No One Owns Me

Chapter 20 — When Everything Breaks

The ride back is heavy, no words passing between us. I sit hunched behind Ward, arms locked tight across my chest, every jolt of the bike sending sharp fire through my ribs. My lip throbs, my cheek is swelling fast, and my shoulder feels like it’s been split open. But none of that hurts half as much as the anger coiling tight in my throat—at Ward, at Dad, at Mum, at myself, at everyone who thinks they know what’s best for me.

When Ward pulls into the yard and cuts the engine, I swing off before he can even stand.

“Casey—”

“Don’t.”

He freezes, hands half-raised like he wants to help, then drops them to his sides.

I march toward the clubhouse doors. They swing open before I reach them. Duncan stands framed in the light. His face blanches the moment his eyes land on me.

“What happened?”

I don’t answer. He steps forward, gaze raking over the split lip, the dark bruise blooming across my jaw, the blood crusted on my temple. Mia appears behind him, and her hand flies to her mouth.

“Oh my God. Casey…”

Duncan turns sharply to Ward. “What happened?”

Ward exhales slowly, voice tight. “She was fighting. Underground.”

“Fighting?” Duncan’s voice rises, sharp with fear and fury. “You went back to that ring? The one place I told you to stay far away from?”

“Dad, stop—”

“You could have been killed!”

“But I wasn’t!”

“That is not the point!”

Mia steps closer, hands hovering like she’s afraid to touch me. “How could you put yourself in that danger? Look at you.”

“I know exactly what I look like!” I shout, the words bursting out before I can hold them back. “I know what danger feels like! I’ve lived it my whole life!”

The room falls silent. Every eye is on me—the Kings, Duncan, Mia, Ward—all staring like I’m something fragile to be locked away.

“You all keep telling me what I should do,” I say, my voice cracking. I point at Duncan. “You decide where I go and what I’m allowed to face.” Then Mia. “You decide what I should feel and when I’m ready to hear it.” Then I turn to Ward, and my chest aches so bad I can barely breathe. “And you… you decide that stepping away is the only way to do the right thing.”

Ward’s face falls. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Congratulations.” My laugh is bitter, broken. “You did a perfect job of making me feel completely alone.”

“Casey, please—”

“No!” I lift my head, tears spilling hot and fast. “I spent seventeen years believing my mother was dead. Eleven years not knowing if my father was even alive. A year running from a man who wanted to use me as a weapon. And every single time I finally trust someone… they decide they know better than me!”

Mia starts crying. I see it, and it only makes the anger burn hotter.

“Don’t,” I say, my voice softening just enough to hurt. “Don’t cry like you’re the one who lost something. I don’t know you. You left me. You chose to be gone.”

“I chose to keep you safe,” she whispers. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

“Everyone says that!” I cry. “Every single one of you! You protected me by disappearing. You protected me by lying. You protected me by walking away. I don’t need protecting! I need someone to see me, not just what they’re afraid might happen to me!”

Duncan moves forward, slow and careful. “You need a doctor. You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine!”

The words barely leave my mouth before the room tilts. The walls blur. My legs turn to water. I reach for the wall, miss completely.

Strong arms catch me before I hit the floor.

“Casey!” Ward’s voice is sharp with terror. “I’ve got you. Easy now.”

Duncan rushes to help lower me gently to the floor. “What’s wrong? Did he hit your head?”

I try to answer, but my tongue feels too heavy. Voices swirl around me—Mia sobbing, Duncan shouting for Drake to call an ambulance, Ward repeating my name over and over like a prayer. My head grows heavier, the light fading fast. The last thing I see before everything goes black is Ward’s face, pale and terrified, leaning over me.

The first thing I notice is the steady, rhythmic beep. Then the sharp smell of antiseptic. Then the ache, everywhere, deep in my bones.

I blink open my eyes. White ceiling. Thin sheets. A hospital room.

Duncan sits in the chair beside the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Mia is curled on the other side, eyes red and puffy. Both look like they haven’t slept in days.

Duncan lifts his head the moment I shift. “Casey?”

My throat feels like sandpaper. “Water.”

He moves fast, lifting my head carefully to help me sip from a straw. The cool water is a miracle.

When he sets the cup down, he brushes hair gently from my forehead. “You scared every last one of us. We thought… we thought we’d lost you.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He shakes his head quickly, eyes glistening. “No. Don’t be. You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to scream, to fight, to hate what we’ve done. But you have to stay alive long enough to get it all out. Promise me that.”

A tiny, wobbly smile tugs at my mouth. “Deal.”

Mia reaches for my hand, hesitating for just a second before her fingers close around mine. I don’t pull away.

“I should have found another way,” she says quietly. “I should have trusted you enough to tell you the truth, even when it was dangerous. I was so afraid I’d break you… I didn’t see that lying was breaking you more.”

I squeeze her hand, soft but sure. It’s not forgiveness—not yet. But it’s the first c***k in the wall I’ve built around myself. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

The door creaks open. Ward stands in the doorway, still in his rumpled clothes from the night before, dark circles under his eyes. He freezes when he sees me watching, then steps slowly closer, relief flooding his face.

“Hey,” he says, like he’s afraid speaking too loud might break me.

“Hey,” I say back, and my voice is warmer than I expected.

He nods at the bruises on my face, one eyebrow lifting. “I seem to remember telling you no more underground fights.”

I huff a weak laugh. “You’re one to talk about breaking promises.”

He smiles, small and sad and real. “Fair point.”

Duncan looks between us—at me, at Ward, at the way we stand on either side of this messy, fragile line—and for the first time there’s no anger, no warning, no demand for distance. Just quiet understanding.

Mia gives my hand another gentle squeeze. The beep of the monitor settles into a steady rhythm. Outside, the sun comes up, pale and soft through the window.

We’re not fixed. We’re not perfect. We still have so much to say, so much to untangle, so much to forgive. But for tonight, we’re all here. No one is hiding. No one is running. No one is pretending to have all the answers.

And for now… that’s more than enough.