Page 164 of Hidden Echoes

I stiffened. The name sent a cold shock through me.

She turned fully toward him now, pleading. “Spare him. He’s just a kid. He doesn’t know anything.”

Nico tilted his head, studying me like I was some kind of curiosity. “Is that so?”

She nodded frantically. “He’s not part of this. He’s—he’s good.”

Nico chuckled, the sound low, condescending. “You think I care about ‘good’?”

Her hands, still bound, clenched into fists. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Ah,” Nico sighed, crouching lower. “But I want to.”

She swallowed hard, her breath shaking.

“I’ll do anything,” she whispered. “Just… don’t hurt him.”

"Do you mean it like this?"

Nico’s voice is almost playful, but there’s nothing playful about the way he steps down—hard—on my arm. A sickening crack splits through the air, followed by a white-hot pain so intense I can’t stop the strangled cry that rips from my throat. Tears sting my eyes, blurring my vision.

"Or something like this?"

His boot slams into my ribs, forcing the air from my lungs.

The pain is sharp, radiating through my chest like fire. I gasp, trying to breathe, trying to move, but my body won’t listen. Another wave of pain rolls through me, and this time, I do scream.

"No!"

Her voice cuts through the agony. The woman—this stranger who, for some reason, cares—cares enough to break. She’s screaming, crying, begging him to stop. Her voice is raw with desperation, cracking on every word.

And all I can think about is how wrong this is.

This woman, who’s known me for only a few days, is crying for me. Fighting for me. While my own mother pretends I don’t exist. While she stands by, vacant-eyed, as her boyfriends take turns using me as a punching bag for the sake of a heroin fix.

I don’t feel worthy of these tears.

But God, they still get to me. They tighten something in my chest, something deeper than pain. Something I don’t have words for.

"Nico, please!" she sobs. "He’s just a kid!"

I wanted to tell her to stop.

That I didn’t need saving.

That begging only made things worse.

Then, suddenly, Nico stops.

He exhales through his nose, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves like he just finished a chore. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes gleam with something cold, something satisfied.

"You’re lucky I’m in a good mood today," he says, wiping his shoe on the ground like my blood is nothing more than dirt. "And not even your little antics are enough to ruin it."

He grabs the woman by the arm, yanking her away. She struggles, reaching for me even as they drag her toward a car.

But then she looked at me.

And in her eyes, I saw it.

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