My Brother, My Ruin のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 121 - チャプター 130

Chapter 123: Forty-Eight HoursCassandraThe number sat on the screen like a countdown.Twenty-five thousand by Monday. Or the diner got the video.Alexander locked the phone and set it on the concrete floor like it might burn him. The basement was quiet except for the refrigerator’s weak hum and the occasional footsteps of the owner’s son above us. I pulled my knees to my chest on the mattress and tried to breathe past the tightness in my chest.“We don’t have it,” I said. The words felt stupid even as I said them. Of course we didn’t have it. We barely had enough for the next week’s food.“I know.” Alexander’s voice was low and rough. He sat on the edge of the mattress with his elbows on his knees, staring at the opposite wall. “Brady’s offer is still open for another day and a half. Enough for rent. Not enough for what they’re asking. And even if it was, paying never stops them.”I reached over and touched his back. The muscles under his shirt were tight. “What do we do?”“We go to

Chapter 124: Time-SensitiveCassandraWe barely slept after the officer’s call. The words “something’s come up” and “time-sensitive” kept circling in my head while the basement settled into its usual night noises— pipes ticking, footsteps somewhere above, the occasional car on the street. Alexander held me through most of it, one hand steady on my back, but I could feel the tension in his body matching mine.We got up before the sun and dressed in the cleanest clothes we still had. The walk to the police station felt longer than the day before. Neither of us said much. There was nothing useful to say until we knew what waited for us inside.Officer Trent met us at the front desk. He was younger than I expected, with a tired face and a folder under one arm. He led us to a small interview room, closed the door, and set the folder on the table.“Thanks for coming in so early,” he said. “I’ll get straight to it. After you filed the report we ran the phone numbers and the metadata on the i

Chapter 126: After the ArrestCassandraThe basement felt different the morning after Derek’s arrest. Not safer, exactly. Just quieter in a way that made the other problems louder. No new threats on the phone. No countdown numbers. Just the concrete walls, the thin mattress, the envelope of cash that still had an expiration date, and the knowledge that someone who shared my blood had tried to sell our private moments for money.Alexander was already awake when I opened my eyes. He was sitting on the edge of the mattress tying his shoes for the loading job he had managed to secure for the day. When he noticed me watching he leaned over and kissed my forehead.“Sleep any better?” he asked.“A little.” I sat up and pushed hair out of my face. “It still doesn’t feel real. That it was Derek. That he sat in that room with the rest of them and then went and did this.”“I know.” He finished with his laces and rested his elbows on his knees. “Part of me wants to ask him why. The smarter part k

Chapter 128: The Name on the Paper Cassandra The name on the paper was short and ordinary and it knocked the air out of my lungs. Tyler Brandt. Alexander stared at it like the letters might rearrange themselves into something less impossible. Officer Trent watched our faces and waited. “You know him,” Trent said. It wasn’t a question. “Yes.” Alexander’s voice had gone flat. “He lived on the same floor as us in the off-campus building last year. Basketball manager. Always around. Always asking questions that felt a little too curious. We never had proof he was involved in the original photos, but he was one of the people who seemed to know more than he should have.” I felt cold. “He helped set up the team’s social media. He had access to a lot of people’s phones and laptops when they needed ‘technical help.’ We joked that he was nosy. We never thought he was dangerous.” Trent made a note. “The residual data ties his name to an early file that was later passed through the accoun

Chapter 130: Something Different Cassandra I stayed on the bathroom floor longer than I needed to. The tile was cool under my knees. My stomach had settled into a queasy emptiness, but the shaking in my hands hadn’t stopped. Behind the closed door I could hear Alexander shifting in the guest bed. Any second he might wake up and ask why I was gone. I stood carefully, rinsed my mouth at the sink, and washed my face with cold water. The mirror showed the same person who had survived the family meeting, the basement, the threats, and the arrests. Nothing looked different. I told myself the nausea was leftover stress. Too many early shifts. Too many nights of thin sleep. Bodies did strange things when they finally stopped running on pure adrenaline. When I opened the door Alexander was sitting up against the headboard, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep. “You okay?” he asked. “You’ve been in there a while.” “Fine.” I climbed back into bed and let him pull me against his chest. H