Page 191 of Teacher's Pet

"It’s the very thing that’s going to pin his entire death on you."

A sickening weight settles in my stomach. The screen is dark, but even through the glass, I can see it, his dried blood, smeared and flaking along the edges.

I swallow hard, my grip tightening around the device.

"All of this?" I rasp. "All of this because you were scared a child would speak up about your crimes?"

Jake scoffs, his fingers tapping against the wheel again. "The video was incriminating," he says, as if it’s obvious. "That’s why the phone is wiped now. To authorities, it’ll just look like you took a little token to remember your kill."

My vision tunnels.

He’s not just framing me, he’s erasing Levi.

Erasing the truth.

And unless I find a way out of this, no one will ever know what really happened.

"How could you hate your own brother so much," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the car. "That you were willing to do all of this just to prove a point?"

Jake exhales through his nose, fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

"You clearly know nothing about the kind of man our father was," he murmurs, his tone laced with something dark, something almost resentful. "Our father was ruthless. Always choosing Noah, no matter how hard I tried. You think the scars on his neck were bad?" He lets out a humorless chuckle. "Imagine having them all over your body, simply because you couldn’t keep up with your older brother."

My stomach twists.

"And your mother?" I press, hoping, praying, that there's still some shred of humanity left in him.

Jake’s jaw tenses. His eyes twitch.

"She died… of cancer. I was ten. Noah was fourteen." His voice is quieter now, distant, as if he’s slipping into a memory he doesn’t want to relive. "After that my dad pulled us into the family business. He didn’t know how to cope with the loss." A bitter smirk ghosts across his lips. "My mother was the only woman that man ever truly loved."

"So he turned cold," I whisper.

Jake nods once, fingers drumming against the wheel. "And dragged us down with him."

I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle into my bones. There’s something here. A fracture in the mask he wears.

Trying to tap into whatever is left of his humanity, I clear my throat.

"You loved your mother?" I ask, my voice softer now.

Jake’s grip tightens. His lips part slightly before he answers, his voice quieter, rawer.

"Almost as much as my father did," he admits. "Almost as much as Noah."

For a fleeting moment, his gaze flickers, lost in something unspoken, something he won’t allow himself to feel.

But then, just as quickly, he shakes his head, pulling himself back from the edge of that thought. His expression hardens.

"But she’s gone now," he mutters. "And my father’s work still needs to be done."

The moment is over.

And whatever shred of humanity I thought I saw in him vanishes.

"I don’t want to die," I whisper, my breath trembling as it fogs against the icy air.

The words feel foreign, like they belong to someone else. Someone weak. Someone who isn't me.

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