Page 83 of Twisted Violet

“Didn’t have anything better to do,” I answer with a tight smile.

He doesn’t notice.

Niko shows up a minute later, looking like he hasn’t slept. His jaw is tight, his shoulders tense, and he doesn’t say a word. He just heads to the coffeemaker and pours himself a cup.

Dallas sips his coffee.

Rome pokes at the plate in front of him, barely eating.

Niko stares at the floor.

I wipe the counter clean and listen to the silence that builds around us. Full of things no one wants to say. It almost feels normal.

But it’s not, because I know now… I’m not someone they chose; I’m someone they were paid to choose.

So I smile, I clean up, and I do what I should’ve done when I first got here… become the version of myself that’s easiest to deal with.

Because that’s who they really wanted living in their home all along.

The second thebedroom door shuts behind me, the smile drops and my shoulders fall.

I stand there for a moment, pressing my forehead against the door.

God, I feel stupid.

For every touch I mistook for something real. For every night I sat in this room wondering if maybe, just maybe, one of them was thinking about me too. For every second I thought I could build something out of borrowed time and forced proximity.

They were never mine. Not even close. I was just someone they were paid to protect. And God, I tried so hard to be worth keeping.

I shut my eyes for a second, but it doesn’t help. Because the ache isn’t in my head, it’s in my chest. Twisting sharp and slow, like it wants to carve out the part of me that still misses them.

I’m so tired of hurting. I’ve been carrying guilt for weeks, letting it rot inside me and fester, because I didn’t want to be a burden.I didn’t want to give them a reason to pull away and lose what I thought I had. But it turns out, I never had anything to begin with.

So what am I even protecting anymore?

I grab my phone from the nightstand and scroll through my contacts until I land on her name.

Stevie.

I hit the call button, and she answers on the second ring.

“Alex?” She says, her voice sounding a little groggy. “Is everything okay?”

I don’t ease into it or soften the edges.

“I’ve been getting threatening texts,” I say flatly.

There’s a pause. “From who?”

“Unknown number,” I say. “Nothing direct. But it’s him. The man who bought me.”

“How do you know?”

I stare ahead, voice steady. “Because he said he’d come back for me. And now he has. I think he hired my attacker, too.”

I hear the air rush out of her lungs. “Jesus, Alex. When did this start?”

“A few weeks after I moved into the apartment.”