Chapter 75 Chapter 75

Chapter 75 Chapter 75
Tito's POV

When I opened my eyes again, the living room was dark except for the soft glow of the kitchen light leaking across the tiled floor. I blinked, disoriented for a moment, trying to remember how I ended up on the couch.

My body felt heavy, the kind of exhaustion that sinks into your bones and refuses to lift easily.

I pushed myself up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and that was when I noticed the faint clinking sound coming from the kitchen—soft, familiar, comforting in a way that made something warm and fragile flutter in my chest.

I turned toward the light.

And there she was.

My mom stood by the counter, stirring something in a small pot, her hair tied in that loose bun she always resorted to whenever she was tired but still restless. Even from here, I could tell she looked slightly sun-brightened, her skin glowing in a way that meant she had genuinely enjoyed her trip.

“Mom?” My voice came out small—still thick with sleep, but also a little shaky.

She turned, startled at first, and then her entire face melted into one of the softest smiles I’d ever seen.

“Oh, Tito,” she breathed, and before I could take another step, my feet moved on their own. I rushed forward and wrapped my arms around her waist, burying my face in her shoulder like I was five years old again.

She smelled like lavender lotion and airplane fabric and something summery I couldn’t place. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her until right this second.

“Welcome back,” I whispered, trying not to sound like I was falling apart on the inside.

She hugged me back immediately, squeezing a little too tightly. “My baby… you’re awake.”

I pulled back just enough to look at her. “How was your vacation?”

The spark in her eyes brightened instantly. “Oh! Let me tell you—Kendrick made everything so easy, you wouldn’t believe it. He paid for my therapist to come with me. Did you know that?”

I blinked. “He did?”

She nodded, stirring her food again, excitement buzzing around her like static. “Yes. She was wonderful. And the resort—Tito, I’ve never seen anything like it. The beach was right outside my room, and the towns… I could walk at night and feel completely safe. We went sightseeing, and—oh!—we even took a guided hike. I didn’t think I could do it, but I did.”

She talked and talked, painting the scenes in vivid strokes—crystal water, soft sand, warm breezes, the laughter of strangers who became travel friends, the taste of food she’d never tried before. I watched her the entire time, memorizing the glow in her eyes, the way her face came alive when she spoke.

“You really had fun,” I murmured, my chest tightening, but this time with something tender.

“Yes,” she said softly, turning to face me fully. “I really did.”

Her voice shifted then, calmer, more focused. “But enough about me. How have you been? How’s school?”

And just like that, the air thickened.

My mind flickered—dark hallway, cold hands, the snap of a gun, Jax’s voice, the smell of sweat and dust, the scream caught in my throat. I felt the edges of the memory scraping too close, threatening to flood me.

I blinked hard. Once. Twice. I forced the images back down where they couldn’t choke me. Not now. Not in front of her.

“School?” I repeated, steadying my voice. “School is… fine.”

She looked at me with that mother stare that saw everything. “Are you sure? You look tired.”

I swallowed, nodding quickly. “I’m just stressed. You know how it gets. Tests. Teachers. People being annoying.”

She studied me for another heartbeat, then nodded slowly. “Alright. But if anything happens—anything—you tell me. Don’t shut me out.”

“I won’t,” I lied softly.

We stayed like that for a moment—her searching my face gently, me pretending to be whole. And then I stepped back and yawned, partly real, partly strategic.

“I should sleep,” I said quietly. “I… I kind of missed Kendrick too, so I think I’m just out of it.”

She smiled again, brushing a curl behind my ear. “Then go rest, baby.”

I hugged her one more time and headed for my room, closing the door behind me carefully.

But sleep didn’t come easily.

My thoughts spun—memories twisting with fears and flashes of Kendrick’s calm voice, Damien’s sharp eyes, Jax’s twisted grin. Eventually exhaustion dragged me under, but even then, my dreams were a blur of running and headlights and silver eyes that steadied me.

Going back to school after everything that had happened felt like stepping into a world that had stayed still while I had been dragged through chaos. The morning sunlight slanted across the hallways the same way it always did. Students laughed in clusters. Teachers shuffled papers. Lockers banged open. The school smelled like disinfectant and too much perfume—normal.

Painfully normal.

I walked through the halls with my backpack slung over one shoulder, pretending I wasn’t still flinching at every sudden movement. Pretending my scars were invisible. Pretending my heart wasn’t racing every time someone brushed too close.

I caught up on the assignments I’d missed, forcing myself to focus on the quiet scratch of my pen against paper instead of the tension clawing my spine. People asked where I’d been—curious, nosy, harmless questions—and I shrugged them off with vague lies.

“Family trip.”
“Wasn’t feeling well.”
“Needed rest.”

No one pressed, thankfully.

At lunch, I found Chloe. She lit up immediately, waving me over.

“Finally!” she said dramatically. “I was starting to think Kendrick locked you in that mansion forever.”

I laughed softly, sitting next to her. “It’s not that serious.”

She gave me a side-eye. “I still don’t understand him. Or you. But anyway—did you see the new rumor going around?”

I nodded absently, only half listening. My mind was drifting again, back to Kendrick’s voice coaching me through tight turns, Damien’s soft expression when he left my room last night, the cold pressure of Jax’s hand on my face.

Chloe kept talking, switching topics faster than my brain could track, but hearing her voice, familiar and normal, anchored me. It reminded me of what life used to feel like. What it could feel like again, maybe.

But the contrast was sharp.

Because while Chloe stressed about tests and cafeteria drama, my brain replayed the moment I thought I wouldn’t live to see another sunrise. I wasn’t the same girl who left school last week. And no matter how much I wanted normalcy, I could feel danger still lurking at the edges of my life—like a shadow that refused to leave.

That evening, when I finally got home, I sat on my bed and opened a blank journal. I didn’t even know why. Maybe because the words felt trapped in my throat. Maybe because I needed somewhere safe to put them.

I wrote slowly at first.

The kidnapping.
The fear.
The guilt.
The strange, complicated safety I felt with Kendrick.
The unexpected warmth from Damien.
The confusion in my chest I hadn’t been able to name.
The way everything felt like it was changing too fast.

My handwriting trembled across the page, but I kept going, letting the truth pour out in pieces.