Chapter 64: Leashed

The plastic grocery bag handles cut into Raph’s fingers as he unlocks our front door. He steps inside first, holding the door open with his foot so I can follow him into the narrow hallway. The apartment is quiet, the air smelling of the damp wood and old carpet that defines our building.

"Leo!" Raph calls out, his voice instantly shifting into that warm, friendly tone. "We're back. Got the milk and bread your mom asked for."

Leo’s crutches click against the linoleum as he emerges from the small living room. "Hey, man. Thanks for doing that. Mom called me from the store, said her manager forced her to stay until eight to cover a call-out." He looks over Raph's shoulder at me, his eyes lingering on my face for a second. "You okay, Maya? You look white."

"I'm fine," I say, my voice flat. I walk past Raph, purposely avoiding contact with his arm, and take the grocery bags to the kitchen counter. "The bus was just crowded."

Raph sets his toolbox down on the kitchen table with a metallic thud. He unbuttons his senior blazer and drapes it over the back of a chair, rolling up the sleeves of his white t-shirt. "The traffic was brutal, Leo. I made sure we stayed close so she didn't get pushed around in the crowd."

Leo nods, but he doesn't smile right away. He leans heavily on his crutches, his gaze shifting between Raph's calm expression and my hands, which are shaking slightly as I take the milk carton out of the plastic bag and place it inside the refrigerator.

"Right," Leo says slowly. He sits down at the kitchen table, propping his injured leg onto a spare stool. He watches Raph open the plastic toolbox and pull out a cordless drill and a set of silver grab bars. "Raph, about that sports clinic you mentioned at dinner last night. Are you sure your dad can get me an appointment? I don't want to get my hopes up if it's just a casual connection."

"100 percent sure," Raph says, checking the battery on the drill. The motor gives a short, high-pitched buzz. "My dad’s firm handles the shipping and equipment logistics for their three major facilities uptown. The head orthopedic surgeon is a personal friend of his. I already texted him this morning during second period. He said he’d look at your charts as soon as we drop them off."

Leo rubs the back of his neck, a mix of relief and skepticism in his eyes. "That's huge. The hospital doctors told me I'd have a permanent limp if the scar tissue hardens. If this guy can actually get me back on the ice, I owe you everything, man."

"You don't owe me anything," Raph replies, offering an easy smile. "We're neighbors. We look out for each other." He looks over at me, his dark eyes catching mine as I shut the refrigerator door. "Maya, can you go into the bathroom and clear off the ledge by the shower? I need to map out where the studs are before I start drilling the tile."

"I'll help you," Leo offers, starting to lean forward to grab his crutches.

"No, stay down, keep that weight off the knee," Raph says, putting a hand on Leo's shoulder to keep him seated. "Maya knows where the studs are anyway. She can hold the level for me."

I turn around and walk down the short hallway into the small bathroom, my sneakers squeaking against the floor. The space is cramped, smelling faintly of lavender soap. I clear the plastic bottles of shampoo and the worn towels off the ledge near the old porcelain tub, placing them on the toilet tank cover.

Raph enters a moment later, carrying the drill and the silver bars. He shuts the bathroom door behind him until the latch clicks, instantly cutting off the view of the kitchen where Leo is sitting. The small space feels hot, the distance between us shrinking to less than two feet.

"Hold this," Raph says, handing me the cold metal bar.

I take it, keeping my arms extended so my body doesn't brush against his chest. Raph lifts the drill, positioning the tip against the grout line between the white tiles. He presses the trigger, and the loud, grinding roar of the drill fills the tiny room, bouncing off the porcelain and stone. The noise is deafening, ensuring that even if I shouted, Leo wouldn't be able to hear me from the kitchen.

Raph drills the first pilot hole, white dust settling over his knuckles. He stops the motor, the sudden silence sharp. He looks down at my hands, which are still gripping the silver bar tightly.

"You were tense in the parking lot," Raph says, his voice quiet but perfectly audible over the low hum of the bathroom exhaust fan. "You looked like you were about to faint when the hockey captain walked up."

"I told you, I just wanted to catch the bus," I say, keeping my eyes fixed on the white dust on the tile.

"You looked at him like he was going to save you," Raph says, his voice dropping into that cold tone. He takes the silver bar from my hands, his fingers brushing against my skin, making me flinch. "He's not going to save you, Maya. He’s a rich kid playing a game. The moment his dad threatens his inheritance, he walks away. He already did it once."

"He didn't walk away," the words slip out before I can stop them.

Raph stops aligning the bar. He turns his head slowly, his dark pupils fixated on my face. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," I mutter, stepping back until my calves hit the edge of the tub.

Before Raph can answer, the muffled sound of my own phone, which I left sitting on the kitchen counter next to the bread bag echoes.

My heart jumps. I move toward the bathroom door, reaching for the chrome handle. "That's my phone. I need to get it."

Raph moves faster. He plants his hand flat against the wooden door, pinning it shut before my fingers can touch the lock. He uses his body to crowd me back into the corner by the sink.

"Stay here," he says.

He turns the handle, steps out into the hallway, and closes the door behind him, leaving me in the small bathroom. I hear his boots walk down the linoleum toward the kitchen. Through the thin wood of the door, I hear Leo's voice.

"Hey, Raph, Maya's phone is buzzing. It's an unknown number."

"I'll take it to her," Raph’s voice replies smoothly and natural. "She left it on the counter."

A few seconds pass. The kitchen is quiet. Then, the bathroom door opens again. Raph steps back inside, shutting the door and locking it from the inside. In his right hand, he holds my phone. The screen is illuminated, displaying a text message from an unregistered number with a city area code.

Raph doesn't hand the device to me. He stands under the yellow ceiling light, his eyes scanning the text.

"Give me my phone, Raph," I say, extending my hand.

He ignores me, his thumb sliding across the glass to open the full message notification. A small, cruel smile touches the corner of his mouth as he reads the words aloud in a mocking whisper.

"I checked the housing registry. My dad’s office hasn’t filed the eviction notice yet. Don’t let him touch you tonight. I’m handling it."

The air leaves my lungs. Jackson checked the registry. He is trying to stop his father.

Raph lifts his thumb and taps the screen twice, his expression blank. I hear the distinct trash-can click of the deletion setting. He places my phone into his own front jeans pocket, then steps closer to me, his broad frame blocking the exit.

"He thinks he's smart," Raph murmurs, leaning down until his eyes are level with mine. "He thinks because his name is Thorne, he can control everything in this city. He doesn't understand how the real world works."

"Jackson is trying to help," I say, my voice rising slightly before I remember Leo is sitting forty feet away. I lower it to a desperate whisper. "The eviction isn't real yet, Raph. His dad hasn't filed it. You don't have anything over us."

"Is that what you think?" Raph asks. He lets out a dry chuckle that sounds hollow. He reaches out, his thumb catching the side of my chin, forcing my head up so I can't look away from him. "Maya, use your brain. Arthur Thorne hasn't filed the eviction because my dad told him to wait. My dad's firm handles the logistics for Thorne's northern development project. They are partners."

I freeze, my skin turning cold under his touch.

"Do you know what happens if I call my dad right now and tell him that Jackson is still talking to you?" Raph asks, his thumb pressing into my jawline just hard enough to cause a dull ache. "My dad will tell Arthur Thorne. He will sign the paperwork. The eviction gets filed by nine o'clock tomorrow morning. And that's just the first step."

He pauses, letting the words sink into the silence.

"What about Leo?" Raph continues, his voice dripping with toxic sweetness. "Leo is sitting out there right now, looking at hockey magazines, thinking he's going to get into that private clinic uptown. He thinks he's going to walk normally again. If I tell my dad to cancel that appointment, Leo stays on the public health waiting list. His scar tissue hardens. He spends the rest of his life with a cane, unable to skate, unable to work a real job."

A tear leaks from my left eye, tracking down over Raph’s thumb. My breathing comes in short, ragged gasps.

"Jackson Thorne can't help you, Maya," Raph whispers, his eyes dark and fixed on my face. "Every time he tries to interfere, he just makes things worse for your family. If he touches me, if he tries to stop me from walking you to class, your brother pays for it. Do you understand me?"

I can't speak. The walls of the bathroom feel like they are actively crushing my ribs.

"Do you understand me, Maya?" he repeats, his grip tightening on my chin until I am forced to nod.

"Yes," I choke out. "I understand."

"Good girl," Raph says, his expression clearing as he releases my face. He pulls my phone out of his pocket and sets it face down on the porcelain edge of the sink. "Keep it on silent from now on. We don't need any more distractions."

He turns back to the tiled wall, lifts the cordless drill, and pulls the trigger. The loud, violent roar of the motor fills the room again, masking the sound of my ragged breathing and sobs as I press my back against the cold tile.