Chapter 33 #2
Bryce, Liam, and Connor.
All sitting in the front row, right behind the partition.
Bryce has a metal contraption strapped across his jaw, locking his mouth in place.
Connor has a bandage across his cheekbone, barely clinging to skin that’s not even bleeding.
Liam’s got his arm in a sling, but he’s still using it to scroll on his phone.
It’s a goddamn courtroom performance written and staged to twist the truth into something else.
I shift my eyes back to the man orchestrating it all.
Bryce’s father adjusts his tie, calm as ever, as he leans in close and says something to his son. Then there’s a smug smile that curves across the man’s face, the kind of expression you want to slap off with a crowbar.
Rainer shifts beside me.
“It’s stacked against him,” he mutters. “Poor kid never had a chance. You don’t win against assholes like that. Not when their daddies can buy the ending.”
Cassie’s fingers slip into mine before the words have even finished hanging in the air.
She grips my hand tight. I feel her shaking, but I don’t glance at her.
I can’t. All I can see is Zane.
Sitting there, cuffed and silent, while they script his future from across the aisle.
Someone in the courtroom tells us to stand as the judge enters the room, but it barely registers—another command echoing through the fog in my head.
Everything blurs around the edges.
I feel Cassie’s hands grip my arms, pulling me to my feet. My legs don’t want to move, but somehow, now I’m standing.
Then we are sitting again.
The bailiff reads something official, and the charges hit.
Assault.
Battery.
Intent to cause harm.
Each word lands hard. One blow after another.
They read them out like a grocery list. Stripped of the truth.
Each charge is another chain they wrap around Zane’s neck. Another stone added to the pile they’re building on his chest.
They say intent to cause harm.
But no one mentions the hands that grabbed me. No one mentions the fear that froze me in place.
They say assault, but they’re only talking about the bruises on them. Not the ones that landed on me.
Bryce’s father stands.
And now the real show begins.
He steps into the space in front of the table with the calm swagger of a man who’s never lost a fight he couldn’t buy his way out of.
His voice is smooth, slick with charm. Every word is rehearsed. Every sentence lands with precision. He doesn’t give anyone the chance to question his version of the truth.
He starts by naming Zane.
He calls him aggressive.
Lets it hang in the air long enough to stain.
He calls him unstable.
Says the kid has issues, a history, a reputation that speaks for itself. That he’s dangerous to those around him, that he cannot be trusted to walk free.
Then come the buzzwords.
Violent tendencies.
Criminal past.
Uncontrolled rage.
He tells them that Zane fights underground, part of an illegal circuit, using his fists for money.
He paints a picture of a boy born broken. Says he lashes out. Says he doesn’t know how to control himself.
He says it proves everything they need to know.
He never mentions me or what Bryce and the others were doing. He strips me out of the story entirely because my existence ruins his version of events.
And I sit here, teeth clenched, fists white-knuckled in my lap, watching the court nod along.
Everything around me slips into a haze that keeps pulling further away.
Voices blur.
Movement blurs.
Nothing touches me.
I don’t register the questions. I miss the muttered comments. It all fades beneath the weight pressing in behind my eyes and the ringing in my ears that won’t let up.
Rainer told me yesterday. He sat me down with the unwavering gaze in his eyes and told me the truth like he couldn’t bear to dress it up.
There is no way out for him.
Not with Bryan Anders pulling the strings.
Not with his money or his connections.
He said Anders has too many people in his pocket, too many judges and officers who owe him favors.
He told me the best we could hope for was a reduced sentence.
That the lawyer he found—the one Rainer paid for with his life savings—might be able to keep Zane from being swallowed whole.
That was the win in all of this. We’re aiming for less time rather than no time at all.
He told me the night after Zane was arrested that I could stay in the apartment for as long as I need to. Said Zane would want that and so did he.
The gavel hits wood, and the crack of it snaps through the courtroom like a gunshot, causing me to jump, breath catching in my throat, fingers clutching the edge of the bench.
A pause.
Then the words: “Guilty on all counts.”
It hits like a blow to the chest.
Cassie gasps beside me. Her hand flies to her mouth, but it’s too late.
Rainer mutters something under his breath, a curse carved from disbelief and fury. His fist slams once against his knee, jaw clenched so tight it might snap.
The asshole, Bryan Anders, smirks, all fake teeth and bullshit lies.
The judge speaks, voice steady, almost emotionless. Legal terms. Formal phrasing that turns what happened into a procedure.
But then I hear it.
“Seven years.”
The words hang in the air. Heavy. Final.
“Seven years,” repeats the judge, like the first time wasn’t enough to crush whatever was left standing inside me.
Seven fucking years.
Seven years for saving me.
I can’t breathe.
The air’s thick and sharp, clawing at my throat.
My chest aches, not from the pain, but from the emptiness suddenly sitting there.
The officer steps forward and grabs Zane’s arm.
Zane doesn’t fight.
He doesn’t look at us, just lets them lead him away, his silence louder than anything in this room.
I want to throw myself forward and wrap my arms around him, grab his face in my hands and force him to look at me.
I want him to see that I’m still here. That I’m not leaving. That I’ll fucking wait, however long it takes.
But my legs won’t move.
My body won’t listen.
My hands grip the edge of the bench, knuckles white, nails digging into wood, trying to hold on to something before I completely fall apart.
Because this isn’t fucking justice.
This is punishment for loving someone the world decided wasn’t worth saving.
Then he’s gone.
The door swings shut behind him with a dull thud, and that sound settles in my chest heavier than any sentence ever could.
The courtroom clears out, row by row. Spectators rise, having witnessed a performance. They got their resolution. Now, their hushed conversations dissipate, their footsteps reverberate, fading into silence.
It’s just me, Rainer, and Cassie left sitting in the middle of it all.
Cassie remains silent.
Rainer leans forward, elbows on his knees, head down.
And I’m still frozen in place.
For the first time since Zane found me outside that library, I have no idea of what comes next.
I’m sitting in the visiting room of the prison, and everything about it makes my skin crawl.
The overhead lights buzz constantly, too bright, too white, casting shadows under the eyes of every person waiting here.
The tables and chairs are bolted to the floor, arranged in straight lines. Each one is waiting for some version of heartbreak.
I sit at one of them, hands folded in my lap, heart pounding so loud it’s all I can hear.
Other people wait too. Mothers with tired eyes, girlfriends with fresh makeup, kids shifting in their seats, not fully understanding what this place is. It’s not a place built for comfort.
I don’t know how Zane breathes in here.
It’s been a week.
Seven long, dragging days since Zane was sentenced. Since they told me the next chapter of our lives would be written behind these bars.
This is the first time he has been allowed to have visitors. And only one person can come.
Rainer told me to go. Said he’d see Zane in a few days, that this one needed to be mine.
I’m not sure I believe that.
Not after the way he wouldn’t meet my gaze at the courthouse.
So now I’m here. Positioned at one of the cheap-ass tables. Elbows on the surface. Heart in my throat.
Waiting for him.
And praying to every fucking thing out there that he’s still him when he walks through that door.
My knee bounces beneath the table.
I try to stop it but fail.
Every second stretches like a wire pulled too tight.
The door at the far end sounds with a loud metal click that draws everyone’s eyes.
There’s a pause, a thick stretch of silence, and then the inmates file in one by one.
The visitors around me shift.
Two kids sitting at the table closest to the wall gasp when they spot their father—both jump as they want to run to him, but stay locked in place.
The rules are clear here. No one moves until the guards give the order.
A woman at the end of the row clutches her toddler in her lap, pressing kisses to the top of his head while tears slip down her cheeks. She wipes them away quickly and puts on a smile.
It’s a quiet heartbreak in here. The kind no one talks about but everyone wears in their eyes.
I watch it all, heart kicking inside my ribs, but my eyes never leave the doorway.
And before long, I see him.
Zane.
The jumpsuit looks wrong on him.
He doesn’t belong in it.
There’s a fresh cut on his right cheek, skin swollen around the edge, already healing into something that’ll scar—signs of a fight, or perhaps a struggle for survival.
He enters silently, saying nothing. He avoids everyone’s gaze, including mine.
His eyes stay low as he walks forward. He lowers himself into the seat opposite me. Spine straight. Shoulders set. But nothing about him feels steady.
He doesn’t speak.
The boy who once pulled me into his arms, who held my face in his hands and kissed me with the desperation that made it hard to breathe, who whispered he loved me, won’t even lift his eyes to meet mine.
I feel my heart tear in half.
All the hope I carried into this room, all the weight I held onto, is gone.
But I’m still here.
I came, I waited for him. In fact, I haven’t stopped waiting. Every second of every day since they took him.
And now he sits across from me, empty and distant, a wall where there used to be warmth.
They didn’t just take his freedom. They took us too. Everything we were was taken away the second they closed that cell door behind him.
“I thought you’d at least… I don’t know, say hi.”
My voice wavers and I hate how small it sounds.
Zane’s gaze finally shifts.
It brushes over my face for half a second, but it’s enough to make my breath hitch. But it isn’t the look I need. It isn’t soft or the boy I remember. It’s cold. Detached.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he says.
The words land hard, cutting deeper than I’m ready for. I try to keep my chin up, even as the crack opens wider in my chest.
“Well, I am,” I snap, swallowing the sting.
He leans back, arms folded across his chest. His stare sharpens, all steel and silence. Every inch of him is locked down, closed off.
But I press on, because I didn’t come here to sit in silence.
“Cassie’s okay,” I say, voice thinner now. “Still shaken, but she’s alright. She wanted to come, but they only allow one person to see you. She blames herself, you know. Keeps saying she should’ve called the cops first. That maybe then—”
Nothing.
Not a twitch.
He sits still, as if he is frozen in place.
“Rainer’s working on something,” I try again, clutching at words, hoping one of them will reach him. “I mean, he’s busy in the workshop. He got rid of Mason—”
“Skylar.”
His voice sounds over mine.
“Stop.”
It’s one word, but it shuts everything down.
And all I can do is sit here, heart bleeding out across the table, wondering if the boy I love is still somewhere inside the man in front of me.
I blink, the words catching in my throat before I can find the next breath.
“I thought you’d want to hear—”
“I don’t.”
He says it without hesitation.
I stare at him. “I’m just trying to keep you in the loop.”
“There’s no loop to keep me in,” he says, voice steady. “I’m in here. You’re out there. That’s how it is now.”
My throat tightens until it’s hard to swallow. “I don’t want it to be.”
“Yeah, well, no one gets what they want, do they?”
I bite down hard, willing the tears to stay where they are.
“You can’t shut me out.”
“I’m not shutting you out.” His voice dips, quiet at first. There’s a softness in it, just for a second, enough to give me hope, but then it hardens. “I’m setting you free.”
“I don’t want to be free of you.”
“Then you’re fucking stupid.”
Zane leans forward, elbows on the table, shoulders tight. His eyes lock onto mine and don’t waver.
“You think I want you coming in here every week?” he spits. “Being here, wasting your life on someone who’s already been written off? I’m a fucking inmate now, Sky. A number. A mistake someone’s already boxed up and filed away.”
His voice cracks, just enough to bleed.
“And you—” He cuts off, jaw clenched so tight his neck strains with the pressure. He shakes his head, breathing hard through his nose. “You’re not meant for this shit, Sky.”
My hands tremble under the table, but I keep my voice steady. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”
“I already did.”
I reach across the table, desperate to close the space between us, but he jerks back as if my touch might poison him.
“Zane, please don’t do this.”
“I don’t want you here.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
The words hit bone.
Tears press against the back of my eyes, stinging, but I refuse to let them fall.
I shake my head, heart cracking open in my chest.
“You said you loved me.”
His mouth tightens, the muscle in his jaw ticking. His fists curl on the table, tight enough that his knuckles go white.
“That night,” I whisper, “you said it to me and you meant it.”
He leans forward. “I lied. I said it so I could fuck you. Get it through your fucking head that I don’t love you,” he snaps. “I never have. You were just a fuck. That’s all. Easy pussy.”
My whole body goes still, every part of me frozen in place.
My ears ring. My skin burns.
He stands and turns his back, as if I’m invisible, and heads toward the guard stationed by the door—the same one he walked through moments before.
I sit there, stunned, watching the boy I love walk away with pieces of me still in his hands, knowing that there’s nothing left to hold on to.