Young Brandon POVBrandon’s POV (Flashback)The blood dripping from my side dragged me under, and before I knew it, I wasn’t in that cold, broken room anymore. I was small again. Seven. Scared out of my mind.I could smell the dust of the attic, the wood so old it creaked with every breath I took. My wrists were red where the rope rubbed against them, and my throat burned from crying so much. Two days. Two nights. That’s how long I’d been here.And I remembered the voice of my best friend’s dad, sharp and mean, echoing in my head: “Your parents will pay. They have to. Or else.”I didn’t even understand half of it. I was just a kid. But I knew enough to know it was bad. I knew enough to know I wasn’t supposed to be here.The attic window was tiny, cracked open just a little. And in that moment, I thought: It’s now or never.I wriggled free enough to get the rope loose, my hands trembling so hard I thought I’d drop. My heart was hammering so loud I was scared they’d hear it downstairs.
Brandon’s POVThe ropes burned into my wrists, tighter than before, my skin rubbed raw every time I twisted. My legs were sore from kicking, my throat dry from all the yelling earlier. And still, nothing. No way out. Just me, trapped like some animal, with shadows circling me again.The sound of boots scraped against the cracked concrete floor. I lifted my head, my breath ragged, hair plastered against my forehead with sweat. There they were—the same masked guys who’d been taunting me all day. The same faceless monsters.The one in front, the leader, tilted his head at me like I was some pathetic little bug. His voice dripped mockery.“Still breathing.”“Yeah,” I rasped, my voice shredded, but I forced a smirk anyway. “Sorry to disappoint. Guess choking me out earlier wasn’t enough for you clowns.”He crouched so his mask was level with my face. “Any last words?”I wanted to spit in his face, but my mouth was too dry. My lips cracked when I tried to form words, so I just clenched my j
Drake’s POVI didn’t move for a long time. Just stood there in the silence, fists clenched so hard my nails dug crescents into my palms. He walked out. He always walked out. But I saw it in his face before he left—he wasn’t walking away from me. No. He was walking toward him.Brandon, you stupid bastard.That name burned like acid in my throat. Brandon had sunk his claws so deep into Cameron that every time I reached out, I only cut myself on his shadow. And the worst part? Cameron let him. Cameron chose him over me, every single time.I turned slowly, my eyes falling on the half-empty wine glass still sitting on the table. My hand twitched. I wanted to hurl it against the wall, watch it shatter into pieces, but I didn’t. Not yet. My anger wasn’t blind rage anymore—it was cold, sharp, like a knife.Unless Brandon disappeared completely from this world, Cameron would never belong to me. I understood that now. The connection between them—it wasn’t just attraction, it was chains. Invisib
Brandon POvI woke up with a sharp sting in my wrists and a pounding headache that felt like someone was hammering inside my skull. My arms were tied behind me, the ropes biting into my skin, and the cold floor pressed against my back. I blinked against the dim light, taking in the room—dilapidated, empty, paint peeling off the walls, and the smell of damp concrete thick in the air.Masked figures stood around me, watching silently. I had been here before—more than once—and I knew the drill. This was a warning. This was intimidation. And they were good at it.I tried to move, but the ropes dug into my wrists. My jaw clenched. “You really think this will break me?” I hissed, voice hoarse.One of them stepped closer, knife glinting in the weak light. “Call your men,” he said, voice muffled behind the mask. “Tell them you’re withdrawing from the bidding. Or…” He pressed the blade lightly against my neck, a subtle but clear threat.I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. The bidding. My mi
Brandon POvI woke up with a sharp sting in my wrists and a pounding headache that felt like someone was hammering inside my skull. My arms were tied behind me, the ropes biting into my skin, and the cold floor pressed against my back. I blinked against the dim light, taking in the room—dilapidated, empty, paint peeling off the walls, and the smell of damp concrete thick in the air.Masked figures stood around me, watching silently. I had been here before—more than once—and I knew the drill. This was a warning. This was intimidation. And they were good at it.I tried to move, but the ropes dug into my wrists. My jaw clenched. “You really think this will break me?” I hissed, voice hoarse.One of them stepped closer, knife glinting in the weak light. “Call your men,” he said, voice muffled behind the mask. “Tell them you’re withdrawing from the bidding. Or…” He pressed the blade lightly against my neck, a subtle but clear threat.I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. The bidding. My mi
BrandonI woke up with a sharp sting in my wrists and a pounding headache that felt like someone was hammering inside my skull. My arms were tied behind me, the ropes biting into my skin, and the cold floor pressed against my back. I blinked against the dim light, taking in the room—dilapidated, empty, paint peeling off the walls, and the smell of damp concrete thick in the air.Masked figures stood around me, watching silently. I had been here before—more than once—and I knew the drill. This was a warning. This was intimidation. And they were good at it.I tried to move, but the ropes dug into my wrists. My jaw clenched. “You really think this will break me?” I hissed, voice hoarse.One of them stepped closer, knife glinting in the weak light. “Call your men,” he said, voice muffled behind the mask. “Tell them you’re withdrawing from the bidding. Or…” He pressed the blade lightly against my neck, a subtle but clear threat.I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. The bidding. My mind r