Chapter 6 #2
She swings the camera toward the two guys beside her, some nameless assholes with too-white smiles and shirts unbuttoned to the middle of their chests.
They raise their glasses and shout something I can’t hear, voices lost in the crush of noise and flashing light.
One of them slings an arm around her shoulders. Too familiar. Too easy.
Then she turns back to the camera and blows a kiss at the lens before the screen goes black.
I sit there frozen, knuckles whitening around my phone.
What in the ever-loving fuck is she doing?
I toss some cash on the table and stand up so fast my chair scuffs loudly against the floor. I’m already calling her number as I push out into the cold London night air. She doesn’t answer, and I’m halfway down the street when another notification pings across my screen.
lily_davis posted a new photo.
I swipe it open and feel like someone has punched through my goddamn chest, my heart clenched in their fist as I take in the blurry photo.
The asshole in the black T-shirt has his hand twisted in her hair, holding her close.
Lily’s fingers are curled around his jaw, their mouths far too fucking close.
The world goes hazy around the edges in an instant as a tsunami of emotions brings me to a standstill, breathing hard.
A couple passing by gives me a weird look but I don’t give a shit.
She has no fucking idea what she’s playing with.
No idea what kind of people might be watching her account or what kind of rumours this photo will start.
And yeah, maybe that’s not the only reason my hands are trembling.
I’m dialling her number again before I even know I’ve decided to. This time, she picks up on the third ring.
“Mattttttyyy,” she slurs. “Where’d you goooo?”
“Where the fuck are you?” I snap. “Right now.”
She giggles, breathy and sweet, and for a second my frustration with her fades. “Out. Having fun. You should come.”
“Lil’, listen to me. Send me your location. Now.”
There’s a rustling noise, someone laughing in the background, she sounds muffled, like she’s covering the phone.
“Don’t be mad. He’s nice. I’m not even drunk. Well, kinda. Are you mad? Please don’t be. I’m safe, I’m fine. I’m having fun!”
“Lily—” I clench my teeth so hard I taste blood. “Send me your location, or I swear to God I’ll tear apart every club in this city until I find you.”
She sighs like I’m exhausting. “Fiiiiiine.”
A second later, my phone pings with her location, and I’m already moving like my life depends on tracking her down.
When I find her, she’s in a corner booth at some trendy bar in the heart of London, half asleep against the same guy from that photo, the one who doesn’t deserve to even look at her, let alone touch her.
He’s stroking her hair like he owns her.
Like he has any right. I swallow hard, the anger twisting in my gut into something fierce and desperate. Not on my watch.
I cross the space between us without hesitation. My hand tightens on his shirt before I even realise I’m moving, pushing between him and my stepsister like a shield she didn’t ask for but damn well needs.
“Get the fuck away from her,” I growl, voice rough with everything I’m holding back.
“If you even think about touching Lily again, I swear, I will find you. And when I do, I’m going to tear you apart, starting with every goddamn part of you that’s touched her.
You don’t deserve to breathe the same air she breathes. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”
He stumbles back, eyes wide and confused. “Yo, man, chill—”
“Now.” My voice leaves no room for argument.
He takes one look at me—at the fire burning behind my eyes—and bolts.
Lily blinks up at me, her eyes smeared with mascara, glassy and unfocused. She looks like she’s been pulled under by everything I can’t fix.
“Matty. You came.”
Her voice cracks. It should make me feel better, but it only digs a knife deeper in my chest. Because what the hell am I supposed to say?
That I’m terrified? That I’m furious? That I want to rip him apart for touching her like that?
That I want to protect her from the whole goddamn world, even when she pushes me away?
“Yeah,” I sigh, trying to keep it steady. “Congratulations, you gave me a fucking heart attack tonight, let’s go.”
She pouts like a kid who’s just been caught doing something wrong. “You didn’t have to come.”
I hate that she thinks she can handle this alone. Hate that she feels she has to. “Come on, you’re wasted. We’re leaving.”
Her shoulders slump, like she’s giving up on fighting me tonight. “I don’t wanna go. I was having fun.”
That word—fun—and what it implies tastes like ash in my mouth. My jaw twitches, a silent warning.
“Not anymore.”
I grab her arm and help her up. She sways into me, perfume thick and suffocating, and I hate how much it pulls me in. How much I want to hold her close and never let go, even though I know she can never be mine. Not in the way either of us wants.
“Matt…” she whispers, fragile and scared. “Don’t be mad.”
I don’t answer. How can I? How can I be anything but mad? Mad at the guy, mad at the situation, mad at myself for feeling so goddamn helpless. Instead, I just steer her through the crowd, ignoring the way every eye is on us.
When we hit the cool night air, it hits me like a slap. Lily shivers and stumbles, unsteady in her heels.
I shrug off my jacket, draping it over her shoulders. She clutches the fabric, burying her face in it like she’s trying to breathe me in. Like she’s searching for something steady in the chaos.
“Matty,” she mumbles, voice barely audible. “He said I was pretty.”
That breaks something inside me. I should be the one telling her that. Should be the one making her feel like she’s the only one who matters, but I can’t, and it fucking kills me.
“You don’t need some random asshole to tell you that.”
She lifts her head, eyes glossy and full of something raw and aching. “But you never say it.”
I want to tell her it’s not true. I want to tell her all the things I never said out loud. But the words stick like stones in my throat.
“That’s not true,” I manage after a long moment, catching her wrist as she reaches up to touch my face. Not to stop her, but to feel her skin against mine because, apparently, I’m a fucking masochist.
“I missed you.” Her words come out so low I don’t think she intends me to hear them, but I do. And suddenly everything inside me twists—a mess of guilt, longing, and the stupid, stupid way I want her to be mine.
“Let’s go home.”
“Your place?”
“No, Da’s.”
Her body stiffens, the fight returning in her voice. “I don’t wanna go there.”
“I don’t make the rules, Lil’. Not about this. You know that.”
My voice is low, careful. I pull her in close, tucking her beneath my arm like it’s nothing, like it’s muscle memory, not a need that drives me to the brink of insanity. She fits against me like she belongs there and that’s the goddamn kicker.
How can she be so perfect for me and yet not allowed to be mine? What kind of cruel twist of fate is that?
I guide her toward the car, forcing my steps to stay steady, pretending I don’t feel the way her body leans into mine—light, exhausted, and impossibly warm.
When we reach the passenger side, I open the door for her, helping her in. And if my hand lingers a moment too long on her shoulder—fingers brushing bare skin, heat pulsing through that fragile point of contact—well… that’s between us.
She’s silent all the way across town. Makeup smudged, eyes distant and glassy. Lips bruised, raw from that asshole’s mouth. My knuckles ache from gripping the wheel so tight I’m afraid I might break something.
Her laugh echoes in my mind—soft, light, completely out of place. I see her pressed against that guy, her name probably still a mystery to him. I want to tear him apart for it. I want to protect her from everything, even if she doesn’t want me to.
By the time we pull up to Da’s place, it’s well past midnight. I half-carry her through the front door, hoping Da’s already passed out. Her heels click against the marble floor, scuffing the floor once I set her down. My hands stay on her shoulders, steadying her, keeping her anchored.
She drags a foot, voice barely a whisper. “I hate it here.”
“I know.”
She looks away, voice dropping lower. “I hate her. She called me a whore today.”
The words hit me like a punch and a muscle twitches in my jaw. I want to shout, to fight back, but I stay quiet. I can’t fix this, not yet. Not like this. I need a little more time to work things out, so instead, I do what I can, and guide her upstairs.
At the top, she clutches my arm, her voice small. “Stay. Just for a little while.”
I shake my head, hating that I can’t give her what she wants, what she needs. But the risk of getting caught… of doing something we’ll end up regretting is too high to ignore.
“Not this time.”
She looks at me like I’ve just broken her. Like I just took something from her. But I don’t have anything left to give. Not tonight, not after that goddamn photo. I’m hanging on by a thread as it is.
I nudge her into her room, leading her to the edge of her bed.
“Drink this.” I hand her a bottle of water from her bedside table. “And lock your door behind me. I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay?”
She mumbles something I don’t catch, her eyes fluttering closed. I give her one last long look before I turn, closing the door gently behind me, and stand there a moment, forehead pressed against the wood.
It’s not until I hear her shuffle closer, twisting the lock, that I drag myself away.
By the time I stumble through my front door, it’s nearly three in the morning.
The city’s gone quiet, but I’m still thrumming with adrenaline, nerves pulled taut beneath skin that still feels like it’s burning.
Every muscle aches with something I can’t name—rage maybe, or guilt.
Or that goddamn hunger I never manage to kill.