Chapter 13

“Not a chance in hell!”

The scream burst from the depth of my lungs, bouncing off the dining room walls. “You're both completely out of your minds if you think I’m sleeping in the same damn room as this asshole! I’d rather pitch a tent in the backyard or sleep on top of the lawnmower!”

“I don’t want him in here either!” Mateo snapped for the first time, yanking the ice pack away from his face to reveal his split lip. “I deal with enough of his daily drama as it is, without having him breathing down my neck while I sleep.”

“That is enough!” Carlos slammed his hand flat against the table, making the coffee cups dance. “Neither of you is in any position to make demands. Mateo, deal with it. Lucas, go upstairs right now and get your stuff. This is my house, these are our rules, and if you can’t act like civilized human beings during the day, you’re going to learn how to coexist at night. You’re moving in together today, and that is final.”

I whipped around to look at my mom, hoping for a tiny miracle, but she stood there like a pillar of salt, arms crossed. She completely threw me to the wolves. I was alone against the world, backed into a corner by my tyrant of a stepfather and his psycho son.

I stomped up the stairs so hard I swore my feet were going to crash right through the wooden steps. I was boiling with rage, my ears burning, my hands shaking all over again. *Sharing a room.* Sleeping six feet away from him. Locked in the same space every single night, in the pitch dark, with no lock on the door—and the lingering memory of his rough hands gripping my dick, making me come like a complete idiot. My stomach churned with pure humiliation. I needed to see Sofi this weekend and sleep with her no matter what. If I didn’t lose my virginity right now, this house was going to drive me completely out of my fucking mind.

I packed like a maniac. I shoved my clothes into my duffel bag as if they were trash, kicked my sneakers inside, and grabbed my pillow so hard I nearly ripped the stuffing out of it.

I walked down the hallway feeling like a pig headed to the slaughterhouse. The door to Mateo’s room was standing ajar. I kicked it open with my foot and barged in.

Mateo’s room was massive—plastered with hockey team posters, furnished with two desks, and littered with a monumental disaster of sports gear and pads scattered everywhere. But the room wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was *him*. Mateo was sitting on the edge of his bed, ice pack gone, running his tongue over the cut on his lip while staring right at me with those dark, arrogant eyes.

“Watch it with the bed, little brother. Don't go breaking my mattress with your temper tantrums,” he drawled in that calm, dragged-out voice that made me want to smash his face in all over again.

“Shut your mouth, Mateo!” I roared, yanking the duffel bag’s zipper open with a violent tug. “Shut your fucking mouth! I swear to God, I don't care if your dad is downstairs—I will break the other half of your face!”

“Oh, please,” he mocked, leaning back and resting his elbows on the mattress, eyeing me up and down with a smug smirk. “Don't act tough, it doesn't suit you. And stop whining to the world. If we’re stuck in this shitshow, it’s your fault for going all wild and throwing a punch at me like a cornered ape.”

That was the absolute last straw.

Something snapped inside my head. Whatever fraction of patience I had left dissolved like smoke. I grabbed a fistful of shirts I was about to put in a drawer and slammed them onto the floor with everything I had.

“My fault?! You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” I screamed, taking three aggressive strides until I was standing right in front of him, shaking with rage from head to toe. “*You* were the one who cornered me in the hallway! *You* pinned my hands! *You* shoved your hand down my pants and touched me like you own me, you fucking sick freak!”

Mateo didn’t even flinch. He didn’t blink, he didn’t lean back, and he didn’t bother wiping that stupid smirk off his face. He just raised an eyebrow, blatantly enjoying the sight of me unravelling out of sheer desperation.

“Why the hell did you do that, huh?!” I demanded, my throat tightening as I jabbed my index finger right at his face. “Say it to my face, Mateo! What kind of sick game are you playing?! Why the hell would you do something like that to your own stepbrother?! Are you fucking gay, or what the hell is wrong with your head?!”