27 Nineteen #2
“I’m mad because I pulled away. Because I got scared.”
His eyes flick down to our hands before he reaches out and takes mine, thumb brushing softly over my knuckles.
“I told myself it wasn’t me. That you’d be happier with someone else. And I thought… if you were happy, I’d be fine.”
His voice cracks, barely.
“But from the first day I talked to you, I was hooked. Something about you just… got under my skin.” He laughs once, quietly, almost at himself. “Jace was already spewing all that crap about how you’d ruin us or whatever, but I still couldn’t get you off my mind.”
The confession settles heavily between us.
“But you scared me,” he continues, softer now. “The rejection. The possibility that I wasn't enough. So, I took the coward’s way out and pushed you toward them.”
My heart stutters. I stare down at our joined hands, breath catching.
The last month flashes through my mind—the nights I fell asleep on him, the quiet moments, the way he kept showing up when I was unraveling.
Was it comfort?
Or something more?
“Luca…” I start, but he brings a finger to my lips.
“You don’t have to say anything. I’m not expecting anything.” His eyes soften. “You asked why I was angry with myself. That’s the truth.”
He squeezes my hand, gentle but sure.
“Jace hurt you. And part of me will never forgive myself for letting that happen. I would never hurt you the way he did. I would never leave you. Or betray you.” He pauses, taking a breath.
“And I know it’ll take time. I know you’re still figuring things out. Just… know that I’m here. I’m the guy who’ll hold you when you can’t sleep, distract you when you need it, annoy you on purpose, and—”
“And sneak in midnight cupcakes?”
My smile wobbles, watery but real.
Luca grins. “Exactly.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For being here. For understanding. For not pushing.”
“I’ve got you,” he says simply. “Always.”
And then—like a switch flipped—the solemnity melts away, replaced by his usual mischievousness.
“So…” he drawls. “What do you want to do now? Movie? Snacks? Make out?”
He wiggles his brows shamelessly.
I shove his shoulder lightly. “Oh my gosh.”
“That’s why you love me.”
There’s a hard knock at my door.
“Gracie?” Lucian’s voice comes through.
“Come in.”
My door opens and Lucian enters with Maeve, Noah, a security guard dragging a man dressed in all black.
“What’s going on?” I look at the serious expressions on their faces. “Who’s this?”
“Security caught him trying to scale up to your room.” Noah turns and shows me a surveillance video.
“He had this.” Maeve holds out a small wrapped black box with a big red bow.
“Why were you breaking into her room?” Luca steps forward, his voice is low.
“I was paid to deliver this to the girl.” The guy whimpers.
“Who’s it from?” Lucian asks.
“I don’t know! I just got called to pick it up.”
Lucian nods and the guard takes the guy out of the room.
“I’ve already scanned it for explosives or any frequencies. Came back clear.” Noah says.
“There’s a card.” Luca plucks it from under the bow.
He turns it open, sliding his finger under one side and sliding it across, tearing it open.
He pulls out the simple black card that has “Happy Birthday” printed across the front. He turns the card over and we both freeze.
Isobel,
Thought I'd get you something special on your birthday.
Enjoy!
Dakota
“What the fuck?” Luca breathes.
I take the card and it gets passed around.
“What's in the box?” Noah asks what we're all dreading.
“I guess there's only one way to find out.” I reach for the box, setting it on the table.
“I don't like this,” Maeve whispers.
“Neither do I.”
I pull on the red ribbon, unraveling the bow as the knot in my chest tightens.
I lift up the cover of the box and stare.
“What is it?” Maeve's voice trembles from beside me.
I reach inside slowly, picking up the stack of pictures.
The first picture is of my mom, handcuffed to some wrought-iron bed frame I don't recognize. She looks terrible. Her hair is a tangled mess. There are dark circles under her eyes, and she's so thin.
I look at the next picture, a picture of me from Gideon's basement. The way I'm lying on the floor, unconscious. Exposed.
Next, a picture of Dakota in a lingerie set on a bed, posing.
Another of Dakota, with Daniel.
The bile rises in the back of my throat.
In the last picture, Dakota is pressing a blade into my skin.
I gasp as the memories come flooding back, the pictures dropping from my hands.
Dakota stands in front of me, arms crossed, her sleek braid swinging as she tilts her head.
“They really haven't done much to you.” Her voice cuts through the haze like a blade. “Good thing it's my turn.”
“Hey, no one's trying to step on your fun, sweetheart.” Butch raises his hands in mock surrender.
“Then get out.” Dakota's tone snaps like a whip. “Unless you want to explain to Gideon why his favorite little weapon suddenly went rogue.”
Dakota pulls a knife from the holster at her thigh and holds it out.
Butch backs away and mutters under his breath. “Psycho bitch.”
“I heard that,” Dakota calls out without looking back.
The metal door shuts.
“Aw, look at poor Isobel, all pathetic and alone.” Her voice almost sings with glee.
“Go to hell.” I rasp.
“We're already there, sweetie.” Her smile is dark.
Dakota takes her knife and drags the edge lightly along my arm.
“You know, Daniel taught me about anatomy.
Where to cut to send a message. Where to cut so someone bleeds out fast. Where to cut so they don't.” She twirls the blade in her hand, watching it glint in the light.
“So I learned how to take people apart. Inch by inch.”
I clench my jaw as steel kisses skin, not deep enough to wound yet, but enough to make my body coil in dread. My wrists strain against the tight restraints.
Then, without warning, she moves.
Pain flares down my ribs. I bite on my lip hard enough to taste blood. I refuse to cry out and give her the satisfaction.
Another cut, lower this time, just above my hip.
“You know what I think, Isobel?” Dakota's voice as she leans in. “I think you've done this before. You grew up in pain, didn't you? Maybe you love it.”
I don't respond. I can't. My mind is somewhere else.
Somewhere cold and distant. While my mother looked the other way, while Daniel's fists came down on me like a storm I had to weather. A quiet room in my head where I counted seconds between hits. If I stayed there long enough. Nothing touched me.
Dakota continues. Her cuts are clean, controlled, and designed to hurt.
“Daniel told me you would retreat.” Her breath is warm and vile against my ear. “He told me how to spot it. I wonder if there's a way to get you out of there.”
She stands suddenly, walking over to grab a bottle off a table that seemingly apparated.
How did I not notice that?
A clear glass bottle, with liquid sloshing inside. As she gets closer, I smell it.
Alcohol.
Dakota smiles and uncorks it. “Let's see how retreating goes for you.”
Then she pours it over me. I scream.
The pain isn't even pain, it’s fire under my skin. An eruption of agony that sears through my nerves like lightning. My body arches and thrashes, trying to get away from the burning. But there is no getting away.
Dakota steps back, watching with clinical detachment.
The pain continues to rip through me, my lungs heaving in raw, broken gasps. The trembling starts, and there's nothing I can do to hide it. My body feels like it's been turned inside out—nerves shredded, muscles locked in a panic.
“There really is beauty in pain.” Dakota hums. Then starts all over again.
I snap back into my body and run to the toilet, throwing up everything in my stomach.
“Isobel!” Luca and Maeve rush in after me.
I feel trembling fingers pulling my hair away from my face as I empty my stomach.
Finally, I sit back on the cool marble. Maeve wipes my forehead with a washcloth. Luca hands me another and I wipe my mouth.
“What happened?” Maeve sits next to me.
“I'll get you some water,” Luca says before walking out of the bathroom.
“The pictures.” I shake my head, pressing the heel of my palms to my eyes. “There was something my mind blocked out, but somehow Dakota knew, and the picture brought it all back.” I wish I could forget. The pain of it all makes my skin tingle.
Luca returns with a glass of water. I take it, taking a few sips.
“She showed me a photo of my mom, then of her and Daniel together.” I gag again.
“Ew, what the fuck.” Maeve's face pinches.
“She moved on fast.” Luca mumbles. “That's fucking gross,” Luca adds, his own nose scrunching.
I reach for Luca, and he takes my hand, helping me off the floor. I move over to my sink to wash out the vile taste in my mouth.
Noah and my dad walk in, holding the photos.
“So, she's fucking Daniel now?” Noah says, looking around at us.
“Don’t,” I say before continuing to scrub vigorously at my tongue.
“I just don't get it. What's the point of this?” Luca takes the pictures from Noah, shuffling through them.
“Daniel’s fucking with me. He knows I’m worried about my mom. He's trying to taunt me with Dakota. Then he reminded me of how Dakota inflicted pain on me.” I gargle with some mouthwash.
“He can't hurt you, so he's trying everything he can to hurt you in other ways,” Lucian says.
“Well, fuck that.” I spit. “I'm getting back to training ASAP and we're taking these fuckers down. I'm sick of them messing with my life. Gideon, Dakota, and Daniel. They all need to get fucked.” The rage simmers in my veins.
“I second that,” Maeve says cheerily.
“Then that's what we'll do.” Lucian nods approvingly, “We'll get you back to fighting shape and we'll take them all down.”