The house was finally quiet after dinner, but the tension still hummed beneath the surface like a live wire. I lingered in the kitchen longer than necessary, rinsing the same glass twice while the guys slowly drifted upstairs or into the living room for their nightly video game session. Caleb had disappeared to his room right after eating, but I felt his presence everywhere — in the way his eyes had tracked me across the table, in the subtle brush of his foot against mine under the table that no one else had seen.
My ribs still ached, the bruises a deep, angry purple that made every breath a reminder of Kane’s promise. But the real ache was deeper. The memory of Caleb’s mouth on mine in the weight room, his careful hands tracing my injuries, his whispered confessions — they refused to fad
