Page 220 of The Obedient Lie
“Nope,” she said. “And I’m not trying to.”
I stood in the doorway, watching him spiral. Watching her push him.
This wasn’t about the shirt. Or the suitcase. Or even the flight.
This was abouther.
Because she was leaving, and Luca couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t plan around it. Couldn’t schedule it into a pretty little checklist the way he’d done with everything else in his life.
Packing was the only thing he could still control—and she was ripping it out of his hands one crumpled over expensive fashion piece at a time.
“Luca,” I said quietly.
He didn’t answer. Just folded the hoodie again—tighter this time—then opened a new section of the bag and reorganized everything she’d touched.
“You’re gonna have to let her pack like a menace, man.”
“She’s not a menace,” he muttered.
“Did you just see hersocks? She threw them like confetti.”
She smirked at that, still sprawled on the bed like she wasn’t lighting fire to every nerve in his body.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” she said, softer now. “It’s not like I’m coming back.”
That was the problem.
We werenotcoming back.
Not to this room. Not to this campus. Not to her.
Seven more days, and we’d be flying to Villain for good. Taking our place in the empire. Setting up territory. Managing our inherited kingdoms like loyal sons of the dynasty machine.
We’d already been flying in and out more—meetings, site inspections, estate preparations. And every time we left, it got harder to return. Not because we didn’t want to. But because coming back toherwas starting to feel like waking up inside a dream we knew we were about to lose.
Vince noticed first.
“Why the fuck are you two dragging this out?” he’d asked a week ago, flicking ash into a tray like he wasn’t gutting us with every word. “You’ve already got the keys to the city. You’re stalling.”
We didn’t answer him.
Nik just leaned back and said, “Let ’em have two more weeks of fun.”
As if that’s all this was.
Fun.
As if she was just a college fling, a reckless twin fixation we’d forget once the skyline of Villain swallowed us whole.
But she wasn’t fun.
She was the thing killing us slowly.
Every new laugh, every stretch of bare skin under soft light, every time she let us touch her, hear her, love her—ruinedus.
We hadn’t told anyone it was her. That this was why we were clinging to academy walls like boys who hadn’t already bled men.
But Nik knew.
