Chapter 35
TOM
Pete goes on, each syllable heavy, deliberate.
“That’s the thing people never understand. It wasn’t obvious, not at the beginning. With James, it was gradual. Little comments, little rules. What to wear, who to see, how late I stayed out. It felt… protective, at first.”
My chest tightens. I want to reach for him, but I don’t. Not yet.
“And I liked it. At first. It made me feel special. Loved. Like I was the most important thing in the world to him and he just wanted me to be perfect.”
“But, then instead of lifting me up, it ground me down. Over and over again. One remark after the next. Putting me in my place. Knocking me down. Rewriting conversations we’d had.
“And then,” Pete continues, “it was a shove. A grip too tight on my arm. A bruise I couldn’t explain. But by then, he’d already done the groundwork. I believed I had nowhere else to go.”
The silence between us buzzes, alive with everything unsaid.
Pete rubs at his jaw, where the bruise is fading. “It’s not even the violence that breaks you. It’s how he makes me believe I deserve it. If I’d just done things right—kept him calm—it wouldn’t have happened. He’s… he’s very good at that. Making me feel like I’m the problem.”
My throat is thick. I swallow hard, fighting the urge to shout, to scream, to fix this instantly. But I know I can’t.
“There are good days,” Pete continues. “And that’s the cruellest part.
Days when he’s generous, charming, when I feel like the luckiest man alive.
And then the next day, he’ll tear me down so hard I can’t look in the mirror.
It’s like living on a rollercoaster I never bought a ticket for.
But I can’t get off. I’ve forgotten what solid ground feels like. ”
My hands curl into fists at my sides.
“It’s been years of walking on glass,” Pete whispers. “Of calculating every word, every expression. One wrong move means shouting, silence, or worse. That’s what my life is.”
I finally sit down next to him, not touching him yet. Just close enough for him to know I’m here.
He exhales shakily, then glances at me. “You want to know why James lets me… see other people?”
I nod.
Pete gives a humourless laugh. “Because it’s not about letting. It’s about control. That’s the game. He wants me to think I’m free. He dangles the rope and watches what I do with it. That’s what he gets off on — the power. The leash.”
The word makes my stomach drop.
“It’s a trick,” I whisper.
“Exactly. He tells me he’s not jealous, that he’s above all that. Makes it sound enlightened. Modern. But it’s not freedom. It’s just another test. The second he feels threatened, he yanks.”
I don’t know what to say. My head is full of static.
“That’s what happened with Chris,” Pete says finally, voice breaking.
The room holds its breath.
Pete’s jaw clenches, eyes glassy. “Chris wanted more. He wanted me to leave, to build something real. James saw that. Hated it. That’s when the leash snapped.”
My chest tightens like a vice. “Pete…”
“I swore I’d never let it happen again,” he says. “Never. But then you came along.”
His eyes meet mine, and it’s like being pinned in place. “And I told myself it was different. That you wouldn’t be a threat, because it was casual. Quiet. Just connection. Just… a chance to breathe sometimes, away from him.”
I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
“But you knew the risk,” I manage.
“Of course I did. But Tom—” His voice fractures. “Do you know what it’s like to go years without being touched kindly? Without someone seeing you as anything other than property?”
Tears slip down his cheeks. “I knew I shouldn’t. I knew I was repeating the same mistake. But I was so fucking lonely. And you — you made me feel like maybe I wasn’t gone already. Like maybe I was still me.”
I can’t hold back anymore. I reach for his hand. He grips mine tight, desperate, like a man clinging to a rope in a storm.
“So, James let me happen,” I say slowly, “because he knew at some point, he would tear me away from you.”
Pete nods, swallowing hard. “That’s what he does.”
“So, why now?”
“It’s when he realises I care too — that’s when it turns. That’s when it gets dangerous. I thought maybe, if I kept it small, kept it low-key, James wouldn’t notice. Or maybe he wouldn’t care. But James always notices. And James always cares.”
He pulls his hand away from mine and presses his palms flat to his thighs, grounding himself.
I want to scream. I want to storm upstairs and smash every single hidden camera I know is in this house, rip the place apart until James has nothing left to hide behind. I want to take Pete and drive as far as the roads will let us go.
Instead, I sit here. Holding his truth like it’s glass, fragile and sharp at the same time.
“I don’t care how messy it gets,” I whisper. “I’m not walking away from you.”
Pete shakes his head, tears streaking down his face. “That’s what Chris said.”
And in that moment, the air between us isn’t just heavy — it’s suffocating.
“Did you two ever talk about leaving, going away together?” I ask.
“We talked about it, but… it was never going to happen. The risk was too high.”
For a while, neither of us speaks. I listen to the sound of his breathing, uneven, shaky. My own heart is thundering, threatening to drown everything else out.
“Pete, what did happen to Chris?”
Pete presses his fists against his eyes, like he’s trying to squeeze the truth out.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. One day, he was here and the next day, he texted to say he couldn’t be a part of this anymore.
He was moving away. There was something going on with his job, the police were involved.
Talk of him being charged. I’m not too sure of the details, but I never heard from him again. ”
I think of Chris — his name said like a ghost, a warning. Chris who wanted Pete to leave, who vanished into thin air. Chris, who Pete once held, just like I am now.
“Do you think it was James’s doing?”
I picture James, looming, controlling, pulling invisible strings. Pete’s words echo in my head: the leash.
“In one way or another, yes,” he says.
I hate myself for asking the next question, but I need to. “Why me? Why did you let yourself fall into it again, after everything?”
“Because you made me feel alive again. Because you smiled at me like I wasn’t broken. Because for one stupid second, I believed it could be different this time.”
His shoulders shake. He lets out a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob.
All I want is to take it all away. To fix it. To save him. But I know Craig’s words are true — this isn’t something I can fix with hugs and declarations. This is bigger, messier. Still, right now, it feels like the only thing I can offer is to hold him together while he falls apart.
Silence stretches. His breathing shudders. Mine feels tight, thin.
Pete’s body tenses when he glances at the clock. He shakes his head. “You can’t stay. James will be back soon.”
My stomach drops. “So what? I’m just supposed to vanish?”
He moves quickly, already heading towards the study. “No, Tom, listen to me. You have to go. And I need to delete the CCTV of you being here.”
I freeze in the doorway. “What do you mean, delete the CCTV?”
Pete’s voice is clipped, urgent. “James has cameras all over this place. Sam set them up for him. He reviews them sometimes, not always, but enough. If he sees you here—” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but the weight of it lands hard.
I follow him into the office. The room smells of cold coffee and printer ink. He opens the MacBook on the desk, which opens automatically when it connects to his Apple watch. He double-clicks on an icon on his desktop, SecureTech, which pings open.
Pete doesn’t look at me. He clicks quickly, deleting files with the efficiency of someone who’s done it before. So quick, I’m not sure what I’ve just witnessed. “Best to be safe. He’ll never know.”
The screen blinks back to the feed, empty now of evidence. Pete stands, finally looking at me.
“I’ll call you in a couple of days, when things quiet down,” he says, and we share a warm hug.
His face is pale but determined. “You can’t go out the front now. You’ll be filmed again. Go through the back door, left around the house, cut through the trees — you’ll come out by the lane.”
I open my mouth to argue, to tell him how insane this sounds, but his eyes stop me cold. He’s deadly serious.
So, I do what I’m told. I slip out the back door, my breath catching as it shuts quietly behind me.
The night air hits my face sharp and damp.
I keep low, moving left along the wall, the house glowing like a watchtower at my back.
Through the trees, branches snapping underfoot, my heart pounding like I’m already guilty.
By the time I hit the lane, my chest is burning and my hands are shaking. I glance back once—just once—and swear I can feel James watching, even if the cameras no longer are.
Once in my car, I just sit in silence.
Despite everything we’ve just talked about, all I can think about is Guy.
How I thought he was my second chance, my lifeline after Dad died. How I clung to him like he was the only thing keeping me upright. And how he was ripped away in a single violent moment.
I can’t do that again. I can’t lose someone else I care about.
I look at Pete, broken and beautiful and terrified, and the thought hits me hard: I don’t just want to save him because I can’t stand seeing him hurt. I want to save him because I’m falling for him.
Because somewhere, somehow, despite everything, I still believe love might save me too.