Chapter 4

It was Ethan.

In the video, my brother was on his knees with blood streaming down his face, bowing over and over, forehead slamming the concrete.

"Please — I'm begging you — let me go. I was wrong. I should never have gone near Miss Blackwell..."

Dominic's foot came down on his face and ground it into the floor. He was laughing.

"You think you're worthy? You think Serena is someone a nobody like you gets to want?"

"Since these arms touched someone they shouldn't have — you don't need them anymore."

The camera shook hard.

Then came my brother's scream — raw, animal, the kind of sound that doesn't leave your head.

The last thing on the video was Serena's voice, off-screen.

"God, Dominic, that was so hot! Love you! That's number ninety-nine — next one better top this!"

I closed the video.

I pulled a bottle of pills from my pocket, shook a handful into my mouth, and chewed them dry.

Antidepressants.

My doctor had told me that stopping them cold could make things spiral — violent episodes, possible psychotic breaks.

I didn't care anymore.

......

The next morning, Dominic was dressed to the nines, ready to go crash Serena's hundredth wedding.

I blocked the doorway with my arms spread wide, eyes red and swollen.

Dominic shoved me aside with one hand.

I fell — and as I hit the floor, something spilled out from inside my clothes.

Dozens of photographs, scattered all over the ground.

I'd spent a fortune collecting them before I ever set foot in this city.

His foot was already mid-swing toward my ribs. It froze in the air.

He stared at the photos like they'd burned him.

The photos were all of him.

On a basketball court, jersey dark with sweat.

Asleep in a library corner, cheek pressed against a bookshelf.

At a restaurant, arms thrown around his friends, laughing like he didn't have a care in the world.

A younger Dominic. Bright, alive, full of fire.

Not the twisted, hollowed-out thing he'd become — the kind of man who got off on breaking people.

Dominic bent down slowly and picked up one of the photos.

His eighteenth birthday. Frosting smeared across his face, eyes squeezed shut in a grin.

"Where did you get these?"

I scrambled to grab them back, tears pouring down.

"Give them back! Don't look at those!"

"These are all I have left of you. Don't you dare take them."

"So you didn't come to me for money?"

Something shifted in his expression — something I couldn't read.

"Dominic, I just had a crush on you, that's all! Why is it always Serena? Why can't you ever see me?"

"You came because... you're in love with me?"

I didn't answer.

And as it turned out — he didn't make it to Serena's wedding that night.

Dominic didn't say a word. He just looked at me like he was seeing someone for the very first time.

Then he kissed me.

Not rough. Not possessive.

I didn't push him away.

His fingers threaded through my hair and slowly tightened.

His breath turned hot and uneven, trailing from my ear down the side of my neck.

He pressed me into the couch cushions, and his full weight followed.

Shirt buttons came apart — the metallic sound cut through the silence like a blade.

His mouth burned against my skin — the kind of heat you don't pull away from.

My fingers dug into the edge of the sofa. My body was shaking.

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes.

Not from desire. From hatred so thick it nearly strangled me.

His palm traced up along my waist, heat bleeding through the thin cotton of my dress.

He whispered against my throat.

Not Serena.

Ellie.

I opened my eyes and met his bloodshot gaze. Hunger. Greed.

Pathetic.

The same hands that had crushed my brother into the pavement were trembling on my body now.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder.

Later — in bed. Then against the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Moonlight poured in, casting our tangled shadows across the glass.

He called my name over and over. Ellie. Ellie. Like a man in prayer.

And I closed my eyes, silently mouthing my brother's name.

Ethan. I'm here for you.