POV: Avery Knox
Lies had a texture, and Mila's were like sandpaper rough, obvious, and grating against everything Avery knew about her. Since the second grade, she'd been a human truth bomb, loud in her anger, transparent in her sadness. Now, she was a closed door, and he could hear the terrible things rattling on the other side.
She sat across from him at lunch, stabbing a limp french fry, her laughter a beat too late and a decibel too high. A performance for his benefit.
"So," he said, keeping his voice light, conversational. "Which hospital was it again?"
She didn't miss a beat. A bad sign. "Mercyhill."
The word landed like a stone in his gut. Mercyhill had been shuttered for renovations since last fall. His mom had complained for weeks about the transfer.
He didn't flinch. Just nodded, the thud of his heart a dull drum in his ears. "Did the police ever follow up?"
"I didn't file a report," she said, the words rushing out in a single breath. "Didn't see their faces. What was the point?"
Lie,Lie,Lie.
Avery smiled, a tight, brittle gesture. Inside, a cold fire of worry ignited. This wasn't Mila protecting herself. This was Mila building a wall around him. And he was terrified of what she was trying to keep out.
POV: Leo Maddox
From his vantage point behind the gnarled oak, Leo watched Avery. The boy was a symphony of anxious tells the hunched shoulders, the constant, flickering glances. He was sensing the pressure, the invisible walls closing in.
Good.
But Leo wasn't the only audience member. His spine stiffened, a primal sense screaming that another presence was tuned to the same frequency. He didn't need to turn his head to confirm it. The weight of the gaze was familiar, a possessive, violent static in the air.
Ezra.
He was here. Which meant Mila was back, but not freed. Ezra's "mercy" was always a strategic play, a piece moved on a board only he could see.
"You shouldn't have touched her," Leo muttered, the bark digging into his palm. "I told you not to."
But Ezra never listened. Not when he believed he was protecting what was theirs.
POV: Avery Knox
The lie clung to Avery all day, a shroud he couldn't shake. He tried to rationalize it maybe her attackers had threatened her. But the look in her eyes hadn't been fear of reprisal. It had been fear for him.
The feeling of being watched returned, a physical pressure between his shoulder blades. This was different from the usual gossipy stares. This was a predatory focus, a lens zeroing in on his soul.
He spun around in his seat.
The classroom was mundane. A kid snored. Sunlight glinted off a window.
But for a split second, he'd sworn he saw a dark, rectangular shape a camera? vanish from the window frame.
Just a reflection. You're losing it.
But the part of him that trusted his instincts knew he wasn't.
POV: Leo Maddox
Two floors up, Leo lowered his camera, his knuckles white. He'd seen the exact moment Avery's intuition had sparked. The boy was becoming aware of the ecosystem of obsession he lived in.
Suspicion was acceptable. Fear was manageable.
But as Leo prepared to retreat, his gaze caught on a anomaly across the courtyard. A tall figure, hooded, standing unnaturally still amidst the flow of students. A statue of intent.
Not Ezra.
The realization was a cold knife in his ribs.
Then who?
POV: Unknown
From the shadow of the science building, the figure watched the watcher.
So he's got other fans, they mused, a slow smirk spreading.
They held up a crumpled photograph. Avery, caught mid-laugh at a summer festival, a moment of pure, stolen joy. On the back, a single word was scrawled in thick, possessive ink:
MINE.
POV: Avery Knox
"You're really going?" Mila's voice was shrill with disbelief. "After everything? The messages, the guy outside the school… now you're just walking into a house full of people who don't get it?"
"It's my sister's birthday," Avery said, his voice quiet but firm as he shoved a charger into his bag. "I promised her."
"What about your mom?"
Avery's hands stilled. The zipper seemed suddenly very interesting. "She won't say anything. She'll just… look at me. The way she always does. Like I'm a ghost she regrets conjuring."
Mila's face fell. "Avery…"
"I'm used to it."
The car ride was a silent, rolling coffin. The driver, a new hire his mother had sent, kept glancing in the rearview mirror, his eyes lingering a moment too long. Avery stared out the window, wondering if paranoia was a symptom or a survival skill.
The house was a museum of his childhood, perfectly preserved and equally cold. The same immaculate white fence, the same ruthlessly trimmed rose bushes.
He rang the bell.
The door swung open. His mother stood there, a vision in pearls and perfect lipstick. Her eyes widened in surprise, then cooled, hardening into polite disapproval.
"Avery."
"Hi."
"I didn't think you'd come."
"I said I would."
She stepped aside, her gaze sweeping over him. "You look tired. Are you eating at all?"
A bitter laugh escaped him. "Nice to see you, too."
Then, a small tornado of joy shrieked and launched itself at his legs. "AVEEEYYY!"
His heart, a frozen thing in his chest, thawed instantly. He knelt, gathering his little sister in a crushing hug. "Happy birthday, bug."
She buried her face in his neck and whispered, "Mom said you might not come…"
He forced a bright smile. "I wouldn't miss it."
But as the party swirled around him the laughter, the music, the cloying sweetness of the cake the familiar feeling of being watched returned. His eyes scanned the room and landed on a figure leaning against the buffet table.
Nate.
His older cousin. The one who'd called him a "freak" after he came out. The one who'd shoved him into a locker and whispered, "You're going to hell," with a smile.
He was here. And he was smiling now.
Avery's stomach plummeted. The night had just taken a sharp turn for the worse.
Nate cut through the room with the smug confidence of someone who'd never faced a consequence. "Hey, cuz. Long time no see."
Avery didn't bother with a fake smile. "Yeah. Guess that's the way I wanted it."
Nate chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound. "Still touchy, huh? Cute."
"Still a dick, huh?" Avery snapped.
Before Nate could retort, Avery's mother glided between them, placing a placating hand on Nate's arm. "Nate, darling, would you be a dear and help me bring the wine from the cellar?"
She didn't even glance in Avery's direction.
He watched her back as she led Nate away. "Love you too, Mom," he muttered to the empty space she left behind.
He needed air. He shoved open the patio door, the cold night a welcome slap against his heated skin. He gripped the porch railing, trying to steady the frantic rhythm of his heart.
Behind him, the living room curtains twitched.
He spun around,Nothing there.
POV: Leo Maddox
From the driver's seat of his sedan parked across the street, Leo watched. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Avery looked small on that porch, shoulders hunched against the cold and the emotional chill of that house.
He shouldn't be here. Ezra's voice echoed in his head: "You're gonna make it worse, bro."
But Ezra didn't understand. Ezra cleaned up messes; Leo curated the subject. Seeing Avery in pain, in a place that caused him pain, was an intolerable flaw in the composition.
His eyes narrowed, scanning the lit windows of the house. Someone in there had put that defeated slope in Avery's posture. Someone had made him shrink.
POV: Avery Knox
The cold finally seeped through his jacket, driving him back inside. The party was thinning. Nate, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen.
His sister ran up, her face smeared with chocolate. "Come play with us in the backyard! We're doing karaoke!"
He mustered a real smile for her. 'I'll be right there, okay?"
But as she skipped away, his gaze was drawn to the staircase. The door to his old bedroom at the top of the stairs was slightly ajar.
He always kept it closed. His mother always kept it closed.
A cold dread, entirely separate from the winter air, coiled in his gut.
Something was wrong.