"Is he crazy?" Josephine asked as I scrubbed away the last remnants of paint that covered our house. "Did he think you'd say yes?"

I'd just told her about the offer Reed had made me if you could call it that. To me, it was crazy talk. The words of a man who was practically invincible but didn't realize it.

After I obviously said no to him, he'd tried to help me clean but if I was being honest, I didn't really want him around. Between everything that happened in the past and the added recent accusations, the last thing I needed was to be seen together. Maybe it was a little unfair to blame the attack on him since it wasn't like he asked to get shot, but things always spiraled when he was involved. Reed had this way of pulling chaos into his orbit, whether he meant to or not, and I wasn't looking to get caught up in that storm again.

"Yeah, he's crazy," I muttered, scrubbing harder at a stubborn patch of paint. "He thinks everything can just go back to the way it was."

Josephine let out a low whistle, shaking her head. "After everything he's put you through? That's rich."

I didn't have to ask her what she meant. She'd seen it all, witnessed the years of back-and-forth, the hurt and frustration that came with being tied to someone like Reed. If I was being honest, his actions weren't even what pissed me off the most. It was the fact that he genuinely seemed to believe that he hadn't done much wrong. Sure, he might have owned up to a few mistakes, but it was all surface-level. He'd only do one of two things: deny any wrongdoing, or apologize without truly understanding what he'd done for the sake of damage control and then try to sweep it under the rug because that's what he was taught.

That was why he'd visited today, after all. It was the same pattern: offer a halfhearted apology and then act as if cleaning up a few spray-painted insults and trash would make up for everything.

"Do you think he'll give up?" she asked after a moment.

I paused and considered her question. He'd been avoiding me like the plague since the ceremony and it wasn't wrong of her to assume he'd go back to doing that, but if I knew Read like I thought he did, then that wouldn't be the case. "I doubt it. He never knows when to quit."

Reed couldn't handle people being upset with him. He never said it, but I always thought it went back to his fear of losing everything he had. His insecurities had probably grown since his brother left as well.

Josephine looked at me with a hint of sympathy. "You don't owe him anything, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know." I nodded, tossing the rag aside. "It's just—"

"What the hell happened to your face?!" Josephine cut me off with wide eyes.

For a brief moment, I thought she was talking to me until I caught a subtle whiff of Barrett's scent which he seemed to be trying to hide. I turned around and my stomach dropped when I saw what she meant.

Barrett stood in the doorway, his usual composed demeanor shattered by the bruises swelling across his face. Blood was smeared along his jawline, and his shirt was torn, dirt clinging to the fabric.

"Barrett!" I rushed over to him, panic rising in my chest. "What happened?"

He waved me off, trying to downplay the situation. "It's nothing. Just a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding doesn't look like that," Josephine said, stepping closer. "Who did this to you?"

Barrett's jaw clenched, and for a moment, I saw that familiar flicker of pride in his expression. "Doesn't matter. I took care of it."

But I could see the way he winced with every movement, the pain he was trying to hide. Whoever did this hadn't gone easy on him. I couldn't just stand by and watch him shrug it off as nothing, not when it was clear he'd been through something serious.

"Barrett, you're hurt," I insisted, my voice softer now.

He shook his head. "I'll be fine, really. You've got enough going on with Reed."

I blinked, surprised that he brought up Reed of all people at this moment. Josephine shot me a look and the familiar feeling of dread returned.

"Did...did this have anything to do with the accusations going around recently?" I asked carefully.

"No," Barrett instantly replied, but he couldn't meet my eyes—a tell-tale sign he was lying.

"Barrett..."

He broke and said, "I wasn't just going to let them call you a criminal, Dash."

No, no, no. This was exactly what I didn't want to happen. I didn't want him and Josephine involved. I didn't want my family to be hurt again.

"I don't need you to go around trying to defend me," I told Barrett quietly and he sighed.

"Can we just drop it? What's done is done."

I didn't get the chance to argue more before Josephine placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Barrett wordlessly followed her into the house, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I didn't want Barrett involved in whatever was happening between the pack and me. Even if he was nineteen and we were only a year apart, he was still my little brother and I wanted to keep him safe.

The pack being pissed at me was one thing. Mom always said Dad adored this pack and I could deal with the animosity until the real perpetrator was found, but messing with my family? I couldn't sit by and watch that happen; however, it would continue until the real attacker was found, and if they weren't ever found...

Taking a seat on our small patio, I pulled out my phone, and against my better judgment, I scrolled down to the contact I hadn't touched in what felt like ages. I tapped on the name and past messages stared back at me, reminding me of my own naivety. Seeing them made me want to change my mind, but I needed this disaster to end before it got worse for my family. So, instead of turning off the phone, I typed out a short and simple message.

Dash: Meet me where we used to sneak off to as kids tonight.

⚡︎

For as long as I could remember, the old, one-story house had always been abandoned.

There wasn't anything special about it. Reed and I always used it for a meeting spot because it connected to the path and was a good halfway point between both of our houses and since the surrounding buildings were larger, they blocked us off from nosey visitors, making sure it was just us.

The house was a...complicated place for me. So many memories I once deemed good happened here, but now they felt tainted; ruined.

Reed was already waiting for me when I arrived. He stood near the doorway, leaning against the weathered frame of the abandoned house like nothing had changed between us. Seeing him there, in that familiar spot, stirred up a mix of emotions—frustration, anger, and a deep sense of loss. For a second, it almost felt like we were kids again, sneaking out to escape our problems, but I knew better.

"You're late," Reed joked, his tone light, reminding me how we always met at eleven sharp.

I ignored the comment, crossing my arms. "I didn't come here to reminisce."

Reed straightened, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Then why did you come? I thought you made it pretty clear you didn't want anything to do with me."

"I don't. But I need this to stop, Reed."

His brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Barrett," I snapped. "He's getting caught up in all this crap. He's defending me against the accusations and getting hurt in the process. I can't have that happen."

Reed's face softened, guilt flickering in his eyes. "I didn't know about Barrett. Dash, I—"

"Stop." I shook my head. "I don't want another apology or excuses. What I want is to put an end to this."

"Does that mean—"

"I'll help you find whoever attacked you in the woods that day, but let's get one thing clear. It's not because I like you. It's for mine and my family's sake."

The words left my mouth and Reed stared at me almost as if I was a stranger. Like being here, in this place, and not seeing the version of me who always tried to make him happy was such a jarring thing even though my anger had been apparent for months now.

Something about being here made it real to him.

"Dash, I..." his voice trailed off.

"You what?"

He didn't say anything for a while. His eyes dropped and his foot thumped against the ground—something I'd noticed a long time ago that only happened when he was deep in thought or blinded by his feelings. He was usually good at controlling it.

"...I'm going back to work tomorrow, but text me if you find or hear anything," he finally replied and forced his foot to still.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah, that's all," Reed muttered, looking anywhere but at me. There was something different in his voice—like resignation. The confidence I was used to seeing in him was gone, replaced by something more fragile, more human. Maybe it was realizing that things between us had truly changed—that I wasn't just mad, I was done. But I didn't have the patience or the energy to dig into that.

"Good," I finally replied. "Then we'll talk when there's something worth saying."

Without waiting for him to respond, I turned around and headed back down the path toward home, never once bothering to look back.