Page 253 of Rosetti Family New York
I haven't seen Lucas since that afternoon at his house, at Maddy's house, when we promised to investigate her death together. He was going to pull himself together, out of the swamp of grief, and then we would confront Ethan together. So much has happened since then, and he hasn't replied to any of my messages or taken my calls. And the closest thing to a message I've received from him was when I saw his name listed as a co-owner on Maddy's bank account.
I desperately search his face, hoping to find some flicker of the Lucas I've known most of my life, some trace of the boy who made terrible jokes to cheer me up, who once punched a kid who called me a dog-killer, who cried openly when Maddy got into her dream school. Maybe there's still an innocent explanation for everything. Maybe his name on that account meant something else entirely. Maybe I've misread all the warning signs.
But the man before me is almost unrecognizable. The Lucas I knew was always solid, dependable despite his occasional moodiness. This Lucas looks hollowed out from the inside, skin stretched tight over his bones like he hasn't eaten in weeks. His clothes hang off him, and the shadows under his eyes have darkened into bruises. He looks haunted. No, hunted. Like someone who's been running from something terrible and has finally been cornered.
"You came," Lucas says, his voice a mess of grief and anger.
His eyes flicker to Rafe, and Rafe's hand tightens around mine. The protective gesture steadies me, gives me strength I didn't know I needed.
It should feel colder up here, but the chill doesn't sink in. Nothing does.
"Of course I came," I say, my voice tight.
The last time I was up here was with Maddy and Lucas and a bunch of friends from college, drinking sparkling wine and watching the sun set over the city while we celebrated finishing our exams. Seems like a million years ago.
Lucas doesn't smile. I'm not sure he knows how to anymore.
"I need to tell you something," he says, desperate and rushed. "Before they get to me. Before I get myself killed."
Rafe tenses beside me, but he doesn't say anything. His silence is a threat.
"Then tell me," I say.
I step closer, my pulse pounding like a hammer. I've practiced this moment in my head a dozen times on the way over. What I would say, how I would react if my worst fears were confirmed. But now that I'm here, facing Lucas, all my rehearsed responses evaporate. I'm left with nothing but raw instinct and the desperate hope that I'm wrong about him.
Lucas looks like he might break apart, shatter right in front of me.
"I fucked up, Sloane," he says. "I fucked up so bad."
My chest is tight. I can barely breathe. I look at him, waiting for the blow to come.
Lucas's voice is flat, a sound already resigned to defeat.
"I gave them access to her account."
At first, I blink, the words not quite registering.
"What?"
"Maddy. Her name. Her bank login. I gave it to them," he confesses quietly.
The gravity of his words hangs in the air, ephemeral yet heavy, like smoke refusing to dissipate.
"You did what?" I demand, my voice cutting through the silence.
He rushes his next words, as if speeding through them could somehow lessen their sting.
"They offered me a cut. Said it'd be quick. Just a way to move some money, nothing traceable. They were using the fight ring, and she was so removed, so innocent and untouchable, so it made sense. She wouldn't even notice—"
I interrupt, my voice icy.
"She noticed."
Lucas nods, shame flooding his features.
"Yeah. She did. She came to me, furious. I told her I'd fix it. That I'd shut it down. But I didn't. I let it ride. I needed the money—"
Rafe steps forward, his voice low and dangerous.
