The apartment was dark except for the low hum of the streetlights bleeding through the blinds.
Skylar sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the wall, arms resting loosely on her knees. She didn't speak. Didn't push. Just waited.
Reagan sat across from her, still gripping the frayed edge of the blanket around her shoulders like it was armor. Her foot kept tapping without rhythm, heel bouncing off the floor with nervous energy. The silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that said: I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Tell me when you're ready.
Reagan stared down at her raw, bruised knuckles. At the cracks between her fingers where the tape had bitten too deep. She wanted to say nothing. Wanted to bury it like always. But the image from the phone—the blood, the bruises, the lifeless way her body had lain there—burned behind her eyelids every time she blinked.
Her voice was hoarse when it finally broke the silence. "It started when I was sixteen."
Skylar didn't flinch. Didn't gasp. Just listened.
Reagan dragged the words out like pulling barbed wire from her throat. "I thought he loved me. Travis. He made me believe it... until he didn't have to pretend anymore."
Skylar's fingers twitched once against her knee, but she stayed still, letting Reagan shape the story in her own time.
"He hurt me. Him and his brother. Over and over." Reagan's nails dug into her palms. "They said I deserved it. That it was my fault."
The air in the apartment thickened, almost unbreathable. Reagan lifted her head slowly, meeting Skylar's eyes across the room.
"I got out," she said. "But I don't think... I don't think they ever let me go."
Skylar nodded once. No pity. No horror. Just understanding.
"They're back," Reagan whispered, voice splintering. "And this time... I don't think they're going to settle for just haunting me."
Neither of them moved for a long moment.
Then Skylar pushed herself to her feet and crossed the room.
Reagan kept her gaze fixed on a crack in the floorboards, voice low and tight like she was strangling the words out. "It wasn't just him. Travis. Owen was there too. Sometimes he... held me down. Sometimes, he just watched. Smiling like it was a joke."
Her hands twisted the blanket so hard it creaked. Her elbow knocked into the side table, nearly tipping the glass of water, and she winced. "Sorry."
"You're fine," Skylar said gently.
"It wasn't every day. At first, it was just yelling. Just pushing. Just..." she swallowed hard, bile rising. "But it got worse. Little by little. Until I didn't know who I was without bruises."
Skylar sat still. Not flinching. Not crying. Just breathing slow and steady, like she could anchor Reagan with her presence alone.
"And their parents," Reagan spat, bitterness sharp as glass. "They knew. They saw. They heard. They laughed. Called me dramatic. Said 'boys will be boys.'"
Her throat burned, memories thick like smoke. "Their mom once told me if I stayed quiet, they'd 'forgive me' for making a scene. Their dad said girls like me should be grateful someone wanted them at all."
She shook her head. Tears stung, but she blinked them away. "They covered for them. Paid people off. Threatened teachers. Called in favors. They thought they were untouchable."
Reagan inhaled a ragged breath and looked back at Skylar's quiet, fierce eyes. "I didn't just survive Travis and Owen," she whispered. "I survived a whole goddamn empire built on power, money, and lies."
Skylar leaned in slowly, not touching. "You did more than survive, Rae. You fought your way out."
Reagan blinked. Her chest ached so badly it felt like a bruise.
"But they're not done," she said. "They're coming. I can feel it."
Later, Reagan sat curled on the couch, knees to her chest, city noise filtering through the window. Skylar paced, tapping a restless rhythm against her thigh.
Reagan's phone buzzed once on the table. She didn't move.
Skylar glanced at her. "You gonna get that?"
Reagan reached slowly, elbow knocking into the mug beside it. It tipped, but she caught it. Barely. Her fingers shook so hard the phone nearly slipped anyway. She hated that she hesitated. Hated that she felt like a child again, afraid of a screen.
She picked up the phone. Screen lit. One new message. Not a number she recognized.
Her stomach twisted.
She tapped the screen.
A photo.
Of her.
Sleeping.
Taken from inside her apartment.
Her mind reeled. No noise. Just static.
The phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a dull thud.
She stumbled back, knees knocking the coffee table. "What—?"
Skylar was already on her feet. "What is it?"
She grabbed the phone, her face hardening as she stared at the image. "Fuck this. Get your shoes. We're going to the goddamn police."
Reagan couldn't think. Could barely breathe. She nodded, numb, and let Skylar drag her into motion. Her limbs moved like jelly, feet fumbling into the wrong shoes, putting the left one on the right foot and having to yank it off again while Skylar cursed softly and helped her.
The drive blurred—headlights, cold air, rubber tires eating up the silence. Reagan sat stiff in the passenger seat, fingers digging into her thighs until she broke the skin. She didn't notice. Didn't care.
Skylar's hands gripped the steering wheel so tight her knuckles were white. Neither of them spoke. The radio crackled once. Reagan jumped, head smacking the window, letting out a strangled laugh that dissolved into a choked sob.
At the station, the lights stabbed at her eyes. Everything looked too bright. Too sharp. Too loud.
Skylar slammed the phone on the counter.
"Someone broke into her apartment. Took pictures of her while she slept. Are you going to do something or not?"
The desk officer looked up. Bored. Disinterested.
"Ma'am, unless there's proof of forced entry..."
Skylar's fists clenched. "Proof? You want her dead first?"
The officer shrugged. "Could be a prank."
Skylar slammed her palm down. The monitor rattled.
Reagan flinched, hands flying to her ears. Her whole body recoiled.
"No, no, no," she whispered, panic unraveling. Her knees buckled.
Skylar turned, catching her. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"Are you fucking blind?" Skylar roared. "Look at her! Look what you're doing!"
Reagan squeezed her eyes shut, rocking slightly, drowning under lights and noise.
Skylar didn't wait for another excuse. She tightened her grip, half-dragged Reagan out into the night.
Cold air hit like a slap, but Reagan still couldn't breathe right.
Her hands clutched her temples, body trembling, trapped in a loop.
"It's okay, Rae," Skylar muttered, shoving the car door open. "I've got you. Fuck them. I've got you."
She slid Reagan into the passenger seat, sprinted around, and peeled out of the lot like hell was chasing them.
Reagan rocked slightly, arms locked around her stomach, mouth moving but no sound. Her teeth chattered though it wasn't even cold.
Skylar glanced over, jaw clenched. "Breathe. In. Out. You're safe. I swear."
Reagan dug her nails into her arms, sharp enough to sting. It grounded her. Just enough.
They pulled into a different driveway. Not home. Not familiar.
Skylar shut off the engine. "Come inside. No questions. No bullshit."
Reagan nodded, stiff. Let Skylar lead her into a small apartment that smelled like coffee and detergent. She tripped over the threshold, catching herself awkwardly on the doorframe.
Skylar didn't react. Just dropped a blanket over her, handed her water, and sat across from her, silent and steady.
Reagan huddled beneath the blanket, hands shaking. She felt like she might split apart. But Skylar stayed. No pressure. No pity. Just presence.
Reagan sat frozen, the water forgotten in her lap. Heart pounding too loud.
She felt hollowed out, burned clean, but something inside her flickered.
She lifted her head, met Skylar's gaze.
"I can't run anymore."
Skylar leaned in, eyes fierce. "Good. Because next time... we hunt."
Reagan closed her eyes. Let that settle.
No fear.
No retreat.
Just fire.
Her phone buzzed again from the floor. Vibrating like a rattlesnake.
Skylar's face hardened.
Reagan didn't move. Didn't need to.
They weren't going to wait.
They were already here.