Chapter 6

Edwin’s POV

The rain hadn’t stopped by the time I shoved through the front door. My new shoes, forty bucks I’d scraped together from the emergency stash, were already ruined, the leather darkened and misshapen, soles making wet, sucking noises with every step across the linoleum. Water streamed off my jacket in cold rivers, pooling around my feet. I kicked the door shut harder than necessary; the bang rattled the thin walls.

Ruby’s voice cut through the dark living room before I could even shrug out of the wet layers.

“You’re late. And soaked.”

She was sitting on the couch, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them like she was holding herself together. The TV was off. The lamp beside her cast a weak yellow circle that didn’t quite reach her face. She’d clearly been waiting.

“Yeah,” I muttered, peeling the jacket off. It landed in a sodden heap. “The bus never came. Walked most of the way.”

She tilted her head. “Someone dropped you off.”

My heart gave a single, hard thud.

I turned slowly, trying to keep my expression neutral. “What?”

“I saw the car from the window. Green. Expensive. Stopped right in front. You got out.” Her eyes flicked to mine, steady, searching. “Who was it?”

I forced a small shrug, the motion feeling wooden. “Just some guy from the office. Offered a ride because of the storm. Nothing special.”

“From the office?” She unfolded her legs and sat up straighter. “You started today. Mail room. Errands. And already someone’s giving the new intern a lift home in a car that costs more than this building?”

I swallowed. “It broke down in the rain. I helped fix it, old hobby. He felt bad, that’s all.”

She studied me for several long seconds. The silence pressed in, thick with everything she wasn’t saying.

“You look… weird,” she said finally. “Like you’re about to be sick.”

“I’m just cold. And tired.” I turned toward the hallway, desperate to escape her gaze. “Long first day. I’m gonna shower.”

“Edwin.”

I stopped, shoulders tight.

She stood up. Bare feet padded across the floor until she was right behind me. “You’ve been acting strange for weeks. Coming home late. Smelling like expensive cologne sometimes. Disappearing for hours. And now this.”

My pulse hammered in my ears. I kept my back to her. “It’s a new job. People wear cologne. People give rides when it’s pouring. That’s it.”

“You’re lying.” Her voice was quiet, almost gentle. That made it worse. “You always do that thing with your left hand when you lie, curl your fingers like you’re holding something you don’t want to drop.”

I looked down. My fingers were curled into a loose fist. I forced them open.

“Ruby, I’m exhausted. Can we not do this tonight?”

She stepped around so she could see my face. Her eyes were too old for sixteen. “I’m not stupid. I know something’s going on. You think I don’t notice how you flinch when your phone buzzes at night? Or how you hide cash under the loose floorboard in your closet?”

My stomach dropped another inch. She wasn’t supposed to know about the floorboard.

“I found it last month,” she said, reading my expression. “I wasn’t snooping. I dropped my charger cord, and it slid under there. I saw the envelope.”

I closed my eyes for a second. “That’s for Mom’s meds. Emergency fund. Nothing else.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to throw up every time I ask where the money comes from?”

“Because I’m tired of explaining myself,” I snapped, sharper than I meant to. She flinched just a tiny movement, but I saw it. Guilt immediately clawed up my throat.

I dragged a hand through my wet hair. “Look. The job is good. Really good. It pays enough that I won’t have to… do extra stuff anymore. We’re going to be okay. That’s what matters.”

She searched my face. “Extra stuff?”

Shit.

I backpedaled fast. “Side gigs. Bartending overtime. Deliveries. Whatever I could pick up. That’s all.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she asked, softer, “The guy in the car… is he your boss?”

My mouth went dry. “Why would you think that?”

“Because the car stopped exactly when you got out. And you looked… scared. For a second. Before you saw me in the window.”

I forced a laugh that sounded more like a cough. “I was just wet and cold. And yeah, he’s high up. One of the executives. Offered the ride out of politeness. That’s it.”

She nodded slowly, but her eyes didn’t soften. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll drop it. For tonight.” She turned toward the hallway, then paused. “But if something’s wrong, if someone’s making you do things you don’t want to do, you tell me. Promise?”

The lump in my throat was suddenly painful. “I promise.”

She gave me one last long look, then disappeared into her room. The door closed with a soft click.

I stood there dripping for another minute, listening to the rain hammer the roof and the faint creak of her bed as she settled in.

Then I moved.

I stripped out of the wet clothes right there in the hall, left them in a pile, and walked to the bathroom. The shower scalded my skin pink, but I stood under it anyway, letting the heat burn away the memory of Daniel’s hand around my throat in the car. The growled threat still echoed in my skull.

Don’t you ever speak of what happened that night? Take it to your grave.

I pressed my forehead to the tile and breathed through the panic, trying to claw up my chest.

Ruby didn’t know. She couldn’t know. Not about the nights at the bar. Not about the clients. And definitely not about the man who’d paid me ten thousand dollars to kneel for him, the same man who now controlled whether I kept this internship or lost everything.

If she found out that anyone found out the fragile new life I was trying to build would collapse. Mom’s insurance, Ruby’s school, the roof over our heads… all of it tied to this job. Tied to him.

I shut the water off, dried myself roughly, and pulled on clean sweatpants and a hoodie. When I stepped back into the hall, the apartment was silent except for the rain.

I checked on Mom first. She was asleep, breathing shallow but steady. I kissed her forehead the way I always did, then went to my room.

My phone sat on the mattress. The screen lit up as I approached.

One new message. Unknown number.

Stay out of trouble, Mr. Reed. We both have reputations to protect.

No name. Didn’t need one.

I stared at the words until the screen timed out and went dark.

Then I crawled under the covers, still damp-haired, and pulled the blanket over my head like I was six years old again and hiding from monsters.

Only this time, the monster had hazel eyes, a deep voice that could command or threaten in the same breath, and the power to destroy me with one phone call.