Chapter 82

Chapter 82


\[BRIAN\]

When I pull up at Ava’s old address, I have only one goal in mind.

To find Max and get the hell out.

Why? Because this place always gave me the creeps. Not only is it the most notorious part of the city, but it’s also slightly dangerous.

When Dean and his family went bankrupt years ago, I did everything I could to convince him to take the apartment I arranged for him.

But Dean, being Dean, refused. He tried to convince me—or maybe himself—that their downfall was only temporary, that it wasn’t going to last long, and soon enough, he would be back to reclaim his business and house.

But we all know none of that happened. And day by day, I saw the hope literally wipe away from his eyes.

Anyway, I turn off the car and climb out. I try calling Max again but frown when I find no signal on my cell.

“Dammit! When the hell will this place get some fucking upgrade?”

I shake my head and shove the phone back into my pocket.

I head inside the building and take the elevator to Ava’s old apartment.

When I reach the flat, I ring the bell.

I wait, wait, and wait for more than five minutes but get no response.

I ring the bell again, then again, and again.

But it’s the same. No response.

‘That doesn’t look right,’ I think to myself and heave a heavy breath out.

“Where the hell are you, Max?” I check my phone again but still find no signal.

I have the strongest urge to break the door. But if Max were inside, he would have answered by now. And that means he’s clearly not here.

But what if he’s locked inside, waiting to be rescued?

Because God knows, ever since that attack on Ava, nothing seems implausible.

I press my forehead against the door, my pulse pounding harder by the second.

“Come on, Max…” I mutter under my breath, running a hand through my hair.

I check the doorknob. Locked. Of course.

I could go back to the car, try calling him again once I’m out of this dead zone. But every second wasted gnaws at me. What if he is inside? What if he’s hurt?

“Fuck it,” I hiss.

I lift my foot and slam it hard against the door, right beside the lock.

Thud. Nothing.

“Come on…” I grit my teeth and do it again, harder this time.

CRACK.

The door gives way, swinging open with a groan. I step inside, heart pounding as I scan the dimly lit space.

“Max?” I call out, my voice echoing through the silence.

No response.

My eyes sweep over the room, and I realize not much has changed since my last visit.

Sure, it doesn’t look like the place has been taken care of, but nothing looks out of order either. A typical boy’s room.

“Who are you?”

Suddenly, a voice comes, and I turn around just in time to catch a young woman standing next to the now broken door.

“What… the hell are you doing?” She looks at the door, then at me, and then back at the door. “Why did you—?”

“You know Max?” I ask, not having enough patience or time on my hands. “The guy who lives here. Do you know him?”

“Yes?” she says, taking a step back when I take a step forward. “What do you want from him?”

I stop. Alright. Maybe I need to calm down a little. I take a deep breath. “I’m looking for him. It’s important that I find him. Do you know where he is?”

“Why are you looking for him?” Her voice is cautious now, her posture shifting like she’s ready to bolt if I make a wrong move.

I exhale slowly, trying not to sound as desperate as I feel. “Look, I’m not here to hurt him. I’m a friend.”

“Breaking down his door doesn’t exactly scream friendly,” she mutters, her gaze flicking to the splintered wood.

Fair point.

“I didn’t have a choice.” My jaw tightens. “I couldn’t get through to him. His phone’s dead, and no one’s seen him. I’m worried.”

She stays quiet for a moment. “Why should I believe you? You could be lying for all I know.”

I don’t know what to say to that—or how to convince her otherwise.

But just when I think I’d be better off finding that boy myself, I remember something that might just do the trick.

I pull out my cell phone and scroll through the images. I don’t find the one I’m looking for, but I do find something that might prove I know Max in a good way.

I show her the screen of my phone, a picture on display.

It’s the picture from Ava’s birthday last year. Max and I are standing on either side of her as we both shove a piece of cake into her mouth.

The moment this girl sees the picture, her eyes widen. “Wait. I know her. She’s Ava, right? Max’s sister?”

“Yeah.” I nod, lowering the phone but keeping my grip tight. “That’s Ava. Now, would you believe me? I’m just looking for him because Ava and I are worried he might be in some kind of trouble. And if you know something, this would be the perfect time to tell me.”

Her eyes flicker with hesitation, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag again. I can tell she’s weighing her options, deciding whether she can trust me.

“Look,” I sigh, trying to keep my frustration in check. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I just need to find Max before something happens to him.”

She glances at the door one more time, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then, finally, she speaks.

“I know where he is.”

“You do?” I can’t explain the amount of relief that washes over me just hearing that.

“Yes. And I can take you to him. But if you do anything stupid—and by stupid, I mean trying to hurt him—let me just tell you that I’m a black belt, and I can very well take you on if I have to.”

“Noted,” I say, raising my hands slightly in mock surrender. “No funny business. I’m just here to help.”

She narrows her eyes, clearly not convinced yet. “Good. Because if Max trusts you, that’s one thing. But if you give me a reason to doubt that trust…” She trails off, but the warning in her tone is crystal clear.

“Understood.” I nod, keeping my voice steady. “Now… where is he?”

She hesitates for a moment, like she’s deciding whether or not she can really trust me. Then she exhales, her shoulders relaxing just a little.

“Come on.” She turns and starts toward the hallway. “He’s back at my apartment.”