32

Alice dove to the floor with a theatrical front flip, followed by an awkward barrel roll, before sliding under the bed like a fugitive. Her heart raced as the door burst open, and the room filled with overlapping voices. She froze, barely daring to breathe, her body pressed against the dusty floorboards.

From her vantage point, she could only see their feet, but the voices gave them away: Zoe and Reece were arguing about something mundane—probably whose turn it was to buy snacks—while her brother Jamie’s voice dominated the group. He seemed to be delivering some kind of impassioned monologue about a guy called Zeke.

“Zeke is so overrated,” Jamie said, with the righteous conviction of someone declaring a revolution. “He’s not even that woke—he’s just a poser who says all the right things online. Bet he doesn’t even know what praxis means.”

“Maybe… you know… knock next time,” Adam interjected irritably. “I could’ve been doing anything in here.”

“Oh, like what?” Reece teased. “Having another imaginary threesome with Freya and Andrea?”

“You’re just jealous,” Adam shot back, his tone laced with mock bravado.

Alice blinked in surprise. A threesome? She felt a strange twist in her stomach—a little needle of jealousy she didn’t want to acknowledge. Maybe he’s lying, she tried to reassure herself.

“Were you looking at porn?” Jamie asked bluntly, his words cutting through the banter.

“Look,” Adam said, clearly exasperated, “I wasn’t doing anything. I’m just saying, I could’ve been.”

“He was deffo looking at porn,” Jamie declared, prompting a round of laughter.

Alice rolled her eyes beneath the bed, trying to block out their chatter. She was beginning to think the worst was over when the sound of the doorbell sliced through the room.

‘Oh great,’ she thought, her stomach sinking. ‘More people. Just when I thought this couldn’t get worse.’

She heard Adam walk toward the window, his footsteps heavy against the floorboards. He shoved it open, leaning out with a grunt.

“I told you not to come here,” Adam shouted down at whoever was outside.

The heavy thud of footsteps ascending the stairs made Alice’s pulse quicken. The door to the room flew open so hard she thought it might splinter, and a new voice joined the chaos—a grating, nasal tone that carried the kind of desperation Alice recognized all too well.

She peered out cautiously, rising just enough to see what was happening.

The newcomer stood in the doorway, his hoodie pulled tight around his face, a mess of tattoos snaking up his neck and onto his jaw. His sunken cheeks and darting eyes gave him the look of someone who hadn’t slept—or eaten—in days.

“You don’t come to my house,” Adam barked, advancing on him with a fury that made Alice shrink back instinctively.

“Mike didn’t reply to my message, man,” the guy whined, raising his hands defensively. “What was I supposed to do?”

“You meet me in the park. When we arrange it,” Adam said coldly. “You don’t just show up here. I’ve already got enough shit from social workers and the police as it is.”

The guy seemed to regain some of his nerve as Adam’s tone softened, squaring up to him like he wanted to prove something.

“Well, you just tell your cunt of a bro—”

He didn’t get to finish. Adam’s fist collided with his face in a sickening crunch, sending him sprawling onto the lawn.

Alice gasped silently, her hand flying to her mouth.

Adam wasn’t finished. Before the guy could even get to his knees, Adam delivered two swift kicks, his heavy boot connecting with sickening precision. Blood spattered onto the pavement, stark and vivid against the damp concrete.

It was the first real fight Alice had ever witnessed. The scraps at school seemed almost laughable in comparison—boys grappling awkwardly, their slaps and shoves more comical than threatening. This was something else entirely. This was brutal.

Horror movies had never bothered her; she’d watched people get dismembered, gutted, and burned alive on screen without so much as flinching. But this was different. This was real.

‘Stop him!’ Alice thought desperately. She glanced at the others. Gary was built like a tank—surely, he could pull Adam off. But he just stood there, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Reece, meanwhile, was glued to his phone, scrolling as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

‘Who the hell checks social media during a fight?’ Alice thought angrily.

To her surprise, it was Jamie who stepped forward.

But what he did next made her blood run cold.

Jamie crouched beside the guy, leaning in close to inspect his battered face.

“Wow,” Jamie said, his voice filled with twisted admiration. “You almost punched his teeth out.”

Then, to Alice’s absolute horror, Jamie pushed his fingers into the guy’s mouth.

The muffled screams of pain sent a shiver down her spine.

“Pull them out,” Adam said, his tone disturbingly casual.

‘Don’t do it,’ Alice begged silently. ‘Please don’t do it.’

“Sorry,” Jamie began, and for a brief moment, relief washed over Alice.

“But…” Jamie continued, “I’m gonna have to sit on you. These are designer trousers, and no way am I kneeling in the grass wearing these.”

Alice’s jaw dropped as Jamie sat on the guy’s chest, pinning him down. He began wiggling the two front teeth back and forth, his expression eerily detached, like he was completing a routine chore.

When the task was done, Jamie stood, holding the teeth aloft like trophies. His pleased grin faltered as his eyes flicked up to the window.

“Shit,” Alice whispered, ducking down just in time. Her heart pounded in her chest as she slithered back under the bed, praying Jamie hadn’t seen her.

The voices moved downstairs, the door slammed, and the faint scraping of the back gate signaled their exit.

Finally, her phone buzzed.

Adam: “You can slip out now.”

That was it. No “goodbye,” no “see you later,” not even a single emoji.

‘He’s such a romantic,’ Alice thought, rolling her eyes.

Maybe he was just being cautious, typing quickly to avoid suspicion. Or maybe… that was just his way.

Alice sighed. She wasn’t sure if this kind of bluntness was normal for guys. Then again, she only had Dave to compare him to—and Dave had sent her plenty of sweet messages while secretly cheating on her.

‘I’ll take cold messages over cheating any day,’ Alice thought.

Still, part of her couldn’t help wondering if it was possible to have both: a guy who was attentive and loyal.

Then again, maybe that was too much to hope for.