Page 18

18: Tori

Ryder takes the stairs like a ragdoll tossed by a pissed-off toddler, his body hitting the ground with a gut-wrenching thud that reverberates through the floorboards.

My stomach twists into knots so tight I might as well be a balloon animal.

For a second, my brain refuses to process what just happened. Like if I don’t move, don’t acknowledge it, then maybe it didn’t happen at all.

You're delusional, as usual.

Blaze and Thorne move, but I’m already there, dropping to my knees beside Ryder. He groans, his eyes fluttering open like he’s struggling to find his grip on reality.

"Shit," he mutters, trying to push himself up. His arms shake violently, like a newborn deer on ice, before giving out. "Okay. Ow. That was stupid."

A breath rattles in my chest, something between a sob and a growl, and I grab his face, forcing him to look at me.

"Ryder, what the hell happened? Are you hurt?"

His pupils are too wide, his eyelids heavy, like he’s barely clinging to consciousness. His whole body is slack, wrong. A rush of something ugly and cold slams into my ribs, sending my pulse into overdrive .

Blaze crouches beside me, his entire body coiled so tight it’s like he’s trying to hold himself together by sheer will alone. His jaw is so locked, I can hear his teeth grind.

Not good.

"He must have been drugged," Blaze says, his voice like a blade gliding over glass. "I thought it was weird that he was sleeping when I got home, but I didn’t think much of it. Or about his open window, or even his..." He stops, staring at Ryder, and what I see in Blaze’s face makes my stomach drop.

Pain. Guilt. A rage so sharp it looks like it’s cutting him from the inside out.

"I didn’t think about his pants being half off."

The words detonate in my chest and everything inside me just stops.

Then, a second later, the world slams back into motion—only it’s different now. Worse. My breath is gone. My heartbeat is a sledgehammer in my throat.

I thought he had betrayed me. I had assumed the worst. And all that time—Lila drugged him.

He needed me, and I ran the other way.

He needed me, and I didn't help.

He needed me, and I left him alone...with her .

A part of me wants to break, to sink into the shame, the horror, the fucking guilt . It chews at me, digs its claws deep, whispering that I let this happen. That I should have known. That I should have been there.

I shove it down and force my body to move, knowing Ryder needs us right now. "We need to get him upstairs."

Blaze doesn’t hesitate. He scoops Ryder up effortlessly, like he’s made of nothing, and I don’t even think Ryder notices. His head lolls against Blaze’s shoulder, his entire body limp .

Thorne’s at his side, fists clenching so hard I swear I hear his knuckles pop. He hasn’t said a word, but the silence is deceptive—it’s the eye of the storm.

And when it breaks, it’s going to be brutal.

The rage rolling off them is palpable, so thick it clogs my throat. It’s suffocating, but it’s nothing compared to what’s brewing inside me.

Because Lila did this.

And I’m going to end her for it.

How far did she get? What did she do to him before Blaze got home?

The thought sinks its teeth into me, and I feel something inside me shift . It’s slow, like a door cracking open to a part of me I’ve been keeping locked away. The part that didn’t flinch when I killed Nico. The part that didn’t hesitate when blood was on my hands.

I don’t just want revenge.

I want retribution.

The door to my bedroom swings open with a force that rattles the hinges as Blaze shoulders his way inside, his grip on Ryder tight—but I see the strain in his arms, the white-knuckled grip that betrays the anger barely held at bay. Thorne follows close behind, his posture rigid, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, like he’s already picturing what he’s going to do to Lila when he gets his hands on her.

Blaze lowers Ryder onto the mattress with more gentleness than I expect, but the second Ryder’s weight is off him, he steps back, running both hands through his hair.

Thorne hovers near the doorway, shifting his weight, tension vibrating off him in waves. His fingers flex like he’s holding himself back from breaking something—someone .

I drop onto the edge of the bed, my hands framing Ryder’s face, forcing him to look at me again. His skin is too warm, his eyelids heavy, and his pupils are still too damn wide.

"Ryder, hey, stay with me," I murmur, brushing damp hair from his forehead. He feels wrong—clammy, burning up and too slack in my grip. Too unlike him.

His lashes flicker, unfocused blue meeting mine as a sluggish, lazy grin tugs at his lips. "Sh, ‘m fine, KittyKat. Jus’ a lil’ sleepy."

My throat tightens, a sharp sting burning behind my eyes. "You were drugged, dumbass. You’re definitely not fine."

His chuckle is barely there, weak and slurred, but it’s him, and that makes my chest ache more than anything else. "Well, that ‘splains why I feel like I got hit by a truck."

Blaze lets out a sharp breath, pacing toward the window, staring out into the night like he’s daring Lila to show her face again. Thorne moves to the dresser, arms crossed so tight against his chest I swear he might crack his own ribs. But they both stay silent and let me do all the talking.

I clutch the sheets beneath me, grounding myself before I fall apart. "Lila did this to you. She—she—"

I can’t say it. The words lodge in my throat like barbed wire, burning, choking. Saying them makes it real.

Ryder’s grin falters, something flickering through the haze in his eyes, a moment of clarity breaking through the fog. "She didn’t. Blaze—Blaze got home b’fore she could. She got scared, left through th’ window."

A breath stutters out of me, but there’s no relief. Just something heavier, something darker, wrapping tight around my ribs and squeezing.

I drop my forehead against his, my hands trembling against his cheeks, my thumbs brushing over the stubble along his jaw. "I thought—" My voice breaks. I swallow hard, but the words still come out raw. "I thought you were cheating on me. I thought you wanted her. I thought—" My throat closes as I choke on my guilt. "I didn’t help you."

Behind me, Blaze’s pacing stops. The air shifts, thickening with a rage that isn’t mine. Thorne exhales sharply, a quiet sound, but I can feel the fury in it.

They probably hadn't realized how guilty I feel over this.

Ryder’s fingers twitch, weak, but still him as they brush against my wrist, grounding me before I spiral too far. "Don’t—" His voice is hoarse, slurred, but certain in a way that feels more real than anything else in this moment. "Don’t do that. Don’t make this y’r fault."

I shake my head, my breath coming too fast, too uneven. "How can I not? I should’ve known something was wrong. I should’ve been here. I should’ve—"

Before I can drown in the guilt, he stops me.

His lips press against my forehead, soft, lingering, stopping my thoughts before they can take me under. "You’re here now." The words are barely above a whisper, but they shatter me all the same. "Tha’s wha’ matters."

Behind me, Blaze turns away from the window, his shoulders rising and falling like he’s trying to keep himself from losing it completely. Thorne exhales again, quieter this time.

A ragged breath hitches in my throat, but I don’t pull away. I don’t argue. I just stay curled up with him.

Because I need to hold onto him.

The weight of exhaustion presses against me, but I refuse to move, refuse to let go of Ryder even as his breathing evens out, slow and steady. His body sinks into the mattress, his warmth bleeding into me as I shift, wrapping myself around him like some kind of protective shield. My arms tighten, one hand smoothing over his hair, brushing damp strands away from his forehead as he lets out a quiet sigh.

Blaze and Thorne remain in the room, lingering, a silent promise that they won’t let this slide. I don’t need to look at them to know they’re still wound tight, their bodies coiled like they’re barely holding back the need to do something. But right now, Ryder is what matters.

The door creaks open, and my head snaps up as Gabe steps inside, his usually unreadable face carrying the weight of quiet exhaustion. He doesn’t say anything at first, just lets his gaze sweep over Ryder before flicking to the rest of us.

"I sent Mia home," he finally says, voice low...careful. "She’ll talk to you when you’re ready. But she’s done here for tonight."

Blaze exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "And you trust her to just go home?"

"She’s not a threat," Gabe replies evenly, leaning against the doorframe. "She was never one to begin with."

Thorne folds his arms, exhaling slowly like he wants to argue but can’t find a good enough reason.

"I also called a doctor," Gabe adds, shifting his gaze to me. "Someone who doesn’t work for Diablo. Someone I trust. He’ll be here soon to check on Ryder."

Blaze and Thorne exchange glances, and even though the tension in the room doesn’t lessen, there’s a flicker of something else beneath it. Appreciation… maybe? A reluctant one, but it’s there.

Still, it’s me who finally says it.

"Thank you, Gabe."

His eyes meet mine, steadfast and searching, before he nods once. "Get some rest, Tori. You need it."

I don’t answer. Instead, I glance back down at Ryder, his lips slack, his breath fanning against my collarbone, his body heavy against mine .

I feel the way Gabe lingers, watching us. And for a moment, an odd thought takes root in my mind—he fits. Like a missing puzzle piece, someone who wasn’t supposed to be here but somehow belongs anyway. Like an older brother I never had, someone who's looked out for me from the moment I entered his life. Maybe it’s because he’s older, the anchor that offsets the storm.

But it’s a fleeting thought, one I don’t have the energy to examine right now. Not when Ryder stirs, pressing closer in his sleep.

Blaze steps forward, squeezing my shoulder, pulling me back to reality. "We’ll be right back. Just rest with him."

Thorne doesn’t say anything, but when I glance up, his gaze is softer than it was before. They know I won’t leave Ryder’s side.

I nod, curling in tighter against Ryder as the guys slip out of the room, their footsteps fading down the hall. The front door slams before the house settles into silence again.

Minutes pass, maybe longer. I don’t move, just listen to the constant rhythm of Ryder’s breathing, the occasional twitch of his fingers against my arm. My own eyes start to drift closed when I feel him shift.

"Y’know," his voice rasps against my skin, still groggy but no longer slurred. "If I ever end up in a coma, just make sure no one gives me a sponge bath. E’cept for you. You can do whatever you like to me."

My heart stutters before relief slams into me so hard I almost laugh. But instead, I pinch his side lightly. "Duly noted. But don’t count on it. Blaze would probably sign you up for a full-body scrub just to mess with you."

He huffs a weak laugh, but it’s shorter than usual, and when I pull back enough to see his face, there’s something guarded there.

“She really drugged me, huh?” He sounds so small as he asks, even though he's trying to play it off.

“It seems that way.”

"So," he says, stretching a little, wincing as his body protests. "On a scale from ‘the guys are going to chop my balls off for letting myself get drugged’ to ‘they already took them while I was out,’ where are we at?"

I stiffen. The joke shouldn’t bother me. This is Ryder. He makes light of everything, even his own trauma. But this? This isn’t funny.

"Are you seriously cracking jokes about this?" My voice comes out sharper than I intend, but I don’t regret it. "Ryder, she drugged you. That’s not— That’s not something you just—"

I break off, my throat closing, and for the first time since he woke up, his face shifts.

His easygoing mask falters, just for a second. "Tori—"

"No, don’t ‘Tori’ me," I snap, sitting up just a bit, my fingers still threading through his hair. "You almost—If Blaze hadn’t come home—" My voice cracks, and I hate that it does, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. "You know what almost happened. And you’re sitting here trying to joke about it like it’s nothing."

A long silence stretches between us. Too long .

Then, finally, Ryder sighs, his fingers brushing against my wrist. "I don’t know how else to talk about it."

I freeze.

His voice is quieter now, more honest than I think I’ve ever heard it. "I make jokes. That’s just…what I do. It’s easier than dealing with shit. Easier than—" He exhales, his gaze flickering away before finding mine again. "It’s easier than feeling like a victim."

The breath in my lungs shudders. I know what he means. I understand it more than I ever wanted to.

I swallow hard, shifting so I can press my forehead against his again. "Being a victim doesn't make you weak," I whisper. " Not to me. Not ever."

His fingers curl against my arm, and I feel something crack inside him. The walls he keeps up, the ones he thinks protect him but really just keep him caged.

"Ryder," I say, soft but firm, my fingers brushing against his cheek. "This doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you any less you."

He doesn’t say anything. Just breathes, slow and even, his body relaxing—really relaxing.

"I just—I don’t know how to process this," he admits, voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought...I mean, shit, I never thought someone would even try to—" He stops himself, shaking his head like the words are poison.

I hold him tighter, not pushing, just letting him be.

"Ryder, listen to me." I tilt his chin until he meets my gaze. "What happened wasn’t your fault. It doesn’t take away who you are."

He swallows hard. "I just…don’t want you to look at me differently."

I shake my head, fierce and unrelenting. "I don’t. I never will. If anything, I look at you now and see how strong you are. You’re still you, Ryder. And I still love you."

His breath shudders out of him, and for the first time since waking up, the tension in his body truly melts away.

I brush my fingers through his hair again, gentle, soothing, and he leans into the touch like he needs it more than air.

I won’t let him carry this alone.

Not now.

Not ever.

Before either of us can say anything more, there's a knock on the door, sharp and precise. Ryder tenses beneath me, his fingers twitching lightly over my skin. I barely lift my head from where I’m curled around him.

"Come in," I say softly, my voice raw from everything tonight has thrown at us .

The door creaks open and a man strides in, clean-cut, dressed in dark slacks and a button-down. His calm expression screams he’s seen worse than this.

"This is Dr. Langley," Gabe introduces from the doorway, arms crossed. "He’s going to check on Ryder now."

Langley nods once, setting down a small medical bag and rolling up his sleeves. "Vitals first."

I sit up reluctantly but keep my hand on Ryder’s chest as the doctor pulls out a stethoscope, pressing it against his back, then his chest. Ryder exhales sharply, his muscles coiling like he’s preparing for something worse than just a cold metal disk against his skin.

"Relax, kid," Langley murmurs, clinically detached. "Not here to make things worse."

Ryder snorts, though there’s no humor in it. "Would be impressive if you could."

Langley doesn’t rise to the bait, just checks his pulse and then tilts Ryder’s chin to examine his pupils. The flashlight flickers between his eyes, and Ryder grimaces, squeezing them shut before groaning. "Okay, yeah. Not a fan of that."

Langley hums under his breath. "Tell me what happened."

I exhale slowly. "He was drugged. Something strong enough to knock him out but not keep him under."

I know Ryder is more than capable of answering for himself, but why should he have to?

Langley nods, already pulling out a small vial and syringe. "From the way he’s responding, I’d bet it’s Flunitrazepam. Commonly known as Rohypnol. Fast-acting, metabolizes quickly, leaves you disoriented but functional once it starts wearing off. Drowsiness, confusion, memory gaps." He flicks the syringe, then presses it lightly against Ryder’s arm. "This is just fluids to help flush it out. He needs water, rest, and no alcohol for at least seventy-two hours. "

Ryder hisses as the needle pierces his skin, flexing his fingers like he’s fighting the urge to yank his arm away. "Yeah, well, I wasn’t planning on doing shots tonight anyway."

Langley arches a brow, unimpressed. "No permanent damage," he continues, ignoring Ryder’s usual deflections. "But the mental effects? That’s up to you."

Ryder stiffens beside me, his grip on my wrist tightening briefly. "Thanks for that, Doc. Real sage advice."

Langley looks at him, and for the first time, there’s something like understanding in his gaze. "Pretending won’t change the fact that it happened."

Something shifts in Ryder’s expression. A flicker of something raw before he rolls his eyes, pushing out a heavy breath.

Langley snaps his bag shut. "I’ll leave my number with Gabe in case anything changes. But he’ll be fine. Just keep him hydrated and let him sleep."

Gabe sees him out, the door clicking shut behind them as silence fills the air. I run my fingers through Ryder’s hair again, his body still tense beneath my touch.

"You okay?" I ask softly.

He cracks one eye open, his smirk faint but there. "Well, I’m not dead, so that’s a plus."

I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "Always aiming high."

His smirk fades a bit, his gaze searching mine. "You’re not gonna—like, sit there and stare at me all night, are you?" He tries to make it sound teasing, but there’s something vulnerable beneath it. Like he already knows the answer and doesn’t quite know how to feel about it.

I press a kiss to his temple, my voice firm. "Yeah, I am. And you’re just gonna have to deal with it."

His breathing evens out, his weight sinking into me fully. I hold him a little tighter, letting my own exhaustion creep in .

I press my lips together, voice barely above a whisper as I say, "You’ve always been like fire, Ryder. And fire isn’t meant to burn alone. So let me be here to fan your flames when they start to get small."

"Real poetic there, Sprout. " He shakes his head like he's disappointed with my cringiness, but I see the way the corner of his lips tug, trying not to smile.

"I love you, Ryder."

"I love you, too, Victoria."