Bleed

Chapter 18

*Lia*

My wrist was burning from his touch, I sat in back of Daniels car and pressed my thumb against the red marks Rubben had left there. The skin was tender, the marks were faint, four small ovals where his fingers had dug in, one larger smudge from his thumb. They looked like nothing. But felt like everything.

The alcove had been dark and quiet. The party noise had faded to a dull hum behind the marble pillar. His eyes had not been kind. His voice had not been gentle. Take it off. his grip had been desperation dressed as anger.

“Did someone hurt you?” Daniel asked.

I dropped my hand into my lap like I had been caught stealing. “What?”

He was watching me in the rearview mirror. His doctor eyes missed nothing. Cuts, bruises, flinches. He was trained to see pain. “Your wrist,” he said. “It’s red. Did you bump it?”

I forced a laugh and it sounded wrong to my own ears. “Yeah. The pillar. I was backing up and I hit it. I’m clumsy.”

Daniel frowned. He reached across the console before I could stop him. His fingers were careful as they circled my wrist. Clinical. Warm. He turned my hand over, examining the marks. His thumb brushed the spot where Rubben’s had been.

It was nothing like Rubben’s touch. Rubben’s grip had been a man drowning. Daniel’s was a man checking inventory.

“You should ice it when we get home,” Daniel said. “I can wrap it for you. Make sure it doesn’t swell.”

Home. He said the word like we shared one. Like I had agreed to that. Like my mother’s plan was already working.

“It’s fine,” I said. I pulled my hand back and tucked it under my thigh. “Really. Don’t worry about it.”

Daniel didn’t answer right away. He was still watching my face in the mirror. I turned to the window so he couldn’t see me. The Carter Green building was glowing behind us, all glass and gold and lies.

The party was still going. Music and champagne and laughter. My mother would be working the room, selling the image of a united family. Mr. Carter would be by the bar, playing the perfect host.

Rubben would be at that bar.

I didn’t have to look to know. I could feel him there. I could feel his eyes the way you feel a storm coming. He was standing still, hands in his pockets, because if his hands were free they would be around Daniel’s throat.

“Are you cold?” Daniel asked.

“No,” I said. “Just tired.”

It was the same lie I had told him on the dance floor. I was tired of lying. I was tired of his hand on my back. I was tired of pretending his touch didn’t make my skin crawl when the only touch I wanted was the one that had left marks.

Daniel merged onto the main road. The city lights blurred past. “You were quiet tonight,” he said. “After the dance.”

“I told you. Tired.”

“Was it him?”

My heart stopped. “Who?”

“Your stepbrother,” Daniel said. His voice was even. “Rubben. He stares at you like you stole something from him.”

I kept my eyes on the window. My reflection looked pale. Guilty. “He doesn’t like anyone. I told you that.”

“No,” Daniel said. “He doesn’t like me touching you.”

The car went silent. The only sound was the turn signal, clicking like a timer.

I thought of the alcove. Take his hand off you, or I will. I thought of Rubben’s face when he said it. It wasn’t jealousy. It was grief. It was a man looking at something he thought was his and knowing he could never claim it.

“He’s protective,” I said. The lie tasted like metal. “He’s been through a lot.”

Daniel didn’t respond. He just drove. But his hands were tight on the steering wheel.

We pulled up to my building. He got out and opened my door before I could. Another claim. Another performance.

“Thanks,” I said. I stepped out and didn’t take his offered hand.

He didn’t mention it. He just walked me to the lobby. “Text me when you’re inside,” he said. “And ice that wrist.”

I nodded. “Goodnight, Daniel.”

He leaned in to kiss my cheek. I turned at the last second and his lips brushed my hair instead.

I felt his surprise. I felt his jaw tighten. But he didn’t say anything. He just stepped back. “Goodnight, Lia.”

I watched him walk to his car. I watched him drive away. Only then did I lift my wrist and look at the marks again.

They were fading.

I hated that.

*Rubben*

I watched him touch her.

Daniel’s fingers were on her wrist. The same wrist I had grabbed ten minutes ago in the alcove behind the pillar. The skin was red from me. Now he was covering it with his own hand. Erasing me. Acting like he had the right.

My knuckles went white around the glass of water. The glass was sweating. My hand wasn’t. I was cold. I was always cold when Harlan was near, and his men were in this room. Three of them. One by the bar pretending to drink. One by the stairs talking to a caterer. One by the exit watching the door.

I wasn’t drinking tonight. I needed to be sharp. I needed to see everything. If I moved, if I showed anything, Lia became a target. Harlan had made that clear last week. _Touch what’s mine and she ends up like your mother._

So I stood still. I let Daniel play doctor. I let him play boyfriend. I let him touch the marks I had made and pretend he was fixing them.

Across the room, Lia was getting into Daniel’s car. She didn’t look back at the building. She didn’t have to. I felt her leave like someone had pulled a knife out of my chest. The wound stayed open.

Daniel shut her door for her. His hand lingered on the roof of the car. Claiming. He was good at that. He had been doing it all night. His hand on her back. His thumb on her skin. His mouth near her ear.

Before he got in the driver’s side, he looked straight at me.

He knew. He didn’t know what he knew, but he knew something was wrong. His eyes were a doctor’s eyes. He saw symptoms. He saw the way Lia flinched when he touched her. He saw the way I didn’t drink. He saw the red on her wrist.

I raised my glass to him. Water. No toast. Just a promise. keep touching her and See what happens

Daniel got in the car and drove away.

“Harlan’s men are here,” I said. “Three of them at the bar stairs. Exit.”

“I know,” Dad said. “That’s why you didn’t move.”

I set the glass down on the bar. My hand was shaking. I hid it by shoving it in my pocket. “If he touches her again—”

“He will,” Dad said. He wasn’t being cruel. He was being honest. “And you’ll let him. Until we end this.”

I closed my eyes. I could still feel Lia’s wrist in my hand. I could still feel the tremor in her skin. I could still see the way she had looked at me when I said you don’t get to carry this. Like she wanted to carry it anyway.

Now Daniel was touching those marks.

Now Daniel would ask who hurt her.

And Lia would lie for me.

She would protect me the way I was supposed to protect her.

The thought made me sick.

“Go home, Rubben,” Dad said. “Get some sleep.”

I laughed. It was an ugly sound. “You want me to sleep?”

“I want you alive in the morning,” he said. “Harlan will come. He always comes after the party. He likes to see if we broke.”

I looked at the empty space where Lia’s car had been.

And this was just the beginning.