After that confession, we remained in my room. I was now shirtless, still on the bed, while Victoria lounged on my couch and Mel sat beside her, holding her arm down. Why? "You did what?!" She screeched, and when I said nothing, she lunged for me, fingers stretched out, scrambling to reach me as Mel held her back. "Let me fucking be!" I made no move, not even to throw her out of the room, because at that moment, I couldn't find the will to stare her down. Now she glared at me, opened her mouth to say something, then shut it, narrowing her gaze at the wall. So much for telling her, huh? Nothing had changed except maybe her rage and the silence that filled the room. "You're despicable." Mel broke the silence with a groan, leaving a still simmering Victoria. She sat beside me, space hoarding as her knees were wide open. "But unlike my mistress, I'm here to help." A mock smirk appeared at the corner of my lips. I'd never get used to her calling the pest that. She caught the grin, th
I stared, frozen at the door, at his forehead pressed against the wood, dark hair hiding half his face. It was him. It was him, alright. But Tristan… Tristan would never apologize to me. So what was this?“I know,” he said, his voice low. “It doesn’t matter if it was a mistake or if it wasn’t your mother’s calls. I shouldn’t have been doing that in the first place.”My grip on the door slackened, my thoughts going quiet. What was he doing?As if sensing the shift, he pushed himself off the wall, standing before me. He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking up at me while I still hadn’t found my words.“I’m not usually like this,” he continued, his eyes searching mine. “But since you ask why, I guess I have to say something.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Watching you that day, I realized I did steal your position. So… I gave it back. It was never mine in the first place.”I pushed the door wide open and stepped aside.He glanced at the open doorway, then back at me. I turned
JADE'The number you're trying to call is switched off, please try again later...'I turned to my side on the bed, the covers up to my chin, staring at the blank screen of my phone.Another weekend, and once again, Myles wasn’t picking up. Which meant one thing—Tristan.I had given up trying to understand why Tristan got to him like that. Ever since the project day, when Tristan sent George to the hospital for making a move on Myles, things had been a mess.Did Myles hate him or not? Should I wish Tristan death or not? The thoughts clawed at my head so badly it was hard to concentrate. It didn’t help that Myles had been scarce ever since the coach made it his mission to ensure Myles was more than ready.Why did Tristan leave the team? Why let Myles stand in his place? So many questions swirled in my head, and not even that fucking Eros wanted to help.Urgh.I’d cornered him once, pushing a black parcel into his locker. He turned, his eyes falling on me with my arms akimbo. He shut the
JADE "Jade, it's me, Eros... Shh, don't make a noise." I stood there with my back pressed to his pounding chest while the crashing continued in the sitting room. My body relaxed, almost fainting, but then I saw the gleaming muzzle of a pistol in his hand. My body went rigid, and my heart sank. "You really saw him get in here?" A voice bellowed from the sitting room. "If he's on the run, you think he'd just dive into some house?" "I know I saw him scale the barbed fence," another frustrated voice responded, followed by something heavy being pushed. "O penso." "Oh now, you fucking think? This is what the boss means when he says you're getting in over your head, silver. Now you ruined the fucking place!" With his grip still tightened on me, Eros pulled back until we were hidden behind my thick dark curtains. Just two seconds later, my room door slammed open, accompanied by a snap. "We wouldn’t be fucking here if you had just kept your mouth shut and aimed right." My body stiffened
**TRISTAN**After the brawl in my house days ago, I drove back to the condo, three pairs of eyes digging into my face, waiting for me to spill. I walked past them, striding to my room and turning in the key.In the darkness, I lay, watching the wall, my phone beside me, waiting for the call, yearning for the ring. His rage etched on his face replayed in my head. For an addict desperate for a taste of him, I really continued to fumble things up.He was going to call. He had to call.Two days later, he did. "Can you pick me up?"He didn’t need to ask twice. I just didn’t expect to see him there—in the parking lot of a hidden bar. Stopping right in front of him, Myles dove into the front seat, eyes pinned out of the windshield, hands still stuck in his pockets.Without another word, I drove down the road to the condo, waiting for his protest, but it never came. I kept the silence, my thoughts filling with questions I needed to ask.But it was as though Myles was hell-bent on making me su
JADE "What the hell is he doing?" Natalie sneered, her eyes—along with hundreds of others—fixed on the figure at the center of the school wielding a water pipe. "That's nudity! How do they allow it?" Leo cleared his throat loudly, flipping a page of his book. "Apparently, you're the only one not into him. Right, Myles?" Myles frowned at Leo. "What does that mean?" Leo said nothing, returning his gaze to the show before us. At the center of the school compound, watering the flowers lined along the walls, was Tristan. But somehow, it seemed the pipe had gone out of control, drenching the thin white shirt he wore. The material clung to his skin, leaving little to the imagination. From the second floor, we had a perfect view, close enough to make out every swell of his muscles—and by God, was this Greek god built. Girls oohed and ahhed, swooning each time he moved, each time he looked up squinting, and every damn time he "accidentally" flexed. But I saw it. None of this was a clums
‘Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep Beeeeeeeeeeeeeep…’ The sound grated against my nerves, cutting through the quiet of the afternoon. Standing at my window, I resisted the urge to grab my hockey stick and chuck it at the smug bastard below.Tristan sat casually in the driver’s seat of his sleek black car, his head tilted back like he had all the time in the world. He didn’t look impatient—no, that would require some level of normal human behavior. Instead, his gaze was locked on me, sharp and unyielding, as if daring me to ignore him.I cursed again, clutching the strap of my practice bag. He said four. Four! Not three, not three-thirty—four. And yet here he was, honking like a madman an hour early, as though time itself bent to his whims.I glanced at the clock again. 3:01.He’d been here for one minute and already made it feel like an eternity.Taking a deep breath, I swung the window open and leaned out. "Tristan, what the hell are you doing?"He grinned up at me, that infuriatingly perfect smi
EROSThe chase had stopped, ever since the night they spotted him scaling Jade's window. He hadn’t seen them again.Perhaps the Godfather decided Myles wasn’t worth the fuss now that he was no longer seeing his most priceless possession. But the real question was—would Tristan keep it that way?Eros had known the bastard since they were eleven, the grey-eyed boy whose gaze was just as soulless as the Boss’s—maybe worse. The only human who could make the Boss’s demeanor shift.They became friends, more out of necessity than connection, but as days passed and chaos surrounded Eros at every turn, he realized maybe the grey-eyed monster wasn’t so bad. Eros knew bad—his father, his stepbrother—but Tristan? Tristan had looked out for him.So, they became best friends. Even though Tristan was always one step away from plunging him into his grave, he had also always found a way to get him out of it.It was over, right? His father didn’t want him dead anymore, right? So why was he squatting by
TRISTAN "Where the hell is the Boss?!" I growled, slamming my fist against the thick glass demarcation. "You fucking tell me where the Boss is right now!" But the goon keeping watch only took a long look in my direction, shook his head, and walked out the door. My throbbing fists clenched against the glass. This… all of this was frustrating. Being dragged here, Nico ignoring me, throwing me into this compartment that felt like a damn asylum… and worst of all, not knowing how Myles was faring. All of it fueled my pacing, my yelling—despite knowing no one could hear me. There was a telephone on the wall at my side, the only way to communicate with the outside. But in my rage and fear, I couldn’t think clearly. I’d tried pleading once, but the goons had looked straight through me, as if I were a ghost, before stepping out. There was no way to escape. This place didn’t even have windows. Punching the glass was useless—my knuckles had already begun to bleed. I raked my finge
TRISTANThe phone pressed to my ear wasn’t mine, but from it seeped my uncle’s voice. He sounded strange—void—and with every word he spilled, it dawned on me why there were three goons behind me, pressing a gun to the back of my head. "Follow them peacefully," the boss ordered. My brows hardened and knit together, my eyes narrowing at the florist, who kept giving us nervous glances, but not once did she reach for the phone to call the police. They had warned her… or she understood the atmosphere’s language and realized it was better to stay out of it. "Cut it out, Uncle," I gritted out, the flowers hanging loosely in my hold. "Can we do this later? After I take Myles to the hospital?" There was silence for seconds before his voice came on again. "Look back at the car, Tristan. Do you really think you're in a spot to negotiate right now?" What did he mean by—? Myles was staring at me, his jaw set, his eyes soft yet unreadable. Beside him, Jade was climbing out, her hand
EROSWhat was there to look at? Nothing interesting at all. Just his father strolling out of his brother's apartment, expression sullen and knuckles dripping blood that wasn't his.Guess there was a limit to the incompetency love makes you take. Sometimes you just get to hit your favorite things even when it hurts you.He was curious what his reaction would be when he found that thing dead.On the fence shrouded by tall trees, Eros watched his father wipe the blood off his hands. Then, flinging the hanky behind him, he turned to two of the goons, barking out orders.Eros pulled his hoodie up, eyes still a little drowsy from his escapade at Tristan's condo. He waited... patiently... any moment now.The old man's eyes scanned the house one last time. Then his phone rang, and he slipped into the car with his men, and the car sped off.Eros smiled... this was it.With a couple of moves, face mask set in place and the smooth, cold steel against him, he dropped down to the floor, still shro
I found the door of the mini bar open, and with a loud sigh, I walked in. Eros, who was raising a half-filled tumbler to his lips, paused for a second, then shrugged it off before he took a mouthful, wincing when it hit too much. "The Boss has been looking for you." I broke the silence. "Where have you been?" His lips twitched bitterly, neck twisting a bit to catch a glimpse of me, then shaking his head. "Quit pretending you care. It doesn't suit you." I stopped. It’s his voice. It holds no malice, just exhaustion, like the sight of me is something he can't stomach. Even in the dim light, I saw it all—the fragile state he was in. "Of course I care. You're my—" "Friend?" He chuckled, dropping onto the stool and resting his forehead on the counter. "You were the worst thing that ever happened to me, Tristan." He paused. "I mean, my life was shit before, but you came in and..." "What the fuck are you saying?" I snapped. "I'm saying don't ask silly questions. Don't shift th
"You pick up that call," he murmured, "and I swear to God, I'll kill him."A smirk tugged at my lips. "Noted."He raised his head to stare into my eyes, then leaned in, kissing the smile off my lips, trailing down until he nibbled the hollow of my neck. I caught my breath, drowning in his touch. In the back of my mind, a voice whispered, reminding me to pull away like last time, to let him heal. But how could I, when he looked at me like that? When I drowned in those soft grays that called to the darkest part of my soul.He fumbled against my zipper, hands slipping and digging into my hips, as if pressing hard enough would merge us and make me forget the phone ringing in the background. I arched into Tristan's touch, my back hitting the wall as his hands finally freed me from my jeans, but despite his ragged breath, he wasn't fully into it. More times than once his gaze narrowed to the buzz.His body stiffened every time the phone rang, like it was a nightmare he'd rather not face.
MYLES The way he looked at me—it was as though he couldn’t believe I was here, touching him. As though he was waiting for the moment he’d wake up from this nightmare. As though I was too good to be true. He looked at me like he was broken, and I was the only one who could fix him. And that scared me. Not because the future looked bleak, not because I couldn’t trust myself, but because I dreaded the day he’d stop looking at me like this. Like I was the reason he still held his breath. Tristan made me weak. Weak enough to turn away. *Never stop needing me*, I wanted to scream. *Keep me so much it hurts*. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it… “I don’t believe you,” Tristan muttered, taking my hand and pressing it against his chest so I could feel his racing heart. “I don’t believe anything you say. But…I’ll take anything you give me. As long as you don’t leave. "You’re all I ever wanted.” I tried not to shiver as he leaned in. The first press of our lips was slow, gentle, nu
TRISTAN *You’re so damn heavy…* I wasn’t sure what had my lids fluttering open—the bright light in this room that smelled too familiar or the feminine voice scraping at my nerves. My lips were dry, cracked, and when I ran my tongue over them, I tasted something medicinal. My body felt like I had walked through fire, my head pounding—not in the unbearable way when the voices grew loud and screeching, but like I’d knocked it against a wall on my way to bed. My eyes cracked fully open to my room. The intricate design of the ceiling sharpened in my vision, the cold air caressing my bare upper body as the woman’s voice became louder. Christ… what happened last night? The last thing I remembered was tumbling down the stairs until I hit the floor… then… what? *Don’t wake up. Don’t leave me.* *Come on. I’ll take you home.* Of course, my chest tightened. Myles. I hallucinated so damn hard about him I could swear I smelled a whiff of his scent. Now, I was lying here alone, waitin
NICO At the top of the stairs, leaning against the balustrade, he watched it all happen—the organ in his chest clenching so hard it was painful. The pain intensified as he watched Tristan leaning into the Latino’s touch like he was life itself, like he was his own fucking breath. His grip around the boy’s ribs was so tight, Nico wished he’d press even harder and crush the brat. That touch... Nico stared down at his own hands—soft, without the fucking callouses—proof of how little he had held a gun in the past seven years. And now, Tristan flinched away from his touch. His touch... The sharp pain seared past his chest again. Yet, the way Tristan clung to Myles, even in that state… and yet, he flinched. He should have known. He came with Victor’s strength. Of course, he came with his weaknesses too—threefold, even more intense. Let it burn. Nico’s jaw clenched as he released his hold on the lit cigar. Let it all burn. It didn’t matter anymore. But a hand snatched past him
MYLES Throughout the journey back to the hospital, we rode in silence. Not once did the mayor turn to look at me—his focus fixed on the road outside the windshield—while mine remained on his back or outside the window. And suddenly, I felt it… shame. In the few hours I had stayed in Elysium, I knew more about my family and understood why Mum had kept it all a secret from me. I now understood why she’d been so concerned about how I moved, what I did. But all those times, I remembered it grating on my nerves; I remembered the scorn I felt each time she did nothing about Diego. I remembered thinking Father would have done a better job than her if he were around, but… it was her all along—the reason I was still alive.My sight blurred; I had pushed everyone away—everyone who was concerned for me, everyone who was after my well-being. And I was still doing it: moving alone, making stupid decisions. How would Mum have felt if I came out of Elysium missing two fingers, or if I never cam