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He collapses beside me, his chest rising and falling like he’s been sprinting, and for a long moment, neither of us speaks.

I shiver, chilled now that the heat of our bodies has dissipated. My jeans are soaked through, my sweater streaked with dirt. I feel myself breaking apart, unraveling at the seams.

“Everything about this is fucked.” Flint props himself up on one elbow, watching me. “You have no idea who I am. Who Damiano is. Who we are. Thewe… is fucked.”

Chapter 20

Flint

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Someone’s applause echoes through the clearing, slow and mocking and close enough to make my heart lurch. I bolt upright, fear cutting through the haze of spent adrenaline.

“Well done,” the person says. “Encore?”

Damiano steps into view, his silhouette emerging from the dark maze like a grim specter. His expression is one of sardonic amusement, but it’s underpinned by hurt, raw and seething.

“What the fuck, man?” I spit the words, scrambling to pull my jeans up, the soil cold against my skin.

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for good performance art.”

Briar sits up beside me, her eyes wide as she hastily buttons her sweater. “Damiano, I?—”

He cuts her off with a smile that’s more like asneer. “Did I interrupt couples’ night at the cemetery?”

I stand, anger surging. “No one asked you to hang around and watch.”

“No? Looked like your own private revenge porn.” He flicks his gaze to Briar, a wounded animal before turning predatory. “You know, like when you walked in on us the other night. Tit for tat, right Flint?”

His words hit like a punch to the gut. He believes this was my way of getting back at him, making him pay. And why wouldn’t he? It’s exactly the kind of toxic game we’ve played before.

“Jesus, Damiano.” I step toward him, unsteady on my feet. “You think I’d do that?”

He barks a laugh. “You’ve done it before.”

Briar tenses next to me, and guilt cuts through my anger. I did this. I let it go too far.

Damiano stares at her, his expression twisting. “I thought you were different, Briar, but maybe you’re the most fucked out of all of us.”

“I’m not,” she says, though lacks any fight.

“Then what is this? Just another way to feel dangerous, slumming it with two lowlifes?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then enlighten me. Please.”

I step between them, my eyes locked with Damiano’s. “That’s enough.”

He shakes his head, backing away slightly. “I knew you were a mess, Flint. It’s your definingcharacteristic. But dragging her into this—Jesus. Do you even know who you are?”

“Stop it,” Briar snaps. “Both of you.”

Damiano’s eyes flash. “Tell me, Briar—was that your way of erasing the memory of fucking me? Or are you just in the habit of screwing whichever of us is closest?”

Her face goes white, and I see the moment she decides she’s not going to be the fragile princess of Damiano’s imagination. Her voice is steady, but there’s tremor beneath it. “Fuck off. Last I checked, you and I aren’t exactlycourting.” She takes a calming breath. “But… I’d never purposefully try to hurt you.”

His expression softens, just for a moment. “But you did.”