Chapter 38 #2
“Lucas…” she whispers. “Tell me it’s not true. Tell me that’s not what you’re doing.”
I don’t say a damn thing.
Because I don’t owe her anything. Not the truth, not reassurance, not an ounce of vulnerability. Whatever I have with Alex… It’s mine. It’s not some shameful thing I need to defend in a trailer home filled with people who wouldn’t know love if it choked them. It’s not transactional. It’s not dirty.
It’s real.
And it has nothing to do with them.
Oliver claps once—slow, deliberate, slicing through the silence like a blade.
“I hate to interrupt this little Hallmark family moment,” he drawls, flicking ash from his cigarette straight onto the trailer floor. “But let’s get back to business, shall we?”
He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, that smug smirk still carved into his face. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel the chill crawl down my spine.
“So far, you’ve managed to cough up $45k,” he says, voice casual like he’s reading from a menu. “In just under three months. Impressive, really.”
His eyes glint as he drags on the cigarette again. “And you’ve got, what—about thirty thousand left? Cute.”
I know there’s more. I can see it in his eyes. He’s setting me up for the real blow.
“But,” he says, flicking his fingers toward one of the guys standing behind us, “we’re starting fresh.”
The man steps forward and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He hands it to Oliver, who smooths it out on his knee with a kind of theatrical calm.
“I’m wiping the slate,” Oliver says with a grin. “Clean. No more tracking what you’ve paid or haven’t paid. That’s the old deal.”
My brows draw in tight. The pit in my stomach sharpens.
“What are you talking about?” my mother snaps, voice tight with confusion. “You can’t just—what do you mean, starting fresh?”
“Easy now, Kathryn,” Oliver says, voice laced with mock affection as he tilts the paper toward us. “This is the new contract. Starting today, you owe me $120,000. Tripled from the original loan.”
I freeze.
“What?” The word barely makes it past my lips, more breath than sound.
“You heard me,” Oliver says smoothly, tapping the paper. “$40k borrowed. Triple repayment. It’s the new deal.”
I stare at the page, but I can’t even read it. The numbers blur in front of me. The corners of my vision darken like the air’s been sucked out of the room.
One hundred and twenty thousand.
He’s rewriting the rules like none of it mattered.
This can’t be happening.
“Why are you looking at me like you wouldn’t be able to pay it, Lucas?” Oliver smirks, his voice slick with mockery. “I’m sure if you keep bending for Alexander, you’ll cough up the money in no time.”
My jaw tenses so hard it clicks. I glare at him, not even bothering to mask the disgust in my eyes.
“You know,” he drawls, leaning forward like he’s sharing a secret, “I actually considered holding you hostage and calling him to come fetch you.”
A wicked grin stretches across his face. “But then I thought… maybe you’re not that important. Maybe he’s got other pretty little toys who keep his bed warm and wouldn’t be bothered if you are gone.”
My stomach twists. I know that’s not true. I know if something happened, Alex would come for me—he would. But I don’t give Oliver the satisfaction of saying that. I keep quiet.
“You’re a piece of shit,” my mother snaps, venom in her voice.
Oliver snorts.
“Oh, Kathryn,” he says, turning that same mocking gaze on her, “look at yourself.”
Then his smile drops.
“Your son was fifteen when four grown boys ruined him. You knew. And what did you do?”
Silence.
“You didn’t take him to the hospital,” he continues, each word sharp and cold. “You didn’t take him to therapy. You didn’t press charges. You let it rot in him.”
He tilts his head like he’s fascinated. “He learned ASL on his own. You gave him nothing.”
My mother says nothing. Her mouth trembles.
He isn’t done.
“You started giving him drugs to sell when he was what—twelve?” he lets out a dark laugh, shaking his head. “You’re worse than me. I never pretended to be a parent.”
“You think I had a choice?” my mother yells, eyes wide with rage, voice shaking. “Do you think any of this was a choice?”
I want them both to shut the fuck up.
I want to tear something apart, scream until my throat burns.
My hands shake. My chest aches. I want to be anywhere but here.
I want to be back at the penthouse, tangled in Alex’s arms, smelling his skin, breathing him in until the world fades.
I want to hear Tyler’s laugh as he drags me through aisles at Walmart or the thrift store.
I want this moment to disappear. I want these other evil memories to stay buried. I want peace.
But instead, I’m here.
And everything I’ve tried to forget is clawing its way back to the surface.
“Sign the paper, Lucas,” Oliver says, his tone turning cold and final as he tosses a pen and a rubber stamp onto the table in front of me.
“I’m tired of talking,” he mutters, leaning back with a smirk, dragging on his cigarette. “I need to go get my dick wet.”
My hand trembles as I reach for the paper, fingers barely steady enough to hold it.
My mother lurches toward me, panic in her voice, but the man behind her grips her tighter.
I hear her crying, those broken sounds I used to hate as a kid.
I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my hands from shaking as my eyes scan the page.
One hundred and twenty thousand.
Due in four months.
The letters blur. The numbers burn into my brain.
I close my eyes, just for a second. To breathe. To pretend I’m anywhere else. That I’m not here. That I’m not paying the price for a life I never asked to be born into. That someone else’s shame didn’t end up in my hands.
“Sign it, Lucas,” Oliver growls. The threat is sharp now, coiled in his voice like something about to snap. “Don’t make me use force.”
My eyelids flutter open. I glance at him — at his face, smug and ugly — and then down at the pen.
Why do I always have to pay for her choices?
I reach for it. My fingers close around the pen, cold and slick with sweat. I brace to sign. I brace to sell my soul again.
And then— I hear it.
The low, unmistakable growl of an engine outside. Deep. Smooth. Powerful.
An Escalade, I know it is because Alex has one, and I very much know the sound of it. I freeze, the pen hovering just above the paper.
Then I hear a second engine pull up beside it.
Oliver’s eyes narrow.
“You expecting someone, boss?” one of the men asks.
Oliver doesn’t answer right away. He looks at me. Look through me.
His brow twitches. Then he lets out a slow, disbelieving dry laugh.
“There’s no way,” he mutters. “No. Fucking. Way.”
My heart is pounding so loudly I can barely hear. My chest rises and falls like I just came up from drowning.
It can’t be.
There is no way that is Alex.
Before I can blink, Oliver pulls out a gun and points it directly at my face. I feel my mother stiffen, and I swallow, my body tensing.
“Go outside,” Oliver says, his voice calm, lethal. “Finish off whoever that is.”
He doesn’t look away from me, and neither do I. My heart is pounding so loud I think it might shake loose from my chest. I hear the heavy steps of the two men moving toward the door, the creak of it swinging open. Then—
Chaos.
Grunts.
Fists slamming into flesh.
One of them screams.
My mother jerks beside me, flinching at the noise. She’s trembling, quietly sobbing, but I don’t move. I don’t even breathe. I can’t afford to.
Oliver’s eyes are locked on mine. His gun still raised, aimed straight at my face.
I hear the door swing open again. I hear painful grunts, like wounded men being dragged inside the trailer, boots thudding against the floor.
Then—
His voice.
“You can point the gun at me now.” It’s low. Controlled and deadly. “We have business together.”
My heart stutters
Alex.
Oliver rises slowly, gun still trained on me. I want to turn, want to look, want to see him. Is he alone? Did he come with more people? But I can’t risk it. I can feel Oliver’s trigger finger twitching.
Then I hear footsteps. Steady. Getting closer to me.
Even before I smell him, I know it’s Alex.
“Don’t move,” Oliver snarls, stepping closer. “You take one more step, and I’ll paint this trailer with his brains.”
I feel him stop moving.
“Do you not understand English?” Alex says, voice filled with anger. “Point the gun at me, motherfucker, and let’s do business.”
Oliver lets out a soft laugh. But there’s tension in his shoulders now, he shifts, then the gun lifts, swinging away from my face and towards the direction of Alex’s voice.
I exhale, sharp and shallow, like I’ve been underwater this whole time.
I feel Alex step in beside me. Close. The heat of him, the gravity of him, it grounds me. I finally dare to lift my head.
And his eyes are already locked on me.
His face is calm, but his eyes are pure steel. The deadly blue fire that I saw the first night I saw him in that alley.
My chest cracks open.
I don’t mean to, but a sound escapes me. A small, broken sob of relief, and his eyes soften for a split second.
Then his eyes move to Oliver, who is stepping closer now.
“If you move,” Oliver warns, his voice tight as his eyes flick to someone behind me, “I’ll shoot your boss dead.”
I whip my head around—Mike is standing behind one of Oliver’s men, gun pressed firmly to the back of the guy’s skull. The man is grunting, struggling to stay upright, blood leaking from his nose. The other one lies motionless on the ground, definitely not getting back up.
But my heart slams against my chest because Oliver still has the gun on Alex.
And Alex… he doesn’t even flinch.
He stands there, calm as ever, head tilted slightly, those hard eyes locked on Oliver like he’s already decided how this ends.
“So,” Alex says coolly, “how much is this debt, exactly?”
Oliver lets out a tight, false chuckle. “Well, well, well… Didn’t realize he meant this much to you. Guess I hit the jackpot.”