Chapter 6

Axel

I step into Damian’s house, keeping my shoulders tight and my movements small. This place is like a museum of his control. Everything is perfectly aligned, sleek, and cold. If I so much as scuff a baseboard or leave a fingerprint on the glass, he’ll notice. Damian doesn't just like order. He breathes it.

I find Oliver in the kitchen. He looks wrecked. He grips a beer bottle like it’s the only thing keeping him upright and slides a cold one across the marble counter toward me.

"Rough week, bro," Oliver says. His smile is thin and doesn't reach his eyes. "San Elíseo is a disaster right now. I finally get why the last principal bailed."

I pop the cap on my beer and take a long swig. The liquid burns down my throat, cutting through the tension in the room. "That student, Cheska. She seems to have a personal vendetta against you guys," I say, a small smirk tugging at my mouth.

I can’t stop thinking about her. The first time I saw her in the library, she was the picture of innocence. Soft, quiet, and so cute it hurt to look at her. She even stumbled over her words when I caught her from falling. But the next time I saw her with the guys, the switch flipped. She was all fire and sharp edges. A total brat.

"It’s weird how fast she shut me down as a tutor," I mutter, leaning against the counter. My chest tightens just thinking about the way she looked at me like I was dirt under her shoe.

Mateo rolls his eyes, using a keychain opener to crack his own drink. "She’s been hating on me for a year. I don’t even know what I did. She’s stubborn as hell."

"Wait," I say, putting my bottle down. "How well do you guys actually know her? She treats you all like she wants to watch you crawl."

It’s fascinating, really. A girl that age having three grown men wrapped around her finger without even trying.

"I met her a month ago," Damian says. He doesn't look at us. He just stares at the TV, flipping channels until he finds the basketball game.

"I’ve got a year on you," Mateo chimes in. He shakes his head at the memory. "We collided in the hallway while I was holding a hot coffee. It spilled all over me. Instead of apologizing, she blamed me for being in her way. Then she just walked off laughing with her friend."

I whistle, genuinely impressed. "Damn. I didn't see that coming."

"I just met her Monday," Oliver adds with a heavy sigh. "First day at San Elíseo. The way she talks back? You’d think she owned the damn school."

I stay quiet, but I’m thinking. She’s only a nightmare when she’s facing them. There’s a reason for that friction. There’s always a reason for that kind of heat. We’ve been friends for seventeen years. These guys are the best men I know, yet she treats them like villains.

"Anyway," Oliver says, trying to break the heavy mood. "Damian, how’s the wife?"

The air in the room turns to ice. Damian goes rigid. His jaw sets so hard I think his teeth might crack.

"Isn't it obvious?" Damian asks. He doesn't move his eyes from the screen. Mateo and I exchange a look. The silence is deafening.

"Sorry," Oliver stammers. "I just thought you two were having a fight."

"Ex-wife," Damian corrects. He tilts his head back and drains his beer in one go. "We’ve been separated for six years."

He stands up without another word and walks out of the room. We watch him go, stunned.

"I had no idea they were divorced," Oliver whispers, looking at us for answers.

"Join the club," I reply, feeling a sudden restlessness. "He never said a word."

Mateo nods, staring into his drink. "I’m not surprised. He never loved Amara. You could see it in the way he looked past her."

He’s right. Damian was never soft with her. But then again, Amara was a special kind of toxic. I still remember the night she got wasted and tried to bribe Mateo to sleep with her. His best friend. It was disgusting.

Ever since Mateo told us that, we all stopped talking to her. We never told Damian. We figured it wasn't our place to blow up his life if he was already checked out.

The room stays silent until a phone lights up on the coffee table.

Speaking of the devil. It’s Amara.

"Damian, your phone’s ringing," I call out, glancing at the screen. "It’s Amara."

No answer from the hallway. Just the persistent, annoying buzz of the phone. We all sit there, watching it glow like a live grenade.

"Did you ever tell him?" I whisper to Mateo.

He just shakes his head and looks back at the TV, his face a mask of indifference.

The phone lights up again. Two new notifications.

"Anyone know his passcode?" I ask. They both shrug.

I take a gamble and punch in his birthday. The screen slides open instantly. "Same code since high school," I mutter. My heart is racing, a mix of guilt and pure curiosity driving me as I tap the messages.

"If he kills you for touching that, we're not helping you clean up the blood," Oliver warns.

"Cowards," I snap, but my eyes are glued to the screen.

Amara: Why is our son at a party again? Can’t you actually discipline Kier for once?

My brow furrows. Our son? Kier isn't even Damian’s biological kid. I never understood why he kept taking care of her child after the split.

Amara: Don't just sit there. Go pick up your son right now!

I feel a surge of anger for my friend. She’s the mother, but she’s acting like a demanding boss. It’s her responsibility, yet she’s still pulling Damian’s strings.

The screen lit up again. I swiped it open, and a video started playing. My heart stuttered. It was Kier. He was pressed against a girl, their mouths locked in a messy, desperate kiss.

I leaned in closer, my stomach dropping as I caught a glimpse of her face. Dark, wavy hair. Those unmistakable hazel eyes.

"Fuck," I breathed. "Is this Cheska? The girl from the library?"

The nausea hit me instantly. I scanned the background of the video, trying to place the location.

"Mateo," I barked, shoving the phone toward him. "Look at this."

"Bro, I don't want to see whatever teenage drama is going on," Mateo said, pushing my hand away.

"No, look at the background. Look at the girl."

I forced the phone into his grip. Mateo’s eyes went wide. The color drained from his face.

"Holy shit," he muttered. "That’s her. That’s Cheska." He zoomed in, his thumb trembling slightly. "And this house. This is just on the next street over from Damian’s."

I nodded. My pulse was a dull thud in my ears.

Oliver peered over his shoulder. "Are we actually going to tell him?"

"We have to," I said. "Amara just texted him to go pick up Kier. The kid is literally right next door."

The heavy click of boots on hardwood echoed through the hall. Damian walked back into the living room, his presence instantly soaking up all the oxygen. He stopped dead, his gaze landing on the phone in my hand.

"What the hell are you doing with my phone?" his voice was a low, dangerous blade.

He stepped forward and snatched it back. I watched his face as he read the messages and watched the video. His jaw tightened so hard I heard the bone pop. He didn't look away from the screen as he walked toward the window, staring out toward the back of the property.

"Based on the lights, the party is just a few houses down," Mateo said.

Damian let out a sharp, jagged breath.

"Stupid kid," he whispered. He tossed the phone onto the leather couch like it was trash. He pulled off his blazer, leaving him in a thin white shirt that stretched tight across his shoulders. "I don’t know if I’m more pissed that you went through my phone or that Kier is over there making out with some girl."

"Wait up," I said, a dark grin spreading across my face. "The game is almost over, but this? This is way more interesting than basketball."

Damian rolled his eyes. "Bastard," he muttered, but he was already heading for the door. We followed him like a pack of wolves.

The air outside was cool, but the bass from the music two streets over was a physical vibration in the ground.

"Are they even going to let us in?" Oliver asked.

"It’s a student party," Mateo growled, his voice thick with irritation. "And if I’m right, Cheska is the one hosting it."

We didn't have to fight our way in. We just walked through the side gate into the backyard. It was chaos. Sweat, cheap booze, and too many bodies. We spotted Kier almost immediately. He was back at it, his hands all over a girl, but it wasn't Cheska.

"Did she leave?" Oliver asked, looking at Damian.

Damian shook his head, his eyes scanning the crowd with lethal precision. "She can't leave. This is her father’s house. She lives here."

The four of us fanned out, searching for a girl who was barely five foot three. Then, as if pulled by a magnet, we all turned toward the far corner of the yard.

My breath left me.

There she was. A guy with bright red hair was pressed against her. He was trailing his tongue down her chest, licking the skin right above the neckline of her top while holding a shot glass. He downed the drink, took the lime wedge from between Cheska’s teeth with his own, and smashed his mouth against hers.

I gasped, the sound lost in the music.

This wasn't the girl from the library. This wasn't the shy, stuttering thing I caught in the stacks. She looked like a different person. She looked like a sin.

"Kier."

Damian’s voice was a low growl that cut through the noise. Kier pulled away from his girl, looking annoyed until he saw Damian standing there like an omen of death.

"Not again," Kier groaned.

I looked at Oliver and Mateo. They were frozen, their eyes locked on Cheska, unable to process the girl in front of them. When I looked back at her, she was finally looking at us. Her face went bright red. For a second, I saw a flash of that library girl, the shame burning in her eyes as she looked away.

Before she could move, two guys behind her tipped a bucket of ice water over her head.

"SHIT! THAT'S COLD!" Cheska screamed, jumping back.

The words were raw and sharp, totally at odds with her innocent face.

"Cops are coming!" Oliver suddenly yelled, stumbling back toward us, out of breath.

The backyard turned into a stampede. People were sprinting in every direction, tripping over lawn chairs and each other.

"Are you serious?" the guy next to Cheska asked, looking at me. I stepped into his space, my face inches from his, giving him a look that made him stumble back. "Chill, bro. I'm going."

The redhead tried to grab Cheska for one last kiss, but another guy shoved him hard, stepping between them.

"Relax, Asher," the newcomer said, pulling Cheska behind his back to shield her.

"Fine, whatever," Asher spat, disappearing into the dark.

In seconds, the yard was a ghost town. It was just us. And Cheska. She stood there, drenched and shivering, her eyes pinned directly on Damian.

"Does your father know you’re throwing a party here?" Damian asks.

His voice is low. Dangerously low. I can see the muscle jumping in his jaw as he fights to keep his temper in check. Damian doesn't do chaos, and this backyard is the definition of it.

Cheska shakes her head, her wet hair sticking to her neck. "N-no, but I wasn't—"

"Save the excuses, Cheska," Mateo interrupts. He steps toward her, his shadow looming over her smaller frame. "You think your little lies are going to save you every time? None of your reasons ever make sense."

I just shake my head. Mateo is fed up, and it shows in the way he stares her down.

"You have no right to talk to my sister like that," a voice snaps from behind us.

We all turn at once. A guy is standing there, eyes narrowed, looking ready for a fight.