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The mixture of rage and nausea isn’t going away. My hands are shaking, my vision is hazy at the edges, and I can’t get the images out of my mind. Kyle turned something beautiful between Ryder and me into something tainted with his sick obsession. He twisted what was ours into a way to try to take back the upper hand and exert control over us.

And what it’s doing to Ryder is fucking gutting me.

Nothing he’s done to this point compares.

Ryder’s gone completely still beside me, except for hissilent tears and shaky hands. He looks utterly and completely defeated because Kyle tried to strip him down to nothing, and make him feel exposed in a way I can’t fix.

And that’s what makes me so angry. I will never, ever be able to erase the fact that his first blowjob was watched and recorded without his knowledge or consent.

The words from the email play on a loop in my head, each repetition fanning the flames of my anger.

I know you’re confused right now. He’s been filling your head with lies and pulling you away from who you really are. But this? This isn’t you, Ryder. I’m disappointed in you. But let me be clear, if I see him with you again, I won’t be so understanding. And trust me, neither of you wants to find out what happens then. I’d hate for either of you to get hurt because you didn’t listen. This is your last warning.

Ryder saw the email come through first. Kyle took it to an entirely new level that was not okay.Noneof this is okay, but this is fucked up even for him. I could tell as soon as I watched Ryder’s face pale that something was wrong.

When I asked what happened, he didn’t answer. Just turned the laptop in my direction, and I could see a video clip pulled up. I knew before he even pressed play what it was. He did too.

I read the message, and my stomach dropped; the words not fully registering until he clicked play. Then a cold, violent fury spread through my chest as I watched the screen.

It was us. Last night. Ryder was on his knees between my legs, looking up at me with my cock in his mouth. That sick fuck must have watched the whole thing because I only lasted a couple minutes at most. The way he violated us for his sickagenda makes me nauseous. He has turned one of the most intense, raw, and incredible moments of my life into something tainted.

I hadn’t even considered being watched last night. Not once. Because why the fuck would I? We were in my apartment, in our goddamn space, living in artificial light because the curtains are always closed, but there was a crack in the curtain. He was so invested that he filmed through that sliver of an opening. It’s deranged.

A stuttered breath draws my attention back to Ryder, and he looks like he’s on the verge of tears. I can be furious later because right now, I need to be there for him. I reach for his hands, lacing our fingers together. I can feel his pulse hammering, and I need to pull him back to me.

“Ryder,” I say, my voice steady. “Hey. Look at me.”

He does, and fuck—the devastation in his eyes guts me.

“This doesn’t change anything,” I soothe, squeezing his wrists. “He doesn’t get to take this from us. He doesn’t get to make you feel ashamed for something that was ours.”

Ryder sucks in a shaky breath, his expression cracked wide open. “But he saw it, Logan,” he whispers. “He watched us, and now he’s holding it over our heads. What the fuck is he even going to do with this video? What about his threat?”

I don’t know. I honestly don’t, and that kills me.

My gaze flicks back to the screen, and there it is. The fucking edge of the curtain in the corner of the frame. They’ve been closed for days. I didn’t even think to double-check before we did anything in the living room. I only wanted to make him feel good.

“Fuck!” I roar, raking my hands through my hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Ryder. This is all my fault. The curtain—I should’ve checked.”

“No,” Ryder says sharply.

He stands, stepping in front of me, and grabs my face with trembling hands, forcing my gaze to his.

“Don’t do this,” he says. “Don’t put this on yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

But it is. I should have been more careful. I should have checked. I should have known?—

“He did this, Logan,” Ryder says, cutting through my thoughts. “This is what he does. He wants us to feel like this. Exposed. Humiliated. He wants us to be scared, and he wants us to be obedient, to stop being together. And now he’s got the blackmail he’s been waiting for. But I don’t want that, Lo. I don’t. I don’t care what he says, I want to be with you, so I’m going to be.”

I nod in agreement. “All I want to do right now is find him and make him regret ever fucking breathing near you,” I snarl, attempting to point my anger at Kyle instead of myself.

“Get in fucking line,” Ryder bites out, but it’s not at me—it’s at the sick bastard who did this. “I want to find him and end this myself. Fuck him for thinking he can do this.”

I grab him and pull him into me, holding him so tight against my chest I can feel every furious breath he takes. “I know, baby,” I whisper into his hair. “I know.”

For a moment, he lets himself cry, grabbing my hoodie and burying his face into my shoulder. All I want is to take his pain and hurt away. I’d carry every goddamn ounce of it if it meant he didn’t have to.

He pulls back and looks at me, his cheeks blotchy from tears and anger. “I’m not ashamed,” he says, sounding so sure of himself. “Not of what I did. Not of you. Not of anything in that video. Fuck him for trying to make me feel like I should be.”