Adrian's POV
Pain.
That was my first thought when I woke up.
White-hot, burning pain in my chest that made breathing feel impossible.
My second thought: Where's Ethan?
I tried to sit up, but hands pushed me back down gently.
"Don't move." A nurse's voice. "You've been shot. You're lucky to be alive."
Shot. Right. I took a bullet for Ethan.
Worth it.
"Ethan," I managed to croak out. "Is he—"
"The other boy is fine. He's in the waiting room." The nurse adjusted my IV. "You saved his life. That bullet would've killed him instantly. Hit you in the shoulder instead. You'll recover fully."
Relief flooded through me so strong I almost cried.
Ethan was safe. That was all that mattered.
"Vincent?" I asked.
The nurse's expression darkened. "The shooter? In police custody. And his brother—Lucas Park—is in surgery. Touch and go right now."
Lucas might die because of Vincent's obsession. Another victim of his twisted love.
"You have visitors," the nurse said. "They've been waiting for hours. Your parents flew in from—"
"I don't want to see my parents." I knew what they'd say. Knew the disappointment in their eyes. Their son who got shot protecting another boy. Their son who'd been exposed on video confessing love to his male roommate.
"They're very worried—"
"I want to see Ethan." My voice came out stronger. "Please. Just him."
The nurse hesitated, then nodded. "Five minutes. You need rest."
She left. Moments later, the door opened.
Ethan walked in, and my heart did that stupid jumping thing it always did when I saw him.
He looked awful. His eyes were red and swollen like he'd been crying. His hands shook. Blood stained his shirt—my blood, I realized.
"Hey," I said softly.
Ethan's face crumpled. He rushed to my bedside and grabbed my hand like he was afraid I'd disappear.
"You idiot," he choked out. "You stupid, brave, incredible idiot."
"Nice to see you too," I tried to joke, but my voice was too weak.
"You could have died!" Ethan's tears fell onto our joined hands. "You could have died because of me!"
"But I didn't. I'm okay."
"You took a bullet for me!" His voice rose. "A BULLET, Adrian! Why would you do that?"
"Because I love you." The words came out easy. Simple. True. "I told you that already. When you love someone, you protect them. Even if it costs you everything."
Ethan stared at me, his hazel eyes swimming with tears. "That's not fair."
"What's not fair?"
"You can't—" He struggled with the words. "You can't just say things like that after almost dying! You can't make me feel—" He stopped, covering his face with his free hand.
My heart raced despite the pain medication making everything fuzzy. "Feel what?"
"Like I'm the worst person in the world for not realizing sooner." Ethan looked at me, and something in his expression had changed. "For not seeing what was right in front of me this whole time."
"Ethan—"
"I don't know if it's love yet," he interrupted quickly. "I don't know what I'm feeling exactly. But watching you fall, seeing your blood, thinking you might die—" His voice broke completely. "It felt like my whole world was ending. And I realized that somewhere between hating you and defending you and hiding from Vincent with you—you became important to me. Really important."
Hope bloomed in my chest, more powerful than any pain.
"You don't have to—" I started.
"I'm not finished." Ethan squeezed my hand tighter. "I need time. Time to figure out what I'm feeling. Time to untangle everything that's happened. But I want that time with you. Not running from you. Not competing with you. Just—with you."
"That's all I've ever wanted," I whispered.
Ethan smiled through his tears. "Yeah, well, you're stuck with me now. Someone has to make sure you don't do anything else stupidly heroic."
"Can't promise that."
"Try."
We sat in comfortable silence, hands linked, both alive and safe.
Then Ethan's phone buzzed.
He checked it and went pale. "Oh no."
"What?"
"It's from the hospital administrator. They want to see me immediately." He showed me the message. "It says it's about Vincent's case. They need my statement."
"That's normal, right? The police will want details—"
"It's not from the police. It's from the hospital." Ethan's hands started shaking again. "Adrian, why would the hospital administrator need my statement?"
Before I could answer, the door burst open.
Not the nurse. Not a doctor.
Dean Whitmore, flanked by two campus security guards.
Her face was grim. "Ethan Cross, you need to come with us. Now."
"What? Why?" Ethan moved closer to my bed protectively.
"Vincent Park is claiming self-defense. He says you and Adrian lured him to that building to attack him. That Lucas was helping you. That everything was a setup to frame him for stalking."
"That's insane!" I tried to sit up, but pain exploded through my shoulder. "We have evidence! The videos, the messages, the photos—"
"All of which Vincent's lawyer claims were fabricated." Dean Whitmore's expression was stone. "And there's another problem. The cameras you planted in room 304 to record Vincent's confession? They malfunctioned. Every single one. We have no audio, no video of what happened before the police arrived."
My blood went cold. "How is that possible?"
"Vincent's lawyer is suggesting you sabotaged them yourselves when the confession didn't go the way you wanted." Dean Whitmore looked at Ethan. "Mr. Cross, until we sort this out, you're being placed under investigation for conspiracy to commit assault."
"You can't be serious!" Ethan's voice was desperate. "He shot his own brother! He tried to kill me!"
"According to Vincent, Lucas brought the gun. The shooting was an accident during a struggle. And you provoked it by threatening his family."
"I never—"
"Vincent has text messages. From your phone. Threatening to expose him unless he left you alone." Dean Whitmore showed us her tablet.
The messages were there. Sent from Ethan's number. Threatening, aggressive, completely out of character.
"I didn't send those," Ethan whispered. "He must have—"
"Hacked your phone? Planted them? That's convenient." Dean Whitmore's tone made it clear she didn't believe him. "Mr. Cross, come with us. Now."
"No!" I grabbed Ethan's hand despite the pain screaming through my shoulder. "You can't take him! Vincent is lying! He's been lying this whole time!"
"Mr. Vale, if you don't let go, I'll have security remove you from this hospital."
"Adrian, it's okay." Ethan squeezed my hand one last time. "I'll go. I'll answer their questions. The truth will come out."
"Ethan, don't—"
But security was already pulling him away.
Ethan looked back at me, his eyes full of fear and something else. Something that looked like goodbye.
The door closed behind them.
I was alone.
My phone—sitting on the bedside table—buzzed.
Unknown number.
"Did you really think it would end that easily? Vincent was just a pawn. A convenient distraction. The real game is just beginning. And guess what, Adrian? You're about to lose everything you love. Again. -V2"
V2?
Another message: "Vincent was my student. I taught him everything. But he was sloppy. Emotional. I'm not. I'm patient. Calculated. And I've been watching you and Ethan for much longer than you realize. Check your email. You're going to want to see this. -V2"
My hands shook as I opened my email.
One new message. An attachment.
I clicked it.
A video loaded.
It showed me and Ethan in our dorm room. But not from the night Vincent was watching.
From weeks ago. Before Vincent was ever exposed.
The angle was different. Higher. More hidden.
And the audio was crystal clear.
Me, talking to Derek on the phone: "I'll do whatever it takes to keep Ethan close. I don't care if it's wrong. I don't care if he hates me. I need him."
Derek's voice: "Adrian, that's obsession, not love."
Me: "Call it what you want. Ethan is mine. He just doesn't know it yet."
My stomach dropped.
This video—taken out of context—made me sound exactly like Vincent.
Made me sound like a stalker.
Another message appeared: "I'm sending this to the police in one hour. Unless you do exactly what I say. If you want to save Ethan from being framed, you'll meet me. Alone. Tell no one. Or everyone sees this video, and you become the villain in this story. Room 666, Mercy Hospital psychiatric ward. You have 45 minutes. Don't be late. -V2"
Room 666. The psychiatric ward.
This was a trap. Obviously a trap.
But if I didn't go, that video would destroy me. Prove that I was obsessed with Ethan. Make everything Vincent said look true.
Ethan would think I was just like Vincent.
I couldn't let that happen.
I pulled the IV from my arm, ignoring the pain. Found my clothes in the closet, blood-stained but wearable.
Every movement hurt, but I pushed through it.
I had to save Ethan. Even if it meant walking into another trap.
Even if it meant—
My phone buzzed one last time: "Oh, and Adrian? I'm not working alone. Someone close to you has been helping me this whole time. Someone you trust. Guess who. 😊 -V2"
Someone I trust?
Derek? Emma? Maya?
Who would betray us?
I looked at the door. Freedom was right there. I could call for help. Tell the police.
But then that video goes public. And Ethan suffers.
No choice.
I opened the door and slipped into the hallway.
Forty-three minutes until I had to be at Room 666.
Forty-three minutes until I found out who V2 was.
And why they wanted me so badly.
Behind me, unnoticed, a figure emerged from the shadows of my hospital room.
Someone who'd been hiding there the entire time.
Watching. Listening. Smiling.
They pulled out their phone and texted: "He took the bait. He's coming. -V2"
The response came immediately: "Perfect. Phase Two begins now."