Page 52 of Hide From Me (Chaotic Love #3)

“Moe!” Caspian’s voice booms through the house like a goddamn thunderclap. Sam and Cordelia push in behind him, guns drawn, scanning corners like we’re still in enemy territory. Laura rushes in seconds later, Jasmine on her heels, and their eyes go wide the second they see Moe.

“Please don’t look at me like that…” He chokes, his voice unraveling.

“Moe—what the fuck—” Caspian yells, going still when he registers the damage.

“He uh–” I clear my throat forcing my focus away from Moe, “He came in like that.”

I can feel it, his stare burning into the side of my face like he's trying to read if I’m saying it as a triggered response from the sins I’ve committed or if I’m just trying to break the invisible string that's tying me to him.

“Clear!” Sharkie yells from down the hall making me jump and Moe, trying to step towards me, pulls my attention again just in time to watch him stumble.

“Jesus Christ, he’s hit. He’s not patched. He didn’t even check in—what the fuck were you thinking?!” Caspian barrels forward and catches Moe just before he hits the floor. Blood smears across both of them. Moe’s practically deadweight as Caspian hoists him upright.

“Clear!” Sam matches as he rushes past Laura and Jasmine back into the living room.

“Why the fuck didn’t you go to medical?” Caspian growls, shaking him gently, panic slipping through the cracks in his voice.

“I was following my light home,” Moe breathes.

He says it like it’s a fact. Like it’s a prayer.

Like it was always supposed to be me. It feels as if my chest is caving in on itself.

I'd love to have the fucking opportunity to google what the natural human response to all these emotions would be, but obviously that's not an option. I raise my arm to my cheek, feeling the heat and wet streak burn into my arm like a memory as I wipe away the tears I’m sure are falling but I can't feel.

Caspian curses under his breath, shoving his shoulder under Moe’s arm, struggling to hold him upright. “We need pressure on this now. Sam—get the med bag. Laura, gauze. Jasmine, stabilize the leg if you can.”

“Raylen…” he says, soft and aching. “Baby, please.”

Laura rushes up slamming a thick gauze onto the wound at his shoulder and he groans low in his throat. But even then, even in pain, his hand reaches blindly for me.

“You need to stay still so they can help you.” I mutter.

Is it fear that makes my voice shake? Is it hurt?

Is it the undeniable fact that in this moment I can't find any other words? Probably all the above. I've seen death–I’ve held it in my hands–and now I’m watching it like an out of body experience creating a scene I’m all too familiar with.

There's a thousand words on the tip of my tongue, a million different ways to punish and express my love for him but it's all too much to handle.

Especially since all my heart is saying is please don't go .

“I was trying to protect you,” Moe says, his breath shallow, teeth clenched. “I didn’t mean to lie. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You have to believe me. Please. You have to believe I didn’t mean to be someone else. I just—I didn’t know how to be me until I met you.”

Laura presses harder and he cries out, face contorting. I almost step forward, almost dropping to my knees then and there, but his features soften like he can sense my next move and it makes me hesitate.

“I’ll tell you everything,” he tries to nod as his fingers flex like there's no more strength left in him to reach again. “I’ll walk away from all of it, I swear to God. I’ll burn it all down if you ask me to. Just don’t… don’t look at me like I’m something you’re afraid of.”

“Please, Moe. Don’t do this to me,” Caspian whispers, voice cracking now. He presses both hands down on Moe’s chest, trying to keep pressure where the blood won’t stop.

“I’m not afraid of you,” I say, but it’s a lie, and I think we both know it.

I’m terrified.

Terrified of how much I still want to run to him. Wrap my arms around him. Beg him not to die. Terrified of how badly I want to believe he’s still mine. Terrified of the version of myself I’ve become because of him—someone who gave too much and asked too little.

He opens his mouth like he wants to say something more, but the fight drains from his body, and his knees buckle again.

Caspian and Sam catch him this time, dragging him down slowly to the floor.

Blood pools around him, soaking into the floorboards I’d scrubbed raw hours ago like they’re mocking me.

“Moe!” My voice cracks—shatters. “Wait—”

His head lolls toward me. Eyes glassy, dazed, almost gone but still, he smiles.

“See? You know it as well as I do…” he murmurs, barely coherent now. “I’m not a monster. Just… yours.”

His eyes roll back, he goes still and everything explodes into chaos .

Caspian starts barking orders, his voice hoarse with panic as he presses both palms over Moe’s wounds.

Sam clears a wide space on the floor, stumbling over the coffee table as he yells coordinates to Jasmine.

Laura’s knees are soaked in blood as she works on sealing the shoulder wound.

Cordelia sits on the floor, cradling Moe’s head in her lap, her forehead pressed to his as she murmurs something only he can hear.

“What’s happening?” I croak, backing into the wall. My knees buckle, but I catch myself.

No one answers me. They’re all too focused. Too trained. Too in it.

But me? I’m just the girl who didn’t know and all I can do is stand here, shaking, heart in shreds, as I watch him bleed out in the middle of what was supposed to be such a safe, happy, hidden space for us, surrounded by people who knew him better than I ever could.

Still… after all of it… all I want is for him to wake up and tell me everything will be okay.

To tell me all of this is some sick, twisted prank he decided to pull.

The truth is, though, that even then, I know I wouldn't believe him because I don’t know what’s true anymore.

I don’t know who he is.

And worst of all… I don’t know who I’ve become.

“Greenport’s chopper is five minutes out—we’re going straight to Seaborn!” Jasmine shouts over the chaos, her voice cracking at the edges. It’s only then that I really see her—mascara streaked down her cheeks, eyes swollen and red, her hands trembling where they clutch her comm.

Everyone looks wrecked. No one more than Caspian who’s hunched over Moe like he can hold him together with sheer will.

His eyes squeeze shut, jaw clenched so tight I think he might break his teeth.

Sharkie reaches for him, trying to steady him, but he jerks his arm away, his hands pressing harder on Moe’s chest, desperate .

“I can’t lose you too,” Caspian chokes out. His head bows until his forehead rests against Moe’s sternum, like he’s praying to whatever god he stopped believing in long ago.

Sam drops down beside him, hands slick with blood as he helps Laura work around Moe’s leg, trying to find the source of the bleeding.

“I can’t find where it’s coming from!” Laura hisses, breath ragged, eyes darting, fingers searching.

“Well fucking look harder !” Cordelia snaps, her voice like ice cracking through the room. Her stare burns into the side of Laura’s face, sharp enough to draw blood if it could.

Sam’s gaze shifts to Jasmine—just a glance—and it shatters her. She crumples, falling to her knees, face buried in her hands. Sam doesn’t hesitate. He crawls to her, blood smearing beneath him as he pulls her close, trying to steady her even as everything’s falling apart.

And me ?

I just curl in on myself. My arms wrapped tight around my stomach like I can hold in the scream clawing up my throat.

Why are they all going still? My head jerks around the room, searching for the next burst of chaos, the next sound, the next proof that this isn’t really happening. But the only movement is Laura’s—precise, focused, hands working like this is just another day at the job.

Maybe… maybe he didn’t lie about who he is.

Maybe this—this wreckage—is who he is without the mask.

And that’s what I saw. The real man. And God help me, that’s the thing I cling to, the one thing keeping me from breaking entirely.

Because there’s no way someone truly evil leaves this kind of gaping hole in so many people.

The sound of the chopper blades starts up outside—a loud, rhythmic wheeling that grows closer, louder. But it’s like I’ve gone numb. All I can do is replay every crooked grin, every whispered promise, every stupid little thing that built this love I can’t stop feeling .

How am I supposed to walk into the diner and not expect to smell pancakes? How am I supposed to look at my car without hearing him bitch about what a piece of shit it is? How am I supposed to go home and not feel the ghost of him in every room?

I was right to call him my monster because he’s created a nightmare around me.

“Come on, Ray! Wake up—we gotta go if you want to be with him!” a voice yells, sharp and urgent, slicing through the fog like a blade.

The words barely register before adrenaline jolts through me like lightning.

I gasp, sitting bolt upright. My heart punches against my ribs, wild and too fast, like it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest. My limbs feel like dead weight, and my head spins with a nauseating twist. The room tilts—off-balance, off-center—and I suck in air like I’ve been drowning.

There’s light. Too much of it. A penlight flares in my eyes, white-hot and blinding, and I flinch, blinking hard as my vision struggles to keep up. My cheeks are wet, streaked with tears I don’t remember crying.

“I swear to fucking God, if something happens to him, I’ll kill you myself!” Caspian’s voice slams into me, more brutal than the light. It’s not the calm, sardonic Caspian I’ve come to expect. This is raw. Unhinged. A cornered animal with blood on its claws and nothing left to lose.