Page 57 of Fractured Loyalties
I pick at the hem of my skirt, not trusting myself to look at him, feeling as confused as I did last night. “Why are you being so nice?”
Roman shrugs. “Why not?” He glances at the clock, then at me again. “Besides. You’re the only family I’ve got.” He says it asif it’s a joke, but I hear the truth buried in it, like a seed trying to sprout in concrete.
I don’t know what to do with that, so I just sit there, hugging my bag, and staring at the dashboard.
Roman notices. His eyes narrow but remain warm. “Ivy…” he starts, but then stops, as if maybe he just remembered that I’m not supposed to matter this much or something.
I clear my throat, trying to cut the tension. “If you’re gonna psychoanalyze me every morning, you could at least buy me coffee.”
He chuckles, and I hate how much I love the sound. “Next time, Little Lamb.”
A horn blares behind us. Roman’s smile disappears in a flash, replaced by the cold mask he wears for the rest of the world. He pulls his hand away.
“Go on,” he says. “I’ll see you after school.”
I nod and open the door, already bracing myself for the blast of cold. I swing my legs out and then force myself to move. As I step away from the car, Roman rolls down the window. His voice is quieter, so only I can hear it.
“Break a leg, Ivy. And if anyone fucks with you, tell them I’ll put their head in a blender.”
It’s so over the top I can’t help but snort. I turn, and for a split second, Roman’s face is pure affection. Then, it’s gone, the window rolling back up and the car already in gear.
I stand there for a second, dizzy with whiplash, and watch the back of the SUV as it shrinks down the street. For a moment, I almost forgot how fucked up everything is.
Almost.
Because the moment I step into the school… I feel as if something isverywrong. The energy is all bad—and it’s directed at me.
Random kids, who have never talked to me before, are suddenly staring, elbowing, and whispering to their friends. Some burst out laughing as I pass.
And it just keeps happening.
By the time I get to my locker, my stomach is rolling. I fumble with the combination twice before getting it open, and inside I find a single sheet of notebook paper, folded with surgical precision.
I glance up and down the hall, but no one is watching now. Or rather, maybe they’re all watching, but only from the corners of their eyes. I unfold the paper.
There’s nothing on it but a URL.
For a second, I just stare at it. Then, against every instinct, I pull out my phone and type it in. The link loads instantly. It’s a video.
And my heartdrops.
Ten seconds in, I see myself in my own bedroom, naked and raw and so fucking vulnerable it makes me want to scream. The angle is from the side, grainy, tinted red, but unmistakable and focused entirely on my face. Roman, my fuckingbrother,is on me, but shadowed, and only fragments of him are visible.
He’s unrecognizable.
But me? I’m clear and knowledgeable. My voice, begging and gasping. My face, flushed and desperate and ruined. My breasts are on full display, bouncing beneath him. I feel the blood draining out of my skull. My knees buckle, and I slam the locker shut just to stay vertical. Around me, the hallway has gone silent, except for the soft, electronic buzz of more notifications lighting up more phones.
Why would he do this to me?
I want to vomit. I want to claw out my own eyes. Mostly, I want to smash my phone, but I just stare at the screen, watchingmyself play out on a loop, the views racking up with each passing second.
Behind me, someone coughs. I spin around to see Tess, her face pale, her eyes big behind those dumb black glasses. She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. I can see the apology there, the embarrassment, and the fucking horror.
“Did you…” I start, but my voice cracks. “Did you watch it?”
She shakes her head, but then nods. “I… Well… someone sent it to everyone,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s on the student group chat. And Reddit. And…” She gestures helplessly, as if the number of places it’s been posted can be contained by the sweep of her hand.
Blair saunters past, making a show of not looking at me. Her group trails behind, each one flicking their hair or biting their lips, perfect in their cruelty.
