He exhales like it hurts, and buries his face into my hair. I can feel the tears he’s holding back, the way his chest shudders. I wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between us.
For a long time, there’s only silence.
“I’ve done bad things, Em.”
“I know,” I whisper. “You don’t have to—”
“I do.”
He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes glassy, red-rimmed.
“I’ve killed people. I don’t even know how many anymore. Some were threats. Some were just...messages. I didn’t want to do it, but if I didn’t, they’d send Micah. So I just fucking did it.”
His words come out in broken bursts, like every one stabs him deeper in the gut.
“I trafficked for them. Used my tours to move shipments. Drugs, cash, whatever they needed. I signed fake sponsorship deals just to hide the money. And Adriana…” His voice cracks, jaw tightening. “She was part of it. They made me...she—she makes me—”
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to. I see it in his eyes...the disgust, the shame that’s been eating him alive.
I reach up, cup his face in both hands, and force him to look at me.
“Jude, hey...look at me.” His eyes meet mine, and I see everything. The boy he was. The man he became. The light that’s still inside of him.
“You’re stillyou,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “No, I’m really not—”
“I don’t care,” I cut him off softly. “You’re alive. That’s enough for me.”
He lets out a broken sound, like half a sob, half a sigh, andpresses his forehead to mine. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Stop,” I murmur, my thumb tracing the edge of his jaw. “You deserve to befree.”
He stays quiet after that, breathing me in. His hand finds mine under the blanket, his fingers cold but stronger than before. When he finally speaks again, it’s barely a whisper: “I don’t want to die this way.”
I fight a frown, tears slipping down my face. “We’ll find a way out. I promise, okay?”
His grip tightens, and his weight goes slack against me.
I blink awake at that soft, colorless light that comes just before sunrise. For a second, I don’t know where I am. There’s only the hum of the hotel air conditioner. Then I feel the weight of Jude’s arm draped over my waist, his chest pressed to my back, the slow, uneven rhythm of his breathing against my shoulder.
My Jude.
I stay perfectly still, afraid to break the peace. His skin is warm, his breath heavy with sleep, and for a moment, I let myself believe we could stay like this. That last night wasn’t real, and he didn’t do all those terrible things.
He’d told me so much last night. The people. The drugs. Adriana. His voice shook like the words themselves were cutting him open. And I’d just held him. Because what else could I do?
Heather is not going to believe this.
Micah’s soft snore drifts from the other bed, and it feels like we could just stay in this safety all day. Then Jude stirs. His arm slips away from me, and the spell breaks. He sits up slowly, pressing a hand to his face, the other clutching his phone from the nightstand. The glow of the screen hits his eyes, and I can see his shoulders stiffen immediately.
“What is it?” I whisper, though I already know.
Micah’s phone buzzes a second later. He groans, squints atit, and then curses under his breath. “Nolan,” he says, dragging a hand through his long, blonde hair. “He wants us back. Now.”
Jude doesn’t answer. He just stands, still shirtless, body rigid, the faint tremor in his hands showing that withdrawal already creeping in.
I pull the sheets tighter around me, watching as they both start moving. Micah grabs their bags, and Jude drags a matching black hoodie over his head. They both look hollow and exhausted.