Chapter 2

“Lily, what was that?” Mark cornered me behind the 7-Eleven the next day, irritation cracking through his polished act. “You were supposed to drug him. We had a plan.”

Last time, I’d believed him. Now I saw the spoiled coward underneath.

“If you don’t do it tonight,” he hissed, “don’t expect me to rescue you. Stay with your psycho brother forever.”

Forever. Once a threat. Now, a dark promise.

Memory flashed—me pouring powder into Leo’s milk, his trusting eyes, his body fighting the drug, the fall, the snap, his bloodied hand clawing for me. They’re bad. Trust me. I’d called it madness then. Now I knew it was truth.

I focused back on Mark. “This won’t kill him, right?”

Before he could answer, Chloe slid in beside me, smiling sweetly, slushie-red lips curved in mock concern. “Just enough to knock him out,” she whispered. “Your brother’s a creep anyway.”

The word lit something cold and lethal in me. But I swallowed it, nodded, played afraid. Inside, I was already dismantling them.

That night, Leo knew. The second I shut the door, his voice was at my neck. “You saw him again.”

He was burning with fever, stubbornly upright, hurt masked as control. When he finally sagged, I guided him to the couch.

For the first time, I cooked for him.

Soup, simple and real. He watched every move like it might be poison, then ate anyway.

I talked—about the future, about leaving, about something better. He listened, wounded disbelief in his eyes.

“Prove it,” he said finally.

The power cut. Darkness swallowed the room. His presence closed in—fear, need, devotion tangled tight. Not violence. A plea.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered.

Last time, I ran and destroyed him. This time, standing in the dark with everything broken between us, I chose differently.

I stayed.