Chapter Thirty-Five—Andrew
Connor says, “Last chance,” and I'm already looking past him, at Riley.
Her breathing is off, too controlled. She's holding herself still in a way that won't last long, her fingers working the hem of her sweater in tight, repetitive movements she doesn't seem aware of. She's holding too much, and I can see it slipping.
She steps forward before any of us do. “Please,” she says, quiet. “Just go. Let me handle this.”
I glance at Liam. His jaw is already set. Ethan meets my eyes and gives one small nod.
Every instinct says don't leave her.
Staying only makes it worse.
“We're going,” I say—to Liam, to Ethan, not to Connor.
Liam drops his arms and doesn't argue. He sees it too—this is what she's asking for, not just what Connor wants. Ethan moves first, Liam follows, and I go last.
Riley's still standing there, chin up, one hand braced low against her thigh like she's holding herself in place. Her face is composed enough to pass. Barely.
I hold her eyes for a second, just long enough to let her see I'm not walking away from her. Then I turn and leave.
The door shuts behind us with a quiet click. That's it.
The elevator lobby is small and too bright for what just happened inside. We stand there without speaking while the car makes its way down. Liam watches the door like it might open again. Ethan watches the panel. I watch the floor.
The doors slide open, and then it hits. No warning, no time to think it through. Just instinct—the same one I've had since I was a kid. Get out first. Get ahead of it. Leave before it costs you more than you can take.
I did it once already, burned Riley down because I thought I was saving us both from something worse. Standing in her brother's elevator after being thrown out, the pull is the same. Walk away. Clean. Simple.
We push out onto the sidewalk. Liam looks wrecked in a quiet way—not tired, something deeper than that. He hasn't taken his eyes off the elevator since we got down here. Ethan shifts his weight once, then goes still again. None of us are okay. We're just holding it together.
Liam drags a hand over the back of his neck, then stops like he caught himself doing it. Ethan comes to stand beside me.
“She'll handle it,” he says.
“Yeah.”
It's not reassurance. Just true. For a second, none of us moves.
Liam exhales. “Okay. So that was fun. What now?”
Ethan nods across the street. “Hotel's right there.”
I follow his line of sight. Five-star, close enough to keep an eye on the building. “Yeah,” I say. “We're not going far.”
Liam lets out a short breath. “Perfect. Love that for us. Get kicked out, relocate across the street.”
“Walk,” Ethan says, already stepping off the curb.
We follow. A minute later, we're heading inside like this is just another night. It isn't. Not even close.
Liam exhales. “Twenty-four hours. We give him that. Then we go back.”
I nod. Ethan does too.
It's not enough time. It's too much time. It's what she asked for.
I've never been good at waiting. Where I grew up, you didn't wait—you took what you could or you lost it. That was it. Nobody stayed long enough to teach anything else.
I check my phone. Nothing. Liam doesn't say anything. Then it buzzes.
Riley: He wants me to stay with him and Sarah. I told him no. Are you okay?
I read it once, then again. She said no. She stayed, held her ground—and after all of that, she's asking if I'm okay. I don't have a clean answer for that.
I type anyway.
Andrew: We're good. Are you?
Send.