***Alissa Blake***
“No. The answer is no.”
How many times had I said that already? Ten? Fifteen?
Didn’t matter. Cyrus was still there, wearing that calm face like he’d already heard every “no” in the world and still knew exactly how to turn one into a “yes.”
He didn’t respond right away. Just watched me with that damn controlled expression while I paced back and forth in the middle of the empty restaurant—thankfully, there weren’t many people around to witness my breakdown besides a few disinterested employees.
“You think I’m going to agree to this, Cyrus?” I said, voice already raised. “You want me to go back, throw myself into that mess, just to try and fix the damage Holden caused to himself by being reckless?”
He scratched his trimmed beard and crossed his arms, his fingers tapping on a pack of cigarettes, showing how badly he wanted to light one. “Holden’s a wreck right now—worse than it seems. But, Alissa, you’re the only thing keeping him from jumping off the edge.”
I let out a nervous laugh, wanting to rip my hair out.
“Oh, so now I’m the nation’s savior? The emotional babysitter? How nice. Too bad when he decided to release my song without credit, ignore me for weeks, and pretend I didn’t exist, no one treated me like I mattered.”
“Alissa…”
“No, listen.” I pointed a finger at him. “You want me to come back and pretend everything’s fine. Like I’m not hurt, like I don’t have any wounds, like I can just handle a guy who’s spiraling and still smile like nothing’s happened. I’m not that person. I don’t have the emotional structure for this anymore—you know what I’m going through.”
Cyrus, seeing how worked up I was, stood and took a step toward me—not aggressively. He just looked… tired.
“You’re right,” he said, with an honesty that caught me off guard and a worn-out voice. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this. Or be used. Or be in the middle of this mess. But, Alissa… you’re not getting out of this alone either.”
I swallowed hard, staring at him with suspicion.
“Do you have any idea what’s going to happen when your parents find out you accessed those hospital records? When they learn you went after Eva? You think they’re going to let Morgan be alone with you again after today? No steady job, no stability, a record from juvie…?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No.” He sighed. “I’m being realistic. If you want to protect your sister, you’re going to have to play dirty. Just like they do.”
I went quiet for a few seconds.
The worst part was—he was right. I hate admitting that. But he was.
I didn’t have a plan. I had no stability. No one who could stand up and say, “She’s reliable.” All I had was my word, and my word, to these people, meant nothing.
“And what do you want in return?” I asked, sitting back down and finally taking a sip of my cold cappuccino.
Cyrus sat next to me, keeping a respectful distance.
“Just that you stay close. That you get back into Holden’s life and try to keep him in line. Officially, it doesn’t have to be anything serious. Just… be around him backstage, at shows. Make him look functional. Keep him from dying. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“You talk like it’s easy.”
“It’s not. But it’s possible.”
“And if I can’t do it?”
“You already did once. He was never that version of himself, especially not when he saw you again. That was someone else.”
That sentence hit me hard because to me, he was always wonderful. That’s why seeing all that crap on TV shocked me so deeply.
When I was with Holden, he was himself. Not perfect, far from it. But he… tried. He was passionate. About himself. About me. About us.
I leaned my elbows on my knees and buried my face in my hands. My throat burned, and my eyes were too tired from crying.
“I hate this fucking world where you only matter if you’re useful,” I mumbled, voice muffled.
Cyrus stayed silent for a few seconds before answering.
“So do I.”
And that was it.
The most human thing he’d ever said since he showed up in my life.
I stood slowly, wiping my hands on my jeans. “Come with me, I need an hour. I have to say goodbye to Morgan.”
“Alissa…” Cyrus started, but I didn’t want to hear it.
“Okay,” he said at last, giving in.
He went in his car, and I drove the one I’d been using since I got back in town.
I walked into the house in, daze—part panic, part numbness, like nothing was real.
They hadn’t come home yet, so I still had some time.
I went up to my room and shoved everything I could into a backpack. Clothes, toothbrush, documents. My heart was so heavy I could barely breathe. But the worst part was walking past Morgan’s room.
The door was slightly open. The lamp still on, drawings scattered on the floor. The little bed she slept in, still unmade. I picked up a picture frame with her photo. Opened the back, pulled the picture out, and put it in my bag.
I stayed there for a few minutes, fighting back the tears burning behind my eyes. Then I got up, went to my parents’ office, and stole documents. Anything that could help me later—Morgan’s birth certificate, proof of address, church donation records, copies of receipts. They were going to freak out when they saw. But screw it. I’d already lost the most important thing I’d ever found.
I hardly recognized myself, thinking about how much I loved that little girl.
When I got back outside, Cyrus was already in the car.
I gave one last look at the house I grew up in—or was kept in, who? Knows—and got into the passenger seat.
He didn’t say a word, just started driving while I typed the school’s address into the GPS.
When we got there, the security guard recognized me and let me in. But when I reached the front office, the receptionist looked up at me.
And that look told me everything I didn’t want to accept.
“They already came for Morgan?” She didn’t answer, visibly nervous as she picked up her phone to type something. “Hey! Put that shit down and answer me. Is Morgan here?”
She nodded, but when I turned to head toward the classroom, I saw them.
They got there first, of course. “You’ll never see her again, Alissa.” That was my mother. Or rather, the woman who raised me. That degenerate cow.
“I’m going to be patient. I won’t lose control like you want me to. Just tell her I’ll be back to see her.”
She wouldn’t say it. But I had to try.
I pretended to be stable until I got back into Cyrus’s car and slammed the door shut.
He placed a hand on my shoulder and looked at me like he wanted to ask if I was ready.
“We can go.”
He started the engine, and just as we were pulling away, I saw her.
She was holding their hands, hopping in puddles on the sidewalk, with no idea I was in the car across the street.
I wanted to get out, to yell that I’d be back and she had to wait, or me—but I didn’t want to scare her. I didn’t want her to understand too soon that she was caught between two wolves.
So I just watched her as long as I could, until the car had gone far enough that I couldn’t see her little face anymore.
In that moment, I learned I still hadn’t lived through the worst kind of pain-until now.