Chapter Thirty-One
MILA
I was in bed on top of the covers, lamp off, house quiet except for the hiss of late-night sprinklers outside and a neighbor’s garage door grinding open somewhere nearby. My screen lit around me in a pale glow when the voice message notification slid across.
I thumbed it open, expecting his usual—home, you okay?
It wasn’t.
Drew’s voice filled my room instead. Low. Controlled. “Protect yourself. Don’t let Mila be the reason you go down.”
My blood iced.
Rustle on the line. Then Luke, so quiet I had to lift the phone to my ear. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Doesn’t matter how it starts,” Drew said. “If you’re standing too close when it blows, you’ll take the hit too.”
A breath from Luke, too long, too thin. “She’s not the problem.”
“I didn’t say she was,” Drew returned. “But her family, our family, Dunn’s family? Those lines are crossing in ways that don’t end clean. You’re worth more than getting caught in the grind.”
“You talk like you’re not part of it.”
“I am. But I also know what to watch out for.” Drew’s tone stayed even. “So hear me: keep your head. Don’t throw away leverage because you’re leading with your heart. If you need to worry about someone, don’t start with Dad.”
A pause. Luke again, softer. “Who then.”
“Lorne.” The name came like a blade. “He fixes problems. He doesn’t hesitate. And he thinks protecting us means cutting out anyone who dents the family.”
Silence stretched, filled with the hum of their kitchen. A drawer opening, a glass against the counter. The audio cut out for a beat or two before Luke’s steady but too raw voice sounded close to the phone. “I’m not leaving her.”
But there was a beat before it. The hesitation scraped through the speaker—less certainty than fight, as though he was forcing the words through doubt.
Drew pressed anyway. “Then don’t give Lorne a reason.”
The message cut off with a tiny mechanical click.
I stared at my ceiling until the white square blurred. My pulse banged at my throat as if that could push air back in. He hadn’t meant to send it. My name must have been open on his screen; his thumb must have brushed the wrong icon. It didn’t matter. It was mine now.
“I’m not leaving her.”
The pause before the words burned into my skin.
Luke texted before first bell: Early film. See you at lunch. You good?
His message seemed normal. But the shortness of it felt like he was already distancing himself from me, even if he hadn’t meant to.
I typed yes and didn’t hit send. He didn’t deserve my lie. He also didn’t deserve my panic shotgun-blasted into his morning. I slid the phone away and chose quiet.
Before lunch, Avery caught me by the lockers. I told her about the recording. “There has to be an explanation,” she said, low enough that the hallway noise masked it.
I shrugged, the only answer I had. “Maybe.”
She didn’t push, just slid me a look that said she didn’t buy my shrug any more than I did. In the classes I shared with Luke, I did my best to ignore him—arriving late, leaving the second the bell rang, sprinting ahead before he could catch up.
By the time lunch came, Avery told Jax she wanted to sit with her friends today.
Jasmine and Margie waved us over, already staked out at a corner table.
Avery dropped into the seat between them, pushing up her long sleeves to her elbows, then shot me one glance too many—a reminder that she knew, that she’d sworn there had to be a reason Luke sounded like that hesitation had come from something deeper.
I stabbed at the salad on my tray and let the noise of their chatter blur. Everyone but Luke sat at their usual table.
Tori was a new fixture glued to Theo’s side, which, by the glare locked and loaded on Elise and Nina’s faces a few tables away, promised fallout sooner rather than later.
I lasted three minutes. Then I pushed up and mumbled something about needing air. Avery’s eyes tracked me, but she didn’t stop me. Her hand brushed my forearm as I passed anyway, a press that said I’m here if you need me.
I didn’t go to the quad. Not today. I took the side corridor between the auditorium and the small practice gym, where a row of narrow windows threw slats of light onto dust and a vending machine whirred.
The air smelled faintly of paint and old paper.
Someone had taped flyers for the gala along the wall.
I leaned against cool brick and breathed until my shoulders stopped trying to live up near my ears. The message played through my mind again without my permission—Drew’s command, Luke’s answer, the line that cut.
Footsteps. Not hurried. Confident. Perfume before presence.
Elise slid into the slant of light and paused three feet from me, as if an invisible tape line marked the beginning of my oxygen.
She didn’t bother with a greeting. “Rough night?”
I kept my face flat. “Get lost.”
She smiled, all pearl and poison. “I could. Or I could offer you a little kindness, Mila. You look like you need it.”
“Your definition of kindness and mine don’t match.”
“Maybe not.” She took in the corridor—the shut auditorium doors, the way the light split under them, the emptiness. “Maybe I’m just here to congratulate you.”
“On what.”
“Surviving yesterday.” She tipped her head. Diamonds winked at her ears. “Your mother worked fast with Principal Miller to help get you cleared. Faster than I gave her credit for.”
I kept my voice even. “You framed me. Luke dropped enough proof in front of Principal Miller that he had no choice but to act.”
“Everyone folds for the right person,” she murmured, almost dreamy.
The corridor shrank to the length of my breath. “What do you want.”
“To help you accept inevitable things.” She lifted one shoulder. “You and Luke aren’t built for the long game. You know it.” Her gaze flicked to my pocket. “He sent you audio last night, didn’t he?”
No one should’ve had access. Not her. Not anyone. My skin chilled even as my phone felt hot through denim. “Back off.”
“That would be a yes.” The gleam in her eyes brightened. “Family counsel can be clarifying. Protect yourself. Don’t let her drag you into the fire. You heard it, didn’t you? And then the part where he agreed the smartest move might be distance.”
My throat scraped dry. “You shouldn’t know that.”
“I know more than you think.” She didn’t blink.
“My family and the Kings make messy stories disappear when they threaten the wrong people. Lorne makes sure it happens. And Luke?” Her voice softened on his name.
“Luke was raised to protect the family first. He’ll fold into their version before yours. ”
The world tilted. I forced my feet to stay planted. “Say it enough times and maybe you believe yourself.”
“It is true.” She stepped closer, careful not to touch. “You want me to tell you he doesn’t care about you.” She shrugged. “He does. He cares so much it turns into weakness—and weakness that doesn’t align with family goals gets cut.”
“By Lorne.” My stomach churned, and bile splashed against the back of my throat. “Get away from me.”
She straightened, as if I’d bored her. “Enjoy your last week. Or month. However long it takes for him to decide the smart move is distance. He’ll tell you it’s for you. That’s his style. It will sound gentle. It will cut the same.”
“Leave.” The word was steady now. “Before I make you.”
Her smile sharpened. “You won’t. Because right now you’re wondering how much of what Luke tells you is a lie and how far he’ll go to give his family the ending they want—with me in it.
And you’re probably realizing your mom works for my dad, which means I hold more power than you ever will.
” She pursed her lips. “Or even if I was there when this conversation went down and if Luke and I laughed when he sent it to you.”
I didn’t move. I didn’t blink. I let my stare do the pushing for me. She held it. A beat. Two. Then she broke away, footsteps fading across the polished wood, leaving the air thinner in her wake.
My back slid down the wall, the cold brick seeping into my shoulder blades.
Light from the high windows caught the dust and turned it into something I could measure by seconds.
I pressed both hands to my eyes and counted to five, then twenty, because five didn’t touch it.
My chest stuttered—breath, halt, breath, halt—as if my ribs had jammed.
Luke’s message replayed in my head, tangled now with the subtext Elise had slipped into the cracks. Was he playing me for a fool? Was she right—that the two of them were inevitable? And how else would she have known about the recording I got last night?
It was hard to swallow, especially with everything Elise had already done—the tampering, the rumors, the quiet dismantling of anything that tied us together.
Footsteps again. Different cadence. No perfume. I knew the weight of them before I admitted I did.
“Don’t,” I warned, voice raw.
He stopped instantly. The air shifted—less cold, more charged. He left two feet between us and didn’t close them, just stood there until my pulse began to steady against the outline of him.
“Mila.” His voice was low, careful. “What happened? Why the hell was Elise anywhere near you?”
My throat scraped. Words clung. “She—” I wrapped my arms tight around my middle as though I could stop myself from breaking. “She knows things she shouldn’t.”
His shoulders went rigid. “What things?”
I shook my head. The words stuck as if caught on barbed wire.
“Mila.” His voice cut sharper. “Tell me.”
I pushed to my feet so fast the blood roared in my ears. “That recording you sent last night—Elise knew. She threw it in my face like it was some private joke between you two.”
“What recording?” His eyes narrowed, lines cutting deep. “What do you mean she knew? And what the hell was she even doing near you?”
“She knew, Luke.” Fury burned through my throat. “She said you’ll fold the second your family demands it. That you’ll protect their version of your future, not anything with me. So, tell me—am I supposed to believe she’s wrong?”
His voice dropped low. “You really think I’d choose them over you?”
“You said maybe you’re right when Drew said don’t let Mila be the reason you go down.”
His brows rose. “That wasn’t the whole conversation.”
“Whatever. The point is you said it.” Even though there was no way I’d take anything Elise said at face value, I’d had it. I threw my arms up, disgusted. “Forget it.”
He caught my arm as I shoved off the wall to storm past him. The heat of his grip seared more than it steadied.
“Let me go, Luke.” I forced the words between my teeth. “I need space.”
For a second, he didn’t move. Then his hand fell away.
The heat of his grip stayed even after he let go, a ghost burning against my skin as I hurried through the hall and shoved through the exit doors.
I didn’t look back, just moved past the glass and the stares, out to the parking lot where the afternoon sun made everything too bright.
My keys fumbled in my grip before I shoved into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.
The engine roared too loud. Tires squealed as I pulled out—nowhere to go but away. Away from the halls. Away from him. Away from the trap Elise had set that I’d walked straight into.
My hands shook on the wheel, and all I could see was the way his forehead had rested against mine days ago. The memory cut brutal against his silence now.
By the time the coastline unrolled in front of me, the only thing that made sense was the ocean. I parked in the lot and reveled in the wind as it shoved against the car while my pulse tried to catch up.
My phone buzzed in the cup holder. A text from Avery: U okay? I stared at it until the screen dimmed. I couldn’t bring myself to answer.
Even with the ocean in front of me, I could still feel the weight of his hand anchoring me. It made the emptiness worse, not better.
Space—that was what I’d asked for. What I thought I needed. Instead, I felt only hollow where certainty should be—and the sharp edge of wondering if everyone else already knew the game, and I was the fool still learning the rules.