Chapter 4
Cassie
I came home that evening to find Alex's takeout containers still scattered on the coffee table. Empty pizza boxes, crumpled burger wrappers—he ate like someone who'd been starving.
I dropped my backpack and started gathering the trash. "You're back late," Alex said without looking up from his phone.
"Language project," I lied smoothly. "Group work for my comparative linguistics class."
He grunted, still scrolling.
"I could run you a hot bath," I offered. "Might help with the stiffness."
This time he looked at me. "Yeah. Whatever."
I adjusted the water temperature in the tiny bathroom, adding some lavender bath salts I'd gotten from Mrs. Rodriguez. From my dresser, I pulled out clean clothes—a white t-shirt and sweatpants that had belonged to one of my mother's old boyfriends.
"Water's ready," I called out.
Alex disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the splash as he settled into the tub, followed by a long exhale.
Half an hour later, he emerged, and I had to catch my breath.
His dark hair was damp and tousled, water droplets clinging to his lashes. The white t-shirt clung to his chest, slightly transparent from steam, showing off the lean muscle definition of someone who lived fast and dangerous.
'Hard to believe this is the man who runs Lightning Racing.'
Alex tossed his dirty clothes toward the laundry basket, missing by a foot, then collapsed onto the couch.
I gathered his clothes and headed to the cramped laundry room, making sure to leave the door open. As I sorted through his things, I deliberately pushed up my sleeves, unbuttoned the top of my shirt, rolled up my pant legs.
The bruises on my shoulders were still fresh. Purple fingerprints from where they'd grabbed me. Red marks along my collarbone.
I made sure everything was visible.
Footsteps approached, slow and deliberate.
"Look at you being all domestic," Alex said from the doorway, voice teasing.
"Just seemed like the right thing to do." I kept my eyes on the washing machine.
Silence filled the small space, broken only by the machine's gentle hum.
"Where'd you get those marks?"
His voice had changed. Gone was the casual tone—now it was sharp, focused.
I glanced down at my exposed skin like I'd forgotten. "Oh, these? I was clumsy at the racing club. Bumped into some equipment."
"Racing club?"
"Yeah, I've been hanging around the tracks downtown. Trying to understand car culture for a paper."
Alex stepped closer. "Those look like finger marks."
"You got a boyfriend, Cassie?"
My heart hammered against my ribs as he moved even closer, his breath warm against my neck.
"No," I whispered, my whole body trembling. Not all of it was acting.
"Really?" he said quietly. "College girls should focus on their studies."
"I don't have a boyfriend!" The words exploded out of me, louder than I'd intended.
Alex stepped back, eyebrows raised.
'Shit. Too much.'
I ducked my head, fumbling with the clothes. "Sorry. I didn't mean to yell."
"Why are you getting pissy about it?"
"I'm not." My voice came out small. "Sorry."
I stood to hang the wet clothes, but Alex caught my wrist.
"You in some kind of trouble, Cassie?"
"No." I pulled away. "Everything's fine."
I practically ran to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me.
Alone in my room, I wiped away the tears that had started to fall, then allowed myself a small smile.
'Test complete. Alex, you've definitely changed.'
Perfect.
The next day, I told Alex that a classmate would be coming over to work on our linguistics project.
"You'll need to stay in the bedroom while he's here," I said, trying to sound apologetic.
"He?" Alex's eyes narrowed. "Thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend."
"He's not my boyfriend! Just a classmate."
Alex's smirk said he wasn't buying it. "Sure, sweetheart. I'll make myself scarce."
By the third day, the apartment was silent. Alex's bedroom door stayed closed.
They arrived exactly at midnight, just like Marcus had promised. Six of them this time, including two I didn't recognize.
They reeked of beer and carried more bottles, plus a sheet cake from some grocery store.
"Surprise!" Marcus announced, grinning. "Celebrating our little scholar finishing her finals!"
Before I could react, he upended a beer bottle over my head. The others laughed as the liquid soaked through my hair and clothes.
"What the hell—"
"Don't be ungrateful," Marcus said, shoving me toward the couch. "We brought presents."
His hands pressed down on my shoulders, pinning me to the cushions.
"Look at you, dressed like a fucking nun," he sneered. "Someone needs to teach you how to have fun."
He grabbed a handful of cake and smeared it down my arm. The others pulled out their phones, angling for the best shots.
"This is going straight to Instagram," one of them said. "Maybe TikTok too."
I bit down on my lip, hard enough to taste blood, and let my eyes dart toward the bedroom door.
"Smile, Cassie," Marcus commanded.
Instead, I swung my fist at his face.
The slap that followed made my ears ring. My head snapped to the side, and I tasted more blood.
"You fucking bitch!"
I kept fighting, kept looking toward that closed door.
Another slap. Another. The others held my arms while Marcus's hand cracked across my cheek again and again.
"Stupid little whore," he spat. "Your daddy's debt is our debt now."
Still, I kept glancing at the bedroom.
"What the fuck is she looking at?" one of Marcus's friends said.
He followed my gaze to the bedroom door.
"Think there's someone back there?"
"No!" I screamed, but it was too late.
He was already walking toward the door, shouting threats at whoever might be inside.
The door opened by itself.
Just a slow creak, like something out of a horror movie.
The man took one look inside and fell backward, scrambling across the floor, mouth opening and closing like a fish.
Alex stepped out of the darkness.
The room went dead silent.
Marcus's head snapped around, his face going pale. "What the fuck..."
All six of them stumbled backward, Marcus actually rolling across the floor to get away.
Alex's eyes found mine for just a moment before he sat down on the coffee table, casual as anything.
He looked at each of them slowly, like he was memorizing faces.
I pressed myself into the corner, sobbing.
"Who are you?" Marcus stammered.
"Who are YOU?" Alex's voice was ice.
"I'm with Leon King's crew. We're just here about a debt—"
Alex's foot connected with Marcus's chest, sending him sliding across the floor.
"Chase?" Marcus wheezed. "Mr. Chase, sir?"
I peeked at Alex through my fingers, shaking even harder.
Alex stood up suddenly. He picked up a heavy glass ashtray from the table.
"Get out."
They scrambled for the door, half-carrying Marcus between them.
After they left, I stayed curled in the corner, spitting blood onto the floor.
Then I smiled.
I stood up, cut myself a piece of the cake they'd brought, and sat back down in my corner.
It was actually pretty sweet.