บททั้งหมดของ The Wrong Type of Free: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

Interlude-Fourteen Years Ago LUCAS I knew Mom was still angry before she even got into the car. Mom was never a yeller. She was quiet-angry, which was somehow worse because it made you feel guilty without her even doing much. Dad was of course a yeller, but mom had pleaded for him to stay put. Dad was driving, while mom sat in the passenger seat staring out the window while I sat in the backseat with a split lip and bruised knuckles pretending I wasn’t in trouble. I was twelve in seventh grade. I was currently suspended from Bayside High School potentially. The principal had called it “violent behavioral escalation”, which was dramatic considering Tyler Reed absolutely deserved to get punched in the face. “You could’ve killed him, Lucas,” Dad said finally, breaking the silence while trying to heed mom’s advice. I sank lower into the seat. “I didn’t mean to,” I said with all honesty “You slammed his head against a locker. You weren’t supposed to do.” “But he cal

Parole Check InSHAWMy visitor turns out to be law enforcement. Mrs. Able made sure to announce that before at the doorway to prepare me for the inevitable.I stand slowly from the dining table while Mrs. Able ushers a federal agent whose aim was to ruin my day which has barely started. She then meets me shortly,“Up, up, sweetheart. Duty parolee calls,” she says gently.That woman could call a serial killer sweetheart and somehow make it sound nurturing.I wipe my hands quickly on my sweatpants and chug the rest of my coffee before following her toward the living area.A young officer sits neatly on the couch in uniform with a tablet balanced over one knee and a polite smile that immediately makes me suspicious.Nobody associated with Blackbridge Correctional Facility should smile that much. I’m guessing he’s a rookie. Oh, he has to be. B’cos Blackbridge fucks up both their prisoners and staff. “Mr. Carter,” he says, standing briefly to shake my hand. “Officer Daniel Ramos.”His

MeltwaterSHAWThe speed of it shocks me most.One second Lucas is submerged in freezing water looking half-dead and emotionally gutted. He’s out of the tub the next second.Water crashing everywhere.My back slammed against the wall hard enough to rattle the mirror, and his hand formed a stem around my throat.I stare at him in stunned silence.Jesus Christ.He moved like instinct. Like panic gave his body permission before his brain caught up.Although his hold isn’t hurting, it’s enough to send a warning signal and a stupid wave of something down my spine.Cold water dripped from his hair onto my shirt. His skin was freezing against mine—so cold it almost burned through the damp fabric sticking to my chest.Our faces were a few inches away, too close. All that’s left of us were his rough breaths and my muffled ones. I can see the pulse jumping wildly in his throat.“You,” he said roughly, tightening his grip slightly, “do not get to play with things that can destroy me.”Neither of

Professional RecommendationsLUCASI probably should not have helped Shaw Carter rebuild his life.That felt important to acknowledge.There were several reasons for this.First: he was technically an ex-felon with anger issues and prison trauma.Second: I was me.Third—and honestly most importantly—I was originally supposed to hate him properly and consistently.Instead, I was currently sitting shirtless beside him on the Hale family lawn while he held together the torn remains of his résumé like a grieving widow.Life came at you fast.“I might know how to help you,” I said.Immediately, Shaw narrowed his eyes at me like I’d announced plans to sell him illegally on the dark web.Fair.“Why do you look evil when you say helpful things?” he asked suspiciously.“That’s just my face.”“No, it’s not.”“It absolutely is.”He squinted harder.The sunlight caught against his hair annoyingly well today. His green eyes looked brighter outside. Softer too. Prison stripped a lot out of him, but

First ImpressionsSHAWLucas Hale’s Bugatti met my expectations, of course. I sat stiffly in the passenger seat trying very hard not to touch anything unnecessarily because every surface looked expensive enough to sue me personally if I damaged it. The leather seats were smooth black with blue stitching. The dashboard glowed softly beneath tinted glass. Even the air-conditioning smelled expensive somehow.How does air smell expensive?Rich people were terrifying.Meanwhile, Lucas looked completely at home behind the wheel like he was born inside luxury vehicles and personally breastfed by capitalism.“This car should honestly be illegal,” I muttered.Lucas smirked without taking his eyes off the road.“It practically is.”The engine purred beneath us like something alive.No, not purred.It literally growled.The Bugatti felt less like a car and more like a very wealthy predator.Lucas tapped the steering wheel lazily before suddenly accelerating hard.My entire body slammed back aga