The Keys to freedom

Old wounds

The end of the school day had come, and the parking lot buzzed with the usual sounds—cars pulling out, students shouting their goodbyes, engines revving as the crowd slowly thinned. Pyke sat motionless in his car, hands gripping the steering wheel, but his eyes were fixed on the rearview mirror. The reflection staring back at him looked just as lost as he felt. Sleep had become a stranger, slipping further out of reach with every passing night.

He was at war with himself.

On one side, there was her—the girl who had once been his entire world, the one he had handed his heart to without hesitation. And when she walked away, she hadn't just left; she had gutted him, taking pieces of him he hadn't known he could lose. Yet despite the ache she left behind, despite the silence and the space between them, he still felt bound by a loyalty to her that refused to die.

And then there was his father—the man who had carved the path beneath his feet. The man who demanded obedience like a birthright and saw loyalty not as a gift, but as a debt to be paid in full.

He wished he could split himself in two—honor them both, hold on to both. But deep down, he knew one had already let him go. And that truth tore him apart inside.

His gaze wandered, drifting across the parking lot, before it landed on her. She stood there near Grayson and Jessper, arms crossed, her posture casual but guarded. She leaned against the truck, her eyes lost somewhere in the distance. Her. The afternoon sun caught in her dark curls, the breeze lifting them gently.

Then something caught his eye, pulling his focus like a magnet.

Draven.

He stood a few cars back, leaning lazily against the hood of his car smoking a cigarette, but his posture was deceptive. He wasn't just looking at something. He was watching.

The way Draven's eyes followed her, the way he studied her every movement, sent ice through Pyke's veins. His gaze wasn't just interested—it was predatory.

And then—like a puzzle snapping together with sickening clarity—everything clicked.

Pyke had seen that look before. He had noticed the way Draven's attention lingered on her, the way he always found an excuse to stand too close, to brush against her in passing. The way he talked about women like they were things to be taken, not people to be respected.

Had it been him?

A wave of nausea curled in his gut, but it was quickly burned away by something far stronger. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white.

Would Draven really go that far? Would he betray him—his own friend, his own teammate—just to satisfy whatever twisted desire festered inside him?

The thought alone made his vision blur with rage.

And in that moment, he didn't care about consequences.

He threw the car door open and was moving before he even had time to think, his legs carrying him across the parking lot with a single purpose. His blood pounded in his ears, drowning out the noise of students and idling engines.

Jessper, popped a bubble with her gum before kicking a loose rock across the pavement. "Where the hell are James and Eric?" she muttered.

"Taking a test," Grayson answered without looking up.

She narrowed her eyes. "And how do you know that?"

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because I'm supposed to be taking the test."

Before he could react, Jessper reached up and smacked him across the back of the head. "If you get kicked out, I swear I'm gonna kick your ass."

Grayson grumbled something under his breath, turning toward Oz but she barely registered the exchange. She was too caught up in her own thoughts, as she shifted her weight against the truck, absently kicking a loose dirt with the toe of her shoe.