Page 29 of Map of Pain
Their fingers brushed. Nick’s instinct was to jerk away, but he didn’t. The contact lasted maybe a second—not painful, not demanding. Just... contact. It confused him.
He twisted the cap off and took a long drink, using the moment to examine his own response. The cold water soothed his throat, still raw from the earlier panic attack. His mind cataloged the sensations with analytical precision: Luka’s fingers—cool but not cold. The bottle—wet, refreshing. His own reaction—curious rather than revolted.
The broken part that associated touch with submission remained quiet. The hunter that classified all contact as tactical information seemed distant. What emerged instead was simple human appreciation for a kindness offered without strings.
Nick lowered the bottle, meeting Luka’s gazedirectly. “Thank you,”he saidquietly, the words carrying more weight than just gratitude for water.
Nick watched Luka grab a notebook and pen from a nearby counter, the vampire settling himself at the kitchen table with a warm smile. Something about the gesture—the careful distance he maintained, the patience in his posture—made Nick’s chest tighten with an unfamiliar feeling.
He paced the perimeter of the kitchen, cataloging details that soothed him. Two windows: one above the sink, another in the breakfast nook. Deadbolt on the back door leading to what appeared to be a porch. Knife block on the counter. Heavy cast iron skillet hanging from a rack. Three possible exits, four if he broke through the window. The hunter wouldn’t shut up, couldn’t stop mapping escape routes even as another part of him registered the home’s lived-in warmth.
“The girl driving—was that Ophelia Graves?”Nick asked, voice steadier than he expected.
Luka nodded, writingquicklybefore turning the notebook toward Nick: ‘Yes. Ophelia and Matoskah left already. They’ll keep hospital situation private.’
Nick’s fingers traced the edge of the counter, finding comfort in the solid surface.“What about the bodies? The ones who didn’t... survive.”
Luka’s pen moved across the page with unhurried strokes: ‘Ophelia and Matoskah handling everything. Don’t worry.’
Nick hesitated, the question burning in his throat. He stared at the worn floor, gathering courage.“Did she... did Ophelia mention my brother?”
His voice crackedslightlyon the last word. The guilt crashed over him—he’d been so damn useless after losing his hand, hiding in truck beds while Caleb remained with Marcus. But what could he have done? The Society would have killed him on sight, and the infection hadnearlyfinished what they started.
Luka shook his head, then paused. His pen hovered over the paper before he began writing with more deliberate strokes: ‘She didn’t mention Calebspecifically. But—’He stopped, studying Nick’s face as if weighing something. After a moment, he continued. ‘I saw himrecently. He seemed happy.’
Nick’s brow furrowed.“Happy? What do you mean?”
Luka’s expression softened as he wrote: ‘Learning to drive. Wanted to surprise everyone by getting his license.’
“He’s... he got his license?”
Luka nodded, a genuine smile tugging at his lips as he scribbled more: ‘Ophelia taught him. She’s a terrible driver, but Caleb was determined. Said he didn’t want to need anyone to take him places anymore.’
Nick’s stomach churned as the implications settled in. If Caleb was driving, if he was overcoming his deepest fears, what did that say about his life with Marcus? About everything the Society told Nick?
“Is Marcus hurting my brother?”The question burst from him, sharp and desperate.
Luka’s eyebrows shot up, genuine shock transforming his features. His pen movedrapidlyacross the page, pressing hard enough that Nick could hear the scratch against paper: ‘Marcus would walk into the sun before hurting Caleb. Or we would shove him. Caleb is loved by everyone in our family.’
Nick stared at the words, reading them twice, three times.
Family.
The word lodged in Nick’s mind like shrapnel. Caleb found a family while Nick had been trapped in a nightmare of his own making. The Society convinced him that Caleb was being manipulated, abused, controlled—that Marcus was just another Gianmarco with better PR.
But what if they were wrong? What if Henderson lied to keep Nick motivated? What if Caleb wasactually... happy?
Nick’s stomach twisted. The words on the page made no sense. Marcus loved Caleb? The Society had always said—
But what if they lied?
The thought made him sick. If they lied about this—about everything—then what was he? What had he done?
A sharp spike of pain lanced through Nick’s head, his vision shimmering at the edges. His hand shot out to grip the counter as his knees threatened to buckle. The room spun around him, reality warping under the weight of his crumbling beliefs.
Marcus loves Caleb. Caleb is happy.The statements felt impossible, heretical even. The Society’s narrative—the one that fueled his every action for years—lay in ruins around him.
The hunter reared back, louder than before, desperate to reclaim control.Lies.Manipulation.They’re playing you.The voice hammered at him, relentless and furious.Don’t be stupid.Don’t fall for it again.
