15. Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
MICAH PRESCOTT
The room is still mostly dark when I wake up. Heather is curled into me, her body warm and soft against my side, one of her hands tucked between us. For a second, I don’t move. I just breathe her in, letting it trick me into thinking that things are normal. Even when they’re far as fuck from it.
A soft knock at the door pulls me out of the moment. My eyes open fully, the remnants of sleep burning off almost instantly. Heather shifts a little when I move, her brow pinching for a second before she settles again, still asleep. I slowly ease my arm out from under her, trying not to wake her.
Another knock. Just as soft.
“Coming,” I murmur under my breath, even though I know whoever it is can’t hear me. I slide out of bed and cross the room, pulling the door open just enough to see through the crack.
Adriana stands on the other side, looking more put together than I expected this early.
“Hey,” I whisper, keeping my voice low. “You okay?”
She nods quickly. “Yeah. I just—” She glances past me, like she’s checking that Heather is still asleep. “I need you for a minute.”
I study her for a second longer, trying to read what she’s not saying. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain,” she says quietly. “Just…can you grab your phone?”
My brows pull together, but I nod anyway. “Yeah. Give me a sec”
I step back into the room, swiping my phone off the nightstand.
Heather's hand brushes over the spot where I was just lying, like she’s searching for me even in her sleep.
I smile at that. “I’ll be right back, babe,” I whisper, even though she’s too out of it to remember.
Then I slip out, closing the door softly behind me.
Adriana is already moving down the hallway. I follow her toward the stairs without another question. Whatever this is, she’s sure about it. There’s no hesitation or even second-guessing what’s going on in her head. That alone puts me on edge.
Right as we step onto the back porch, our feet crunching in fresh snow, she turns to me. “Do you remember the first night he shot up?” she asks.
Taken aback, I nod. “Yeah, why?”
She shrugs. “I knew then that his life would be a tragic story.”
I stare at her. She looks like she’s searching for words. His true downfall didn’t start until after the drugs consumed him, and then she robbed him of the remaining light in his eyes soon after.
Her gaze meets mine. “I need you to do something for me.”
I squint, the sun’s rays just beginning to peek over the treetops. “What’s going on, Adriana?”
She clears her throat. “Give me your phone. Please.”
***
When I go back inside, my mind is fucking spinning. I feel sick. But I breathe through it, deciding to head toward the basement instead of back to bed. I wouldn’t be able to sleep again after that, anyway. I glance behind me to see Adriana collapsing onto her makeshift bed on the couch.
My phone is already in my hand as I take the steps down, my thumb hovering over a contact I haven’t used in a while. I pause at the bottom, the glow from the monitors casting low light across the room before I even step fully inside.
Jude is on the screen, and he’s pacing again. Back and forth across the room, chain dragging with every turn, his movements are a little fast, like there’s something agitating him.
My jaw tightens. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath. I hit the call button. It rings once. Twice.
“Hello?” Kami’s voice is thick with sleep, but alert enough that she must be just going to bed.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, stepping further into the room. My eyes don’t leave the screen. “I need your help.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “With what?”
I watch Jude stop abruptly, his chest rising and falling hard before he turns and starts pacing again, faster this time. “With Jude,” I say, my voice low. “I’ll explain everything. I just—I need you ready.”
“Okay,” she says, more awake now. “Micah?”
I swallow, because I know.
“Did he really do that?” she asks, her voice now breaking.
An involuntary frown pulls at my lips, and I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. “Yes, Kam. He did.”
“Oh, my god…”
“I’ll be in contact, yeah?” I tell her, and then I hang up before she can ask more.
The room feels heavier when the line goes dead.
If I were honest with myself…I feel devastation at the fact that Alexei released that video to the world.
I’m fucking devastated at what that evil asshole did to my best friend.
When I turn, I jolt when Rafe is suddenly at my side in the dark room.
I didn’t even know the motherfucker was in here.
His expression is unreadable as he watches Jude move back and forth like a caged animal.
The light from the screens reflects faintly in his eyes, but there’s nothing in his face that gives anything away.
“How long have you been in here?” I ask.
He tilts his head. “About an hour.”
“I didn’t even see you, man,” I murmur. “How bad is he, do you think?”
Rafe doesn’t look at me right away. His gaze stays locked on the screen. “He’s due for another dose,” he says finally. “Suboxone should take the edge off.”
I nod once. “Yeah. I figured.”
“He had a nightmare,” Rafe adds after a second. “Triggered some kind of fight response. He’s been like this since.”
My eyes flick back to the monitor. “Did he say anything?” I ask.
“No.”
I exhale slowly, trying to steady the concern clawing up my spine. “Alright.”
Rafe finally glances at me then. “You going in?”
“Yeah,” I say without hesitation, grabbing the pill bottle from the table.
I turn toward the hallway that leads to Jude’s room, my grip tightening around the plastic as I move.
The house is still quiet above us, the rest of them probably still asleep.
I reach the door and pause for half a second, listening.
The pacing hasn’t stopped. In fact, it’s faster now, like he’s getting worked up.
My jaw locks as I unlock the door and step inside.
He doesn’t look at me when I walk in. He’s pacing, just like he was on the monitor, bare feet dragging against the floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. His hands keep pushing through his hair, shoulders locked in defensive mode.
“Hey,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Easy.”
He stops abruptly, as if something yanked him to a halt. For a second, he just stands there, back half-turned to me, chest rising and falling too fast. Then his head tilts, just enough that I know he’s tracking where I am without actually looking at me. It's fucking creepy.
“What?” he snaps.
I can’t help it. I tense a little at his tone. “I brought your meds,” I say, lifting the Suboxone.
Thankfully, that gets his attention and allows for some relief to seep into his expression. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, I need that.”
I nod once and step forward just enough to close the gap between us. I know not to move too quickly around him when he’s like this. “Sit down for me,” I say.
He exhales hard through his nose, like my simple request has irritated him, but he doesn’t argue. He turns and drops onto the edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees, head hanging.
I crouch in front of him, keeping my movements slow as I pass him the pill. His fingers brush mine when he takes it, and they’re really cold and unsteady. But he doesn’t bother to comment on it. He just slips the pill under his tongue.
I grab the water and set it within reach anyway, in case he needs something to chase the taste with.
He leans back after a second, eyes closing, jaw working as the medication dissolves. His breathing is still uneven, but it starts to slow just a little bit. “Feels like shit,” he mutters after a moment, voice rough.
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “It’s going to.”
His eyes open again, irritation flashing immediately. “That’s helpful.”
I huff out a breath, not rising to it. “I’m not here to sugarcoat it, man.”
He scoffs. “My skin feels like it’s crawling off my body,” he says, words coming faster now. “I can’t sit still. I can’t fucking think. Every time I close my eyes—” He cuts himself off abruptly, jaw clenching.
Nightmare.
I don’t push it.
“I fucking hate this,” he mutters, pushing up from the bed again like he can’t stand being still for more than a few seconds. The chain drags as he starts pacing again.
I stay where I am, watching him, letting him move. Good days and bad days. That’s what his life is going to be for a while.
“You’re coming off a lot at once,” I continue.
“Your body’s trying to figure it out. It’s going to feel like hell at first.” A memory of one of my solo doses flashes into my mind, one from before I met Jude.
I’ve been an IV addict for longer than him, and am able to function properly with Suboxone. Thank hell.
He laughs under his breath, but there’s nothing amused about it. “Feels like my brain’s trying to crawl out of my fucking skull.”
I don’t doubt that.
He stops suddenly again, this time closer to the wall, his hand bracing against it as his head dips forward. For a second, I think he might actually be getting sick.
“You gonna puke?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No.”
A beat passes.
Then, rougher, “I can’t fucking shut it off.”
I don’t ask what it is. I think I already know. His thoughts, and memories. The leftover wiring Alexei carved into every inch of his mind and body.
“It doesn’t shut off. Even if I desperately fucking want it to.” His eyes flick toward the corner of the room, like he heard something. His entire body tenses for half a second before he forces himself to look away, shaking it off.
Yeah. He’s still half there. Still waiting for something that isn’t coming.
“You’re here,” I say, not moving closer but making sure he hears me. “You’re not there anymore. You’re safe, with people who love you.”
His jaw tightens. “I know,” he snaps. But his body doesn’t agree. He’s still jittery, but it’s not as bad now. The Suboxone is kicking in.
I watch him for another minute before speaking again. “You eat anything?” I ask.