Dirty Little Secrets

CHAPTER 25.

SUMMER'S POV

Pain greeted me before consciousness fully returned.

Every breath felt like knives twisting between my ribs. My face throbbed where the bruises had bloomed overnight. I cracked open my good eye and stared at Amanda’s cracked ceiling, the faint glow of a streetlight bleeding through the thin curtains. Her small apartment smelled like instant noodles and cheap lavender air freshener—familiar and safe. For a moment, I wished I could just stay here, buried under the blanket she’d tucked around me.

“Summer?” Amanda’s voice was soft but alert. She sat on the edge of the couch, a damp cloth in her hand. “You’ve been out for a while. I changed the bandages twice. You look like hell, girl.”

I tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. A sharp gasp escaped me. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine. You were supposed to rest.” She pressed the cloth gently against my swollen cheek. Her touch was careful, but her eyes were stormy. “I thought about calling George. Or that Kingsley guy. You were mumbling in your sleep—something about the club. You’re not seriously thinking of going, are you?”

The reminder hit me like another kick to the ribs. My phone lay on the coffee table, screen dark. I reached for it, ignoring the protest from my battered body.

As if on cue, it chimed.

Unknown: Don’t forget our meeting tonight, Dark Bird. 10 PM sharp.

Amanda leaned over, trying to see the screen. “Who was that? Summer, talk to me. You’re shaking.”

I swung my legs off the couch, biting back a groan. “I have to go.”

“Are you insane?” Amanda stood up, blocking my path to the bathroom. Her voice rose with frustration and fear. “Look at yourself! You can barely walk. Those animals beat you because of some stupid school drama, and now you’re running straight into the lion’s den? Tell me what’s really going on. Who’s threatening you?”

I met her eyes, the weight of every secret pressing down on me. “You don’t want to know, Amanda. The less you know, the safer you are. I just… I have to handle this, myself.”

“Handle it how?” She grabbed my arm, not hard, but firm enough to stop me. “By letting them use you? By destroying what’s left of your life? Kingsley looked at you like he wanted to fight the world for you before you pushed him away. George would burn everything down if he knew. Why won’t you let anyone help?”

“Because help gets people killed!” The words burst out sharper than I intended, laced with all the fear I’d been swallowing for weeks. I pulled my arm free, wincing.

Amanda’s shoulders slumped. Tears glistened in her eyes. “You’re going to get yourself killed, Summer. And I’m supposed to just watch?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Instead, I limped to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, and stared at the stranger in the mirror—purple bruises, split lip, one eye nearly swollen shut. I pulled on the darkest clothes I could find in my bag: black hoodie, jeans that hid the worst of the damage. Every movement sent fresh waves of agony through me, but I clenched my jaw and kept going.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered to Amanda as I headed for the door.

She didn’t try to stop me again. “Be careful. Please.”

The night air outside was cool and unforgiving. I moved slowly through the streets, each step a battle. My body screamed for rest, but the text burned in my mind. 10 PM sharp.

I was cutting through a quieter residential block when I saw her.

Kingsley’s mother—Eleanor—walking ahead under the streetlights. Her posture was tense, shoulders hunched like she carried the weight of the world. She looked… afraid.

“Mrs. Robert!” I called out, my voice hoarse.

She didn’t turn. Maybe she didn’t hear. Or maybe she was too lost in her own thoughts.

Something pulled me forward. Instinct? Curiosity? The same pull that kept dragging me deeper into this nightmare. I followed at a distance, keeping to the shadows, my battered body protesting with every step. She moved with purpose, turning down side streets until the buildings grew older and the lights sparser.

We entered a narrow, dark alley. The kind where secrets went to die. Trash bags lined one wall. A single flickering bulb cast long, menacing shadows. Eleanor finally stopped near the end.

I pressed myself against a recessed doorway, heart pounding so hard I was sure she could hear it. Pain flared in my ribs as I held my breath.

A man’s voice sliced through the silence—low, smooth, and dangerously familiar. His face remained hidden in the deeper shadows.

“You’ve avoided this long enough, Eleanor.”

“You will dare not do that!” Eleanor’s voice cracked with raw fury and terror. “After everything you’ve already taken from me—from us—you think I’ll just come crawling back? Stay away from my son!”

The man chuckled, a sound that sent ice down my spine.

“Come back to me,” he replied, calm and venomous, “and I might reconsider it. Kingsley is mine, whether you like it or not. Keep fighting me, and I’ll make sure he learns every ugly truth. Starting with how his precious mother has been lying to him all these years.”

“You monster,” she spat. “You forced me into this hell. I won’t let you destroy him too. Kingsley is nothing like you!”

“Blood doesn’t lie, my dear. He’s already showing the temper. The possessiveness. Ask Summer Walker how well he handles rejection.”

I flinched at my own name. My foot shifted on loose gravel.

Crack.

The sound was tiny, but in the silent alley it might as well have been a gunshot.

Both heads snapped toward my hiding spot.

“Who’s there?” Eleanor called sharply, fear bleeding into her voice.

I didn’t wait. Panic surged through the pain as I pushed off the wall and stumbled out of the alley as fast as my bruised body would allow. Footsteps echoed behind me—someone giving chase?

I didn’t look back. I turned the corner, lungs burning, ribs screaming, and kept moving until the alley was far behind. My legs gave out near a bus stop, and I collapsed onto the bench, shivering violently, not ot from cold, but from the terror clawing at my insides.

I hugged my knees to my chest, ignoring the fresh pain it caused. Tears slipped down my swollen cheeks. Kingsley had no idea. None of us did. The web was so much bigger, so much darker than I’d imagined.

My phone buzzed again. Another unknown message.

“Tick tock, Dark Bird. Don’t make me come find you.”

I wiped my face, stood on shaky legs, and forced myself toward the club. Every step hurt. Every shadow felt alive with eyes. But I had no choice.

The darkness was closing in faster than I could run.