Chapter 3
THREE
Ruin
I can’t watch this. And by the looks of it, neither can Wolf. His jaw ticks once before he turns away—stiff shoulders, clenched fists, whole body like a ticking bomb that refuses to blow. He walks out without a word. Just gone.
I stare at his retreating frame for a brief moment before turning back to look at Glory and Charlie again. Glory’s a mess of skin and spit and bruises. Bel’s standing near the wall, hands shaking. Eyes huge. She’s staring like she just found out violence hurts.
“Leave since you can’t handle this,” I mutter loud enough for her to hear under Glory’s screeching.
She nods, jerky and broken, and bolts out the cell door.
Then I see it.
It’s maybe the third punch to Charlie’s head, but it rocks her to the core. Her head lolls forward. No tension. No fight. Nothing. Her whole face softens in that ugly, too-still way. Like she’s already halfway gone.
Fuck.
I can’t let this happen. I can’t let it go this far.
Hell, I know it’s incredibly hypocritical of me to even let this swift stab of guilt in. When I’m the one who technically could’ve—
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Stop!” I bark.
Juggles halts mid-swing like her arm short-circuited. She steps back instantly.
Trixie doesn’t. She’s still on Glory, raining hell down like she’s got something personal to prove. Her rings flash with every hit.
I lunge forward and rip her off. Grabbing her by her waist, I pull her back.
“Get out,” I growl.
They don’t move, so I shout. “GET. OUT!”
Trixie scrambles out with Juggles behind her.
I don’t look at Glory. Ignoring her whimpering, incoherent mumbles. All I can see is Charlie slumped in the chair like she doesn’t have bones anymore. A small, fragile thing breathing in shudders.
I step toward her. One hand outstretched, hovering. Unsure.
She looks fucking dead. I know she isn’t, but the tightness in my chest won’t go away.
I wince when I hear someone yell. The voice sharp and familiar.
“Oh God!”
Chaos erupts upstairs. Followed by hurried footsteps. Doors slam and shouts barrel through the air like a bomb, and she bursts in.
“Oh my God. Stop, stop, stop!”
Deborah, my mom.
Her face crumples as soon as she sees Charlie. “Oh my child!”
She runs straight to her, falling to her knees before her. Then she gingerly holds her head up, assessing the map of bruises already starting to bloom on Charlie’s slack face.
I stand there. Watching her. She’s still not moving.
Mama whispers at first. “Oh God. What have I done?”
She’s still kneeling, hands shaking as she brushes Charlie’s hair off her bloodied forehead.
Then something snaps in her. My mother shoots up like a goddamn firecracker. Her finger jabs into my chest. Hard.
“Why?” she screams. “Why would you do this to a club princess? A child?”
Okay, she’s nineteen. Not a child but I can only blink. My mouth opens but nothing comes out at first. “She—they were stealing from Sinful Chugs. We… we found money in their accounts—”
“Oh, Lord! Glory, I can see. But Charlie?” She shakes her head, wild-eyed. “Charlie would never do that.”
“Mama, I saw it with my own eyes,” I grit out, the words tasting sour. “There were identical cash deposits in their accounts going back five years and—”
Crack.
The slap lands before I even see her hand move.
My head snaps to the side.
She’s glaring at me, tears streaking her face. “Five years ago, Charlie was fourteen. She hadn’t even started working the register. That was a year later.”
I can’t think. I can’t breathe.
“But Glory said—”
“And you’re believing a club whore now, son?” Her voice breaks at the edges. “That’s who you trust now?”
I grit my teeth, but I’m drowning. “Mama, they hang out together all the fucking time. Swap shifts. We saw the money rolling into their accounts, okay? Maybe Charlie didn’t start this. But she’s been stealing our money. Evidence is clear.”
A ragged whisper cuts through the air. “My money…”
My attention jerks toward Charlie. Her head lolls, and she goes quiet again. Mama stares at her, then drops back to her knees before her. Her hands hesitantly hovering over her cheek.
“Even if she did,” she murmurs, voice shaking, “she doesn’t deserve this.” Her eyes flick to Glory, a sneer forming. “God, I should’ve known. I should’ve done something when Charlie stopped coming to our house and started hanging out here instead. With her.”
Then she sobs—miserable and shattered. “I should’ve paid more attention.”
I glance at Glory. She’s slumped, bleeding, and fighting unconsciousness. But Charlie is still out cold.
My stomach turns.
Mama’s right. Fuck. She’s right, we shouldn’t have punished her like this.
Charlie groans, soft and wet like her throat’s full of blood. Her body twitches, and my pulse spikes, terror tearing through me.
All I can see are her bruises now. The split in her lip. Her right eye, swelling fast. And everything in me goes quiet. There’s no rage. No excuses.
Just pure shame.
“Infirmary,” I murmur almost to myself, my voice hoarse.
Then I turn and jog back to the corridor. “Prospect!” I bark. “NOW.”
One of the boys sprints down the hall. He’s barely out of breath when he shows up. My mother throws me a look of gratitude and… disappointment. But I can’t think about that right now.
“Take Charlie to the infirmary.”
He nods, but roughly reaches under her arms and jerks her body up like she’s a ragdoll.
Mama gasps beside me.
“Gentler!” I hiss, grabbing his cut harshly. “Pick her up properly.”
His face drains white as he nods. He mumbles a stuttering apology, then scoops her up bridal-style. I move in, adjusting her head on his shoulder. She winces, and it’s like a knife in my ribs.
The sharp stab of guilt is now a throbbing pulse, bone-deep. But I swallow it and push it down.
Mama brushes past me, trailing behind them as they disappear down the hall.
And I’m still standing there. Staring at the empty chair where Charlie was. Where I put her.
As did her own brother.
??????
Glory’s passed out now, so I leave her there. I can’t look at her. Can’t feel anything except this dull drum of guilt in my chest. She’s the reason we were so quick to jump to punishment.
I head straight for the infirmary. I need Charlie to be awake. To talk. To fix this, somehow.
Christ. This was too harsh a punishment. We should’ve taken the money back—which we already fucking did—and banished them both. Simple and clean.
But no, we had to go nuclear.
Add to that, there’s this slow, simmering confusion and doubt building in my chest. Lodging deep and stealing my ability to breathe properly.
I’m at the door when I hear voices. Low. Sharp. Mama’s. And the other one, Wolf.
I push the door open as quietly as I can.
She’s standing near the foot of Charlie’s bed, spine stiff, arms folded like she’s about to smack someone again. Her voice’s a low growl. “You should know better than to do this to your own sister.”
“I know, Aunt Deb, but we think—”
“Shut up, Dane. Just shut up and look at her,” she snaps, not even looking at him. “Look.”
He does, wincing, like the sight of her hurts him.
“Now, remember this,” she says. “Because you’ll never be able to take this back.”
The words are aimed at Wolf. But they hit me too. Hard. Something cracks open inside me.
They both turn as they notice me. Wolf looks wrecked. Mama looks like she’s balancing grief and rage on the edge of her teeth.
Ryder’s sitting by the wall with his laptop open, fingers tapping, but his eyes are on the girl in the bed.
“Glory’s out,” I mutter, barely breaking the silence.
Minutes pass and no one says a thing. Then Charlie finally stirs. A hiss escapes her lips, her face instantly crumpling like she’s trying not to cry. The tears form anyway, fast and hot.
She looks at Mama first. Her expression shifts to a heartbreak so deep, that I feel it like a knife to the ribs.
Then she looks at us. At me, then her brother. And just as quickly, her heartbreak turns to terror.
My mouth falls open. Wolf blanches.
“I-I didn’t d-do it,” she stammers, trembling. “Please. I… I didn’t…”
Mama steps in fast, brushing her hair back. “It’s okay. It’s okay, sweetheart. I believe you.”
I do too. I don’t know how or why or what the fuck is changing in my brain—but I do.
Wolf’s frozen. Useless. So I step forward carefully. Slowly. Like I’m walking into a goddamn minefield. “Charlie…”
She flinches. Fuck, that cuts deeper than any bullet I’ve ever taken.
I lower my voice, forcing it to soften. “We know there was money going into your account, okay? It’s okay if Glory asked you to do it. You don’t have to protect her.”
Her lips tremble. “I didn’t… I didn’t do it. I didn’t take anything.”
“Okay, okay,” I say fast, holding a hand up. “I believe you. I do. But can you just tell me where the money came from?”
I crouch slightly, meeting her eyes. “There’s nearly seventy grand in your account, Charlie. And Glory has over a hundred. Just tell me, alright? Where did your money come from?”
She starts shaking her head, whimpering. Tears pouring freely now. “I don’t know where Glory got her money—I don’t. But the money in my account is mine. I earned it.”
The room freezes. My brain stutters. Mama’s mouth parts and Ryder’s fingers go still on the keyboard.
Wolf narrows his eyes at her. “Earned it… how?”
Charlie licks her busted lip, trying to sit up straighter. She fails, but pushes forward anyway.
“I tutor kids,” she whispers, her tone reluctant. “On the side. I’ve been doing it for years.”
We stare.
“I charge twenty bucks an hour,” she says, almost in defiance now. “Help them with essays. Math. Physics. I charge more for SAT prep. Most parents pay cash, some e-transfer. It adds up.”
We’re still staring.
I can’t help but do some mental math. And to my utter shock, I realize that she definitely could have saved up seventy grand—between this and her bar job. Given she was frugal as hell about it.
She sighs. Exhausted, like she’s had to prove her innocence her entire life. “You can ask the parents. But…” Her voice softens, cracking. “Please don’t tell them you’re club. Or that I am.”
She looks away. “Please.”
And just like that, I’m wrecked. Every word Charlie said bounces off the inside of my skull like a live round.
She wasn’t stealing. She certainly wasn’t lying.
She was working. On her own and in secret.
And we got her beaten down like a goddamn traitor.
Horror starts to wash over me. And I can’t stop looking at her, unblinkingly.
Not the bruises. Not the split lip. Not Charlie, the brat.
But Charlotte, the girl we failed.