37. Roman
Chapter 37
Roman
M y phone rings twice before his voice crackles through the line.
“Roman,” my father starts, his tone sharp as ever. “Pacheco pulled out. What the fuck is going on?”
I swallow hard, my throat tight, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s found out. “What do you mean he pulled out?”
“I mean he fucking pulled out. He’s done with us. Says he’s found a more reliable supplier for a fraction of the cost.”
I lean back in my chair, staring out the window. “That’s… unexpected. Do we know who the new supplier is?”
“Unexpected?” he scoffs. “And if I knew that, they’d already be dead…” he sighs. “How is it there? Have you been handling the situation like I asked you to?”
I hesitate, then lie. “I’ve been busy. You know how it is, trying to feel out a new place.”
“Busy?” he repeats, his voice rising. “You’re a fucking joke. I should have known better than to trust you with this. It’s not hard to get students to take drugs, Roman. It’s especially not hard when you have an addict with you to make the right connections.”
I clench my jaw. “I’ll fix it.”
“You better,” he snaps. “I’ll be there in a week, since you’re so incompetent. Get your shit together, or I’ll do it for you.”
The line goes dead, and I sit there, the weight of everything pressing down on me.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
We have a week to fix everything, but where do I even begin? The two men I call brothers are so tangled up with a girl who rose from the dead that I’m drowning under the weight of trying to fix everything to keep us safe.
Crew’s in withdrawals, and I spend my nights making sure he’s not swallowed his vomit as his body purges two years of drugs from his system. It’s the longest he’s been completely sober, and I’m terrified Lottie’s going to push him over the edge.
It’s a constant pressure I can’t shake.
My father will be here in a week—one week to get Elijah and Crew back on track and do what we came here to do, rather than chasing the ghost of our past.
I step out into the cool air, a bottle of water in hand, hoping a walk will clear my head.
I need to find Elijah and Crew, to figure out what our plan is.
Rounding the corner to the quad, I see her sitting on a bench outside the library, her nose buried in a book, completely unaware of me watching her.
The sight of her stirs something in me… resentment, anger, betrayal.
She’s stolen so much from me.
I stalk toward her, my footsteps deliberate, the anger building with each step. She looks up just as I reach her, her eyes widening for a second before she shutters, a mask of indifference falling over her.
“Roman. How can I help you?” she asks in a bored tone, like I’m the one inconveniencing her by being alive.
“You need to stay away from us,” I sneer.
Lottie sighs, closing her book. “I’m not the one grabbing people and demanding answers at every moment they get a chance.”
“We deserve those answers! You pretended to die, Reyes. I fucking hate you, but I never wanted you to die.”
“That’s not how I remember it, Roman. I remember you very specifically telling me to kill myself at every chance you got. I did nothing to deserve your hate. I simply existed, everyone else decided I was the problem,” she says, brown eyes boring into mine.
I step closer, looming over her, but she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t cower like she used to, and for some reason that pisses me off more than it should. “You were nothing then. You’re nothing now. Do you think for a moment that any of these people give a shit about you? You’re poison, Reyes, you kill everything you touch.”
She still doesn’t flinch.
Not when I tower over her, not when I spit venom right into her face, not even when the water in my hand spills across her jeans and over her book.
Nothing.
Just that same unreadable look like she’s already filed me under not worth it .
I used to be able to crack her like glass. Now? She’s sitting there and taking it, but that look in her eyes is too calm… and it makes my skin crawl.
Lottie laughs, wiping water from her book and leaving it cracked open on the table to dry. “Do you think a little water bothers me? I’ve had much worse thrown over me…” She tilts her head mockingly. “You should know, Roman, they were always your idea after all. Break the already broken girl because you could never have won against a stronger target.”
“You’re still that same girl, Reyes. You just think you’re untouchable with your new family at your back…”
“Is that so?” a voice sounds from behind me.
I turn, stomach lurching.
Will Roberts.
Tall, clean-cut, cold as stone. Everything about him says money, power… and death. I did my research on him after our first run-in with Lottie and found out that he owns the campus we’re standing on.
He looks to Lottie, eyes softening, then turns to me, his eyes hardening.
“Mr. Roberts,” I say, stiffly.
He doesn’t acknowledge me. He walks straight to Lottie, hands resting on her biceps as he checks her over. “Are you ok, sweetheart?”
She nods, a soft smile on her face. “Was only a little water. I’m alright, Will, I promise.”
“Good.” Then he turns to me, death shining in his eyes. “You assaulted my daughter.”
I roll my eyes. “It was just water.”
His mouth twitches, almost like he’s bored and knows I’m faking it. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t leave her alone. Touch her again, Roman, and I’ll bury you so deep no one will be able to hear you scream. Your name will be scraped from everywhere. You’ll vanish faster than she did.”
He steps into my space, eyes locked on mine. “Apologize.”
I glance at her, but she’s still silent.
I could say sorry. Pretend to back down, but instead, I smile.
“You know,” I say, voice low, just loud enough for her and Will to hear. “Your dad didn’t take it well. You being dead and all…”
She blinks, but it’s subtle. I’ve gotten to her.
“He stuck around for a while. Kept asking the police questions. Wouldn’t stop looking for you because he couldn’t accept that his daughter would kill herself by throwing herself into the ocean…” I pause. “He’s gone, just thought you’d want to know. That is if you still care.”
There it is—the crack in her mask. Small. Subtle. But I see it.
“Didn’t they tell you?” I go on, “I thought with all your new family's money, you would have at least checked up on your dad. Guess not. Guess you didn’t want to know. He’s gone, Reyes, and it’s all your fault.”
Her eyes flicker. Just once, but it’s enough.
Will steps in, blocking my view of her, his jaw tight. “Leave. Now.”
“I didn’t touch her,” I say, raising my hands slightly, like it somehow makes me innocent. “Was just passing along the message.”
“I’m not going to tell you again, Roman. Leave now before I do something I won’t regret.”
There’s nothing else to say.
So I turn and walk away.
But even as I round the corner, the image of her blinking down at that water-soaked book, with the barest flicker of pain on her face, sticks in my mind.
I light a cigarette as soon as I’m out of sight, the wind catching the flame on the third try. My hands shaking.
The small flicker in her eyes… that was real. I got to her. I hit where it hurt, and it felt like I finally had control for the first time in years.
Everything is spiraling, but that? That was something I was good at.
Breaking her back then was my escape. Making her feel as broken as I was.
It made me feel less alone in my misery.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I expect it to be Crew, but it’s Elijah.
Elijah
Where are you? He’s getting worse.
I take one last drag, crush the cigarette under my foot, and head back towards the dorms.
The moment I step into the room, the smell hits me first—sweat, vomit, a sour tinge that clings to the air. Crew’s in the bathroom, curled up beside the toilet, shirt stuck to his back with sweat.
He’s shaking, jaw clenched so tight it looks like he could crack his own teeth.
“Jesus,” I mutter, crossing the room. “How long has he been like this? And where the fuck were you both?”
Elijah sits on the edge of the sink, a wet rag in his hands. His eyes are red, not from tears—he doesn’t cry—but from the exhaustion of watching someone come undone inch by inch. He rolls his eyes. “He went looking for her but started throwing up again an hour ago. He won’t keep water down.”
Crew groans like he’s heard us and wants to die just to shut us up.
I crouch next to him. The words said the other day forgotten for now. “You with me?”
His eyes crack open, bloodshot and wild. “Have you seen her?” he rasps.
Of course, he’s asking about her.
I resist the urge to scoff. “I have. I handled it.”
Elijah blinks. “What does that mean?” as Crew mutters. “You better not have been mean to her. She’s too pretty to cry.”
I ignore him, focusing on Elijah. “We don’t have time for distractions anymore. My dad’s flying in next week, Pacheco pulled out, and now he’s on a rampage. We need Crew sober, and we need to stop babysitting a ghost.”
“Lottie’s not a ghost,” Crew mutters from the floor.
“She should be.”
They both fall quiet, and I can feel the tension stretching between us like a live wire. “You don’t mean that,” Elijah says, leveling me with a glare.
I roll my eyes at him. “Not like she gives a shit about you either buddy. The only one she seems to be going easy on is the idiot on the floor who’s slowly killing himself.”
Crew moans again, clutching his stomach.
I stand, pacing. I hate this feeling—the weakness I feel as we wait. We’re supposed to be building something, taking control, and finally getting free from my dad.
Instead, we’re playing catch-up with a girl who shouldn’t be alive, and dealing with a brother whose body is trying to kill him for denying it what it’s had a steady stream of for two years. I stare down at Crew for a moment, watching how he’s curled into himself, sweat sticking to his skin like plastic wrap. He’s barely conscious now, mumbling nonsense through cracked lips, his body rejecting every ounce of poison he’s used.
“Lottie…” he croaks.
I kneel beside him, trying not to breathe too deeply. “Crew, focus. You don’t need her. You need to get clean. You’re almost there.”
He doesn’t hear me. His nails claw at the edge of the bathmat like he’s trying to crawl away from us. “She makes it quiet. Hurts less…”
“Jesus,” I mutter, dragging a hand over my face. “He’s calling for her like she’s his goddamn salvation.”
“She used to be,” Elijah says flatly, without looking at me. “There was a time they were each other’s person because they both got something we didn’t. Before we broke her.”
“She broke herself.”
“No Roman. She let us break her because she had no other choice. Tell me, what would we have done if she fought back? We would’ve destroyed her in return just like you’re trying to do now.” Elijah corrects me, and god damn me if he’s right.
There’s a long silence. Crew lets out another moan, and I hold him up while trying to get him to drink some water, even though I know it’ll come right back up.
“She told me she was going to forget me,” Elijah says finally. “Told me that was my punishment…”
I glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but he’s staring at the wall, eyes unreadable.
“Think she meant it?”
Elijah shrugs, but I can see the tightness in his jaw. “Who cares?”
He does.
“Exactly,” I mutter. “You’re married. I’m going to finally take down my dad, and Crew’s getting sober. Even if she is the reason…” I hold my hand out for the wash cloth, holding it against Crew’s forehead. “I told her, her dad’s dead.”
“You what?” His voice spikes, sharp and incredulous. “That’s not how we do things. You don’t rip open wounds like that for revenge.”
“She’s dragging us down. You want to save Crew? We make her pay.” I jab a finger toward the door, as if she’s on the other side. “You think Crew’s getting clean for himself? No. He’s doing it because of her, and now he thinks he has something worth getting sober for. You think that ends well? She’ll disappear again, and break his heart, and I don’t think we’ll be able to save him this time.”
“I want no part of this, Roman. I’ll back you with Pacheco. You’re my brother, but I won’t watch you break her again.” He walks into the other room, but he’s not as smooth as he wants to be. His shoulder clips the doorframe on the way out.
“Lottie…” Crew whimpers again. “Don’t leave me…”
My jaw tightens. “She already did, Crew. She left us all. Stop chasing a ghost, it’s going to destroy you.”
He doesn’t hear me… but I know she’s going to destroy us all again.
I just need to destroy her first before my father gets here and finds us fractured and bleeding.
I look down at Crew, broken and shaking, and for the first time, I wonder if I’ve already lost.