Chapter 57: #FIFTY-SEVEN

NICHOLAS’S POV

I couldn’t believe I was crying again.

I wiped my face roughly as I climbed the stairs, angry at myself for allowing Adrian’s words to get to me when I had already spent the entire previous day trying to convince myself that none of them mattered. I had barely reached the top when Elijah appeared from the hallway, already dressed for school with his bag hanging from one shoulder.

The moment he saw my face, his expression changed, and he immediately moved toward me. "Nicholas, wait."

I stepped away before he could reach me. "Don’t."

His hand stopped in midair. "You’re crying. What happened?"

"I said don’t." I walked past him without waiting for another question, but he followed for a few steps.

"At least let me see what’s wrong. You can’t keep doing this every time something happens. If Adrian said something downstairs, I’ll talk to him, but you need to stop shutting everyone out."

I turned around so abruptly that he stopped. "You don’t get to tell me what I need to do. You had your chance to care about what I was going through, Elijah, and you chose not to. So don’t stand here now and act like you’re suddenly worried because you saw me crying."

His face fell, but I didn’t give him the opportunity to answer. I walked straight into my room, shut the door and locked it before leaning against it for a moment and I forced myself to breathe.

They weren’t worth my tears.

That was what I kept telling myself as I wiped my face again and walked over to my bed. None of them were worth getting upset over. They didn’t love me. They had never really cared about me. Maybe they had only been keeping me around because I was useful to them, because I was a good fuck or whatever, because of everything they’d learned about me, because I had become involved in their problems. Whatever the reason was, I didn’t want to think about it anymore.

I picked up my phone from the bedside table and stared at it for a moment before turning it on.

I hadn’t wanted to use it because of the stalker’s messages, but right then I desperately needed someone to talk to, and there was only one person I could think of who would actually listen without making me feel like I was another problem he had to solve.

My mother’s name appeared on my screen and I hesitated before calling her.

She answered after several rings, and the moment I heard her voice, something in me relaxed.

"Nicholas? It’s early. Is everything alright? I wasn’t expecting your call."

"I’m fine, Mum. I just wanted to hear your voice." I croaked.

There was a brief pause on the other end. "You sound strange."

"I don’t." I tried to keep my voice level.

"You do. You sound tired, and your voice is different. Did something happen?" Her tone changed into one of concern.

I looked toward the closed door. "No. Nothing happened. I’m just tired."

"Tired from school?" She asked, skepticism in her voice.

"Yeah." I immediately said.

"Are your classes becoming too much? You know you can tell me if you’re struggling. I know I haven’t been around as much as I should have been lately, but that doesn’t mean you have to keep things from me." Her tone became softer, like she was worried about me.

I swallowed. "I know."

She continued talking, asking about my classes, the brothers, whether I’d been eating properly and whether she needed to come back home to see me. I answered every question carefully, giving her just enough information to keep her from becoming suspicious while making sure I didn’t say anything that would make her realize how badly things had gone. When she asked whether I’d been getting along with everyone, I lied again and told her things were fine.

For a while, it actually felt good to talk to her.

She didn’t interrogate me nor tell me anything that would get me upset.

Her voice became a soothing monotone in my ear and I leaned back, my eyes squeezed shut as I used her voice to anchor myself back to reality.

Eventually, she reminded me that she had to leave for work. "Promise me you’ll call again if something is wrong," she said before hanging up. "I may not always be at home, Nicholas, but you can still talk to me."

"I promise." I whispered just as the call ended.

I lowered the phone into my lap and sat quietly for a moment, staring at the blank screen. Then suddenly, it vibrated.

I frowned as another notification appeared, followed by another.

What was that?

Oh no.

My stomach tightened immediately because I didn’t need to check the sender. I already knew who it was. The stalker.

I stared at the messages without opening them. I wanted to turn the phone off again and forget they were there, but another notification appeared, followed by a photograph and I froze.

The picture showed me entering my room only minutes earlier.

I could see the same clothes I was wearing now, the same expression on my face, even the exact moment when I’d reached for the door. Whoever had taken it had been watching me closely enough to know where I was and what I was doing.

A message appeared beneath it. "Still crying?"

My fingers tightened around the phone but I didn’t reply.

I placed it facedown on the bed and tried to ignore it, but another vibration came almost immediately. "Ignoring me now?"

I stared at the message without saying anything. My first instinct was to switch the phone off. Then another picture arrived.

Without thinking, I opened it before I could stop myself and fhe blood drained from my face.

For several seconds, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at. Then I recognized the room, the bed and the people in the image, and my entire body went cold.

It was a wide shot of two people in a bed clearly having sex. But that wasn’t what scared me. It was the fact I recognized those faces all too well.

My face twisted in pleasure as sweat drenched my body, while my stepfather hovered above me, the look on his face being one of pure pleasure and exertion.

My hand began shaking. "No..." The word barely left my mouth.

I dropped the phone onto the bed as though it had burned me and immediately stood up.

The brothers. I needed to tell them. I needed someone to see this. Someone had been watching me closely enough to take that picture, and if they could get an image like that, then they had access to things I had believed were private. I reached for the door before stopping and my hand remained on the handle.

All the brothers had to still be at home. They were downstairs. The same people I’d just told myself didn’t care. Not to mention that I had spent so long trying to shut them out.

No.

I couldn’t bring myself to go to them. What would I even say? Would they believe me? Besides, I couldn’t tell them about me and Gareth. No, that would be too weird. I had promised to let that experience slide like it never happened.

I stepped away from the door and paced across the room, running both hands through my hair.

I needed someone, but not one of them. Someone who would simply listen.

My eyes fell on my phone again and a name readily came to mind. Jayden.

I picked it up with trembling fingers and called him.

Surprisingly, he answered quickly. "Nicholas?"

Wasting no time, I went straight to business. "Are you busy?"

There was a pause before he answered. "Not yet. Why?"

"Can we meet?" I asked, a pleading note in my voice.

His voice immediately became more serious. "Of course. What’s wrong?"

I sniffed. "I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. I just need to get out of here."

He paused, "Where are you?"

"Home." I replied.

"I can come over." Jayden suggested.

"No." I glanced toward my bedroom door. "Don’t come inside. I’ll meet you somewhere outside."

For a second, he didn’t speak. "Alright. Just tell me where."

I gave him the location and ended the call before he could ask anything else. I picked up my jacket, slipped my phone into my pocket and opened the bedroom door.

The brothers were all gathered in the sitting room.

Cassian was sitting on one side of the room, Adrian nearby, while Elijah stood closer to the staircase. All three looked toward me the moment I came downstairs.

Elijah immediately took a step forward. "Nicholas, where are you going?"

I didn’t answer.

"Can we talk for a minute?" He asked again but I walked past him. "Nicholas."

I kept going and Adrian stood up. "At least tell us where you’re headed."

Still silent, I didn’t look back. I stepped outside, closed the door behind me and walked through the gate.

Only when I was far enough from the house did I finally take my phone out again.

The photograph was still there.

I stared at it for a few seconds before locking the screen.

I didn’t know who had taken it and how they had gotten close enough to have gotten such a private image.

But one thing was clear. They were watching my every move and they wanted me to know.