Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
O ne week later
Kiera
“If you don’t call him, I will.”
Leena folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the counter, her green eyes fixed on me like a hawk zeroing in on prey. Her usual warmth was absent, replaced with a quiet, determined intensity that made my stomach churn.
I stared at her, my mind racing, but all I could think about was how her older brother Ronan would react. Calling him felt like detonating a bomb. There was no telling what would happen afterward, except that it would be big, messy, and probably bad.
Like really bad.
“I’ll figure it out—there’s no need to drag your brother into this, Leena,” I said, finally managing to force the words out. My voice sounded weaker than I wanted, shaky with all the arguments I couldn’t quite put together.
Leena raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You’ll figure it out?” she echoed, her voice calm, but edged with disbelief. “Kiera, you told off Marco Benedetti. In public. In front of witnesses. And then you tossed your drink in his face! Do you know what that means?”
I grimaced. “I mean… I didn’t know who he was at the time. He was just being an asshole, and I?—”
“And you called him out for it. Loudly. At a club where everyone knows everyone. And now you’re surprised that he’s making your life hell?” she broke in, her tone more cutting now.
“I didn’t think he’d… I don’t know, call the dean or whatever he did!” I snapped, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “It’s not like I keyed his car or anything. I just told him to stop groping every girl within a ten-foot radius like he was handing out free samples. And maybe threw my drink in his face too.”
“And I don’t disagree with you,” Leena said, her voice softening just slightly. “But guys like Benedetti don’t care about being wrong. They care about power. And now he’s decided to make you his target to prove a point.”
I groaned, pressing my hands to my face. “This is such bullshit.”
“Yeah, it is,” she agreed, “but it’s also dangerous bullshit. Which is why you need to call Ronan.”
“No,” I said immediately, dropping my hands. “Absolutely not. He doesn’t need to know about this.”
Leena tilted her head, giving me a look that was both skeptical and mildly amused. “And how exactly do you plan to deal with Marco Benedetti without him? Bake him cookies? Write him a strongly worded letter? Buy a gun and off him yourself?”
“I’ll—I don’t know, I’ll think of something. Maybe I can talk to the dean. Or, or hire a lawyer or?—”
“Kiera,” she interrupted, her voice firm again. “Stop. You know this isn’t something you can handle on your own. Not when it involves someone like Benedetti. You think he’s going to play fair? You think this is just about your scholarship?” She leaned in slightly, her tone dropping. “Guys like him don’t stop at making your life inconvenient. He’s going to keep pushing until you break—or until someone makes him back off.”
Her words sent a chill down my spine. I knew she was right, but admitting it felt like surrendering to something much bigger than me. Calling Ronan was like opening Pandora’s Box. Once he knew about this, there would be no going back. He’d handle it, sure—but who knows what he would demand of me in return.
“He’s not going to help me out of the kindness of his heart, Leena,” I said quietly, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to steady it. “You know that. If I ask him for help, it’s going to come with strings. A whole lot of strings…”
Leena didn’t deny it. She just studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable.
“He does care about you, you know,” she said finally, her tone softer.
“Yeah, well, maybe you’re more optimistic about your brother than I am,” I muttered. “He’s different now, Leena. And not in a good way.”
“I know he’s different,” she said quietly. “He had to be. After Dad died, he didn’t have a choice. But that doesn’t mean he’s lost every piece of himself.” She paused, then sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I’m not saying this is going to be easy. Or fun. But you don’t have any better options, Kiera.”
I swallowed hard, glancing down at the scuffed wood floor of our apartment. Leena’s words echoed in my head, a challenge and a threat wrapped up in one simple sentence.
“I’ll call him,” I mumbled finally, shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. “Later.”
Leena’s sharp intake of breath was all the warning I got before she pushed off the counter and stepped into my space.
“No. Not later, Kiera. Now.” She crossed her arms, her green eyes narrowing as she pinned me with a look that was both annoyed and deeply worried. “You’re not stalling your way out of this.”
“I’m not stalling,” I shot back defensively. “I just need time to… think about how to say it, that’s all.”
“You’ve had time to think,” she said, her voice softening only slightly. “You’ve been sitting on this for days, and now Benedetti’s made it clear he’s not messing around. Do you really think this guy is going to stop with a couple of calls to the administration?”
I winced, her words hitting too close to the truth. She wasn’t wrong, and we both knew it.
“I don’t want to call Ronan. I’d rather call pretty much anyone else,” I hedged, though my stomach twisted even as I said it.
Leena’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, I thought she might let it go. But then she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to firm whisper. “If you don’t call him by the end of the day,” she said, her words slow and deliberate, “I swear to God, Kiera, I’ll call him myself.”
I froze, my chest tightening as I met her gaze. There was no hesitation in her eyes, no trace of a bluff. Leena had known me since freshman year—long enough to know when I was digging my heels in out of sheer stubbornness. And I’d known her long enough to know when she wasn’t kidding around.
“You wouldn’t,” I said, my voice shaking just slightly.
She arched a brow. “Try me.”
I opened my mouth to argue, to come up with some excuse, but nothing came out. Instead, I sank down onto the edge of the couch and pressed my hands to my temples.
“Jesus, Leena,” I mumbled. “If I call him, it’s going to make everything worse.”
Leena softened slightly, perching on the arm of the couch next to me. “Different doesn’t mean bad, Kiera,” she said gently. “I know he’s… intense. But he’s good at handling people like Benedetti. Scarily good.”
“Exactly,” I said, lifting my head to look at her. “Scary. Do you hear yourself? You’re asking me to call someone who might bulldoze his way through the situation just because it’s convenient. And you know it’s not just that. You know how he feels about me, Leena.”
Leena sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I know. And I know you’re scared it’s going to get complicated. But he’s not going to use this as an excuse to…” She trailed off, waving her hand vaguely. “I don’t know. Trap you, or whatever you’re thinking. He’s not like that. Not with you.”
I shook my head. “You can’t know that for sure.”
Her lips pressed together, and for a moment, she looked as conflicted as I felt.
“Maybe not,” she admitted. “But I do know that if you don’t ask him for help, you’re going to regret it. You can’t take on Benedetti alone, Kiera.”
I hated that she was right. I hated that she was forcing me to admit it. And most of all, I hated the sinking feeling in my chest that told me this was a battle I couldn’t win on my own.
“Fine,” I said at last, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll call him.”
Leena’s shoulders relaxed just slightly, but she didn’t smile. She wasn’t gloating; this wasn’t a victory for her.
“You’ll call him tonight?” she pressed.
“Yes,” I muttered, standing up and grabbing my phone from the coffee table. “Tonight. I promise.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Good. And Kiera?”
I turned to look at her.
“Don’t try to sugarcoat it,” she said, her voice firm again. “Just tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out anyway, and it’ll be better if it comes from you.”
I nodded, my throat tight, and made my way toward my room. As I shut the door behind me, I stared down at my phone and scrolled through my contacts to Ronan’s name. My finger hovered over it for a moment, my stomach twisting.
Later , I told myself, shoving the phone onto my desk. I’d call him later.
After I figured out how to ask for his help without getting dragged into something far worse.