it or being dramatic."

My hand pressed to my chest instinctively.

"And you think that's what happened with Charlie? That I fainted and forgot?"

George looked at me, really looked at me.

"I know that's what happened," he said. "Because I'm the one who found you in the park that day."

My heart lurched.

"What?"

"Hey!" a voice called out behind us. "I brought the drink!"

I jolted, turning just as Silas jogged over with a sports drink in hand, his damp strands still clinging to his forehead.

"Here. Try this. It's got electrolytes," he said, handing over the bottle.

"Thank you," I murmured, taking it and twisting the cap open.

I took a few small sips, the cold drink sliding down my throat, sharp and tangy with citrus. My stomach settled a little, but my mind was still tangled in the conversation I'd just had with George.

I needed to know more.

"So..." Silas said, rubbing the back of his neck, "do you have a ride home?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could get a word out, a familiar voice cut in behind us.

"Why are you all wet without me?"

I turned, startled, and saw Wikus walking up with his usual swagger. His black eyes flicked between us, eyebrows rising at the sight of our damp clothes and unruly appearance.

"There was a fight and the fire alarm went off," Silas explained. "Sprinklers soaked the whole building."

Wikus looked at me again, lips twitching into a grin.

"Well, you definitely need a shower." He stepped closer. "I'll take you home. We can both warm up a little. Jace said he'll be back tomorrow."

My eyes widened at the opportunity.

"Actually... I was thinking of spending the night with George instead."

George's head jerked toward me, brows raised.

"You want to stay with me?"

I turned slightly, facing him.

"If that's okay. I... I'd feel more comfortable."

And I want to finish our conversation...

There was a beat of hesitation, but then George shrugged.

"I don't see any problem with that."

Wikus didn't even try to hide his frown.

"I can't really let you off on your own tonight," he said, voice light but firm. "But George is more than welcome to stay at my place too. I can share. Eheheh."

I glanced at George.

With Wikus, I doubted I'd get a moment alone with George again. And I knew my stepbrother wouldn't talk with someone else around.

Suddenly, an idea popped in my head.

I turned to Silas.

"Hey, why don't you come too?"

He blinked.

"Me?"

"Yeah," I said quickly. "We can all hang out. Make it a fun night. I, uh, wouldn't mind having a distraction..."

A distraction for Wikus.

If Silas tagged along, I could get him to keep Wikus busy.

He nodded, his eyes still slightly widened at the sudden invitation.

"Sure. I don't mind."

Wikus grinned.

"Group sleepover it is. That sounds fun."

***

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and Wikus stepped out first, humming to himself as he led me down the familiar hallway to his penthouse. I trailed behind him, still damp and slightly chilled.

George and Silas said they'd have a shower and grab some clothes before coming over. I definitely needed to clean up too.

Wikus unlocked the door, and we stepped into the vast living room — floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, the cloudy sky casting a pale gray light across the polished floors and leather furniture.

"Go take a shower," Wikus said as he dropped his keys onto the counter. "You'll catch a cold like that."

"I will, thank you."

"Do you need me to scrub your back?"

I frowned while he grinned.

"No, thank you."

Before he could make any more remarks, I headed straight for the bedroom I usually occupied and entered the bathroom. I peeled off my wet clothes and stepped into the shower, the hot water pouring over me like a curtain. My muscles slowly started to relax as steam filled the room.

But my thoughts didn't.

George's words replayed over and over in my mind.

You used to faint a lot and then you'd forget.

The last time was three years ago.

I'm the one who found you in the park that day.

I pressed my palms against the tile and leaned forward, letting the water run down my back.

How did I have no clue about something like that? What triggers it? Did I see something terrible happen to Charlie that day?

And how was George the one to find me?

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made me freeze.

I turned sharply, water dripping from my face.

"Hey, wait a moment — I'm still showering!"

Wikus strolled in without a care, eyes scanning the bathroom like it was his own private locker room. Which, technically, it was. He walked past the foggy glass of the shower and bent down to rummage through the clothes I'd left on the counter.

I pressed myself against the wall, trying to hide behind the narrow strip of frosted glass.

"What are you doing?!"

He laughed lightly, glancing over his shoulder.

"Relax. It's nothing I haven't seen before. It's kind of funny you're still shy."

My face burned.

"Well, the show's not for free!" I protested weakly.

He grinned, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll pay you in full, Lily."

I shut the water off and lunged for a towel, wrapping it tightly around myself as I stepped out, hair dripping and heart pounding.

"Seriously, Wikus. What are you doing?"

He ignored the question, holding up a pair of my white lace panties like they were something exotic.

"These are cute," he said, tilting his head. "Can I keep them?"

I aimed to snatch them away, but my foot slipped on the wet tile.

"Ah—!"

Before I could hit the floor, Wikus caught me.

One arm wrapped firmly around my waist, the other steadying my back. My towel loosened and slipped away completely, pooling at our feet.

Mortified, I froze.

His black eyes roamed over me for a second before he let out a soft chuckle. Up close like this, I could smell the faint scent of paint and something sweet on him, his shoulder-length black hair brushing lightly against my cheek. His rings were cold against my skin.

"L-let me go," I insisted, afraid he'd hear my heart.

"As you wish."

He gently set me on my feet and handed my panties back like he was passing over a pen.

"Relax," he said, already rummaging through the rest of my clothes again.

I snatched my towel and wrapped it around myself, cheeks burning.

"What are you doing?" I asked as I watched him flip through the pockets of my coat.

Before I could ask anything else, he pulled something out, and held it up between two fingers.

"Found it."

I squinted.

"What is that?"

He turned it in his hand, then looked at me with a smirk.

"Obviously a recorder. Jace probably left it on you to find out who Lucas' friend was."

My mouth parted.

I hadn't even thought of that.

He walked over to the toilet, lifted the lid, and casually dropped the small device in. One flush later, it was gone.

My heart was still racing when he turned back to me with a bright smile.

"Don't worry, Lily. I already told you, I'm on your side."

Something about the way he said it, so light, yet certain, made me believe him. Fully.

The doorbell rang.

Wikus glanced toward the hall.

"That'll be your boys. Clothes are on the bed. I'll go answer it."

He turned, but I grabbed his arm.

"Wikus," I said softly, my fingers tightening around the towel. "Thank you."

If he hadn't tossed the recorder, Jace might've discovered Razor's identity... And who knew what would've happened then?

He paused in the doorway, then flashed me a grin full of mischief.

"Do I get a reward?"

I blinked.

"What... kind of reward?"

He pointed to his cheek.

"A kiss."

I let out a slow breath, hesitating. It was just a kiss on the cheek. After everything he'd done to help me, it wasn't that much to ask... right?

Still clutching the towel awkwardly around myself, I leaned in. My lips were just about to brush his cheek when he suddenly turned his head.

Our mouths met.

My eyes flew open in horror as I jerked away.

"You—!"

But he was already darting out the door, giggling like a kid who'd just pulled the world's most annoying prank.

I wiped my mouth, stunned.

Did that count as cheating?

I wasn't sure. I mean, Jace and I had technically broken up. And he hadn't asked me out again — not properly, anyway. Even if he liked to act like we were still together.

And besides...

My eyes drifted to the toilet, where the recorder had vanished with a single flush. My brow furrowed.

I couldn't exactly blame Jace for bugging me. His life was on the line. But I didn't have to be thrilled about it either.

Still scowling, I stepped out of the bathroom.

On the bed lay an oversized black shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants — definitely Wikus' clothes. I tugged the shirt over my head. It was so big it slipped off one shoulder, baring my collarbone. I tried the pants next, but they slid right off my hips and I gave up on them. The shirt was long enough to be a dress anyway.

With one last deep breath, I padded barefoot into the living room.

Just as I entered, the front door swung open.

George walked in first, tossing his bag onto the couch with a sigh, looking bored.

Silas followed behind, balancing two packs of beer. His eyes widened as he looked around, slowly turning to take it all in.

"Damn," he said. "This place looks amazing. I mean, my family's rich too but even I don't have a penthouse like this."

Wikus grinned as he retrieved a bottle of wine.

"My favorite part's the pool upstairs."

My eyes widened briefly.

"You have a pool?"

"Yup," he said with a smirk. "We can go skinny dipping later."

I gave a breathy laugh, shaking my head.

But from the corner of my eye, I saw George's jaw tighten.

Before the tension could stretch further, I turned to Silas.

"Why'd you bring drinks?"

He shrugged and dropped the packs on the counter.

"Thought we could celebrate. You know, for getting out of jail."

I let out a soft chuckle.

"Wow. When you say it like that, it sounds like I broke out or something."

Just then, Wikus' phone lit up and started buzzing. He picked it up, checked the screen, then held it out toward me.

"It's for you."

I frowned and walked over to take it from him.

"Hello?"

"Luce." Jace's voice was low, familiar. "I heard you stopped the leak."

I glanced toward the hallway and walked a bit farther from the others.

"I only delayed it..." I said. "The leak is scheduled for one month from now. Unless Lucas meets up with his friend, it'll go live."

There was a slight pause before he spoke again.

"Still. You did well," Jace praised. "It really means a lot to me. I'll have to reward you when I'm back tomorrow."

That sent a small jolt through me, a stupid rush I tried to ignore.

I gripped the phone tighter as I walked into my room.

"How's Lucas?"

"He's well taken care of."

"I want to see him."

"You can visit this weekend."

"Can't we... give him better living conditions?" I asked, lowering my voice.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," he said, clipped. "For now, I think you should let Cindy and Anna stay with you at the townhouse—"

"I'm staying with Wikus tonight."

Silence.

Then, a heavy sigh.

"I don't like the sound of that."

"And I don't like recorders planted on me," I fired back.

The more I thought about how terribly wrong things would've gone if not for Wikus helping, the more frustrated I felt myself getting.

"Luce, of course I'm trying to gain an advantage," Jace said. "If those files go live... Tell me, do you really believe I'd be sent to life in prison?"

An uneasy feeling knotted in my stomach.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Maybe the others would get life in prison," Jace said. "Your precious painter... Cindy... Anna... Everyone. But me? You have to know I'll be receiving the death penalty. Right?"

My heart dropped to the floor.

Only then did everything become clear. I wasn't only condemning Jace with the information that could leak. I was condemning Wikus and everyone else too. And although I should've, I didn't realize that the death penalty was a high possibility for him.

"If... If you kill my friend, isn't that what you deserve?" I whispered, hoping he didn't hear how my voice shook.

Jace chuckled.

"Fine," he sighed. "Stay with Wikus tonight, but if he crosses any lines, let me know."

My lips tingled as I remembered the kiss.

Maybe it was guilt or fear, or something else entirely, but I felt stubborn.

"What does it matter if he crosses any lines?" I asked. "We're not dating."

His voice instantly sharpened.

"Yes, we are."

"I broke up with you. And you never asked me again."

I bit my lip, unsure what I even wanted from all this.

"I'll be sure to ask you," Jace said, his tone dropping slightly, "as soon as I get back."

My breath caught in my throat.

"But," he added, "I can't guarantee you'll be able to walk away after."

Heat bloomed in my chest and spread lower.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't.

All I could do was hold the phone tighter, biting my lip, and pretend my heart wasn't racing.

Despite being angry and frustrated with him... Despite the threat he was...

The thought of someone insisting I was theirs, made my thighs press together.

"Until then," I said into the phone, "I can do whatever I want. I don't belong to you, Jace. If I want to mess around, I will."

I could hear his sharp intake of breath.

"Of course you're free to sleep with whoever you want," he said. "Just as I am free to kill whoever touches you."

A shiver ran through me. His voice was low and dangerous, and it made something curl tight in my stomach. I hung up before I could say anything else that would damn me.

Taking a deep breath, I turned around.

And froze.

George leaned against the door, his bulky arms crossed over his chest as he watched me.

Did he hear what I said?

Heat rushed to my face, and I looked away.

"That was, um... about earlier," I stammered. "You said you found me in the park. What happened? How did you know where I was?"

He stared at me for a moment longer, then looked off to the side.

"It's best you don't know."

I stepped closer.

"But I want to know."

George sighed and turned away.

"Trust me, Lucy," he said. "Some secrets are best kept secret. This is for your own sake."

I took another step toward him and gently grabbed his arm.

"Please. I need to know. It could help solve what happened to Charlie!"

He turned his head slightly, eyes flicking down to my lips, then lower.

My breath stilled.

Then he turned away again.

"No."

Just like that, he walked back to the kitchen.

I followed, frustrated but not ready to give up. Silas and Wikus were already pouring drinks, joking about who could drink the most. Wikus slid a can across the counter toward George, who caught it without a word.

An awful idea came to mind.

If I wanted any answers...

I'd have to get George drunk and alone.

***