Ash was halfway to school when he felt it.
That prickle at the back of his neck.
The kind that told you something was wrong before your brain caught up.
The street looked the same as always—parked cars, early-morning joggers, the hum of traffic a block away. Too normal. Too calm.
Then he saw him.
Tall.
Broad shoulders under a fitted black jacket.
Blond hair catching the morning light.
Blue eyes sharp enough to cut glass.
A small tattoo sat near the corner of the man's eye—subtle, deliberate. Not flashy. Not something you'd forget.
Ash's stomach dropped.
No way.
The man stood across the street, leaning casually against a lamppost, scrolling through his phone like he didn't belong to the tension he carried. Like he wasn't the most dangerous thing on that sidewalk.
Ash turned his head slightly, hoping—praying—he'd misidentified him.
He hadn't.
Lincoln Valdes.
Isabella's older brother.
The one people whispered about.
The one who left town years ago and never came back.
The one her father never spoke of unless it was to complain.
Ash's pulse spiked.
Why is he here?
He adjusted his hoodie, lowered his head, and tried to keep walking like nothing was wrong. Just another Monday. Just another student on his way to school.
He took three steps.
Then a shadow crossed his path.
"Hey."
The voice was calm. Almost friendly.
Ash froze.
He turned slowly.
Lincoln was standing right behind him now, close enough that Ash could smell his cologne—clean, expensive, restrained. The kind of scent that came from someone who knew exactly who they were.
Lincoln smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Morning," he said. "Ash, right?"
Ash swallowed. "Uh—Lincoln… what brings you here?"
The words came out smoother than he felt. He forced a casual tone, like this was just an awkward reunion and not the beginning of something terrible.
Lincoln tilted his head, studying him. Really studying him.
"You got taller," Lincoln said. "Or maybe I just forgot how small you were."
Ash laughed weakly. "Yeah. Uh. Been a while."
Lincoln nodded, slow and thoughtful. "It has."
They stood there for a moment, silence stretching. Cars passed. A woman walked her dog across the street. Life kept going like this wasn't happening.
Lincoln slipped his phone into his pocket.
"So," he said, easy. "I heard you've been around my sister."
Ash's throat tightened. "Isabella? Yeah, I mean—we go to the same school."
Lincoln watched his face carefully. Every micro-expression. Every flicker of fear.
"Hm," Lincoln murmured. "Funny."
Ash shifted his weight. "What's funny?"
"That no one told me she wasn't living at home anymore."
The words landed like a slap.
Ash's breath hitched for half a second before he could stop it.
Lincoln caught it.
His smile sharpened.
"Oh," Lincoln said softly. "That reaction? That tells me a lot."
Ash forced himself to recover. "I—I don't know anything about that, man."
Lincoln stepped closer.
Not aggressive.
Not loud.
Just enough to take up Ash's space.
"Relax," Lincoln said. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. I just want to know where my sister is."
Ash hesitated.
Lincoln noticed.
"Have you seen her?" Lincoln asked.
Ash exhaled, relieved—for now. This wasn't about the video. Not yet.
"Yeah," he said. "I mean, I saw her recently."
Lincoln raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"She's… staying with friends," Ash added quickly. "I think."
Lincoln stared at him.
"Think," he repeated.
Ash nodded. "Yeah. I mean, that's what I heard."
Lincoln leaned back slightly, giving Ash some air again.
"Friends," Lincoln said. "Right."
He glanced toward the school in the distance.
"Funny how things fall apart when people start caring about the wrong things."
Ash's stomach churned. "What do you mean?"
Lincoln looked back at him, eyes cold now.
"I mean," he said, "my sister doesn't get thrown out of her house for nothing."
Ash's mind raced.
Does he know?
Does he know about the post? About Theo? About the beating?
Lincoln studied him for another long moment.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled again.
"Anyway," Lincoln said lightly, "if you see her, tell her I'm in town."
Ash nodded fast. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll tell her."
Lincoln turned as if to leave, then stopped.
"One more thing," he said without looking back.
Ash held his breath.
Lincoln glanced over his shoulder, blue eyes locking onto his.
"If I find out someone had a hand in making her life harder…"
He shrugged.
"I don't like unfinished business."
Then he walked away.
Just like that.
Ash stood there long after Lincoln disappeared down the street, his heart hammering against his ribs.
His hands were shaking.
He pulled out his phone, checking it instinctively—no new messages, no threats, no notifications.
But the relief didn't come.
Because deep down, Ash knew something.
Lincoln hadn't asked the important questions yet.
And when he did—
Ash wasn't ready.