7. Lena

7

LENA

THIRTEEN YEARS OLD

Three years later…

T he hallway bustles with high school drama, but I keep my head down, clutching my books. Four years with the Wilsons have taught me how to stay invisible.

“Hey, charity case!” Jessica Martin’s shrill voice cuts through the crowd. “Where’d you get those shoes? The dumpster?”

Heat rises to my cheeks as I glance down at my worn sneakers. The other girls snicker, forming a circle around me.

“I heard her parents were drunks who crashed their car,” one of them whispers loud enough for me to hear.

My throat tightens. “That’s not true.”

Jessica steps closer, her perfectly manicured nails reaching for my textbook. “What are you going to do about it, orphan?”

A shadow falls over us. The temperature in the hallway drops ten degrees.

“Back off.” Talon’s voice is quiet but carries an edge that makes Jessica’s hand freeze mid-grab.

I don’t need to turn around to know it’s him. After four years, I can sense his presence like a storm rolling in.

Jessica’s face pales. “We were just talking.”

“No, you weren’t.” Talon takes another step forward, towering over her. His presence fills the space, dark and threatening. “Touch her again, and you’ll regret it.”

The girls scatter like leaves in the wind. Even the other students press against the lockers, giving him a wide berth. Nobody meets his eyes.

Talon doesn’t look at me, but his hand brushes my shoulder as he passes. It’s the closest thing to comfort he allows himself to show in public. The touch sends warmth through my body, chasing away the chill of Jessica’s words.

I watch him disappear down the hallway, his tall frame cutting through the crowd like a knife. Other students whisper about him—the troubled foster kid, the one who gets into fights, the one to avoid. But they don’t know him like I do. They don’t see how he continues to take beatings meant for me or how he leaves half his dinner by my door on nights when Mr. Wilson sends me to bed hungry.

I lean against my locker, watching Talon’s retreating form. The crowd parts for him like he’s Moses, and they’re the Red Sea. My heart still races from the confrontation, but a different kind of flutter takes over when I think about how he stepped in.

“Thank you,” I whisper, knowing he can’t hear me from this distance. But I’ll tell him later like I always do. And like always, his response will be the same.

During lunch, I spot him at his usual table in the far corner of the cafeteria. No one sits within twenty feet of him. I slide into the seat across from him, pushing my apple toward his tray. This is the first time we’ve attended the same school, and I’ve only been here for a few weeks.

“You didn’t have to do that this morning.”

His blue eyes flash up at me, cold and distant. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I ask, even though I know Talon hates it whenever I thank him for anything.

“You know what. I don’t need your thanks,” he growls.

“But you keep protecting me. That means something.”

“It means nothing.” He pushes my apple back. “I do what I want when I want. Don’t mistake it for kindness.”

His constant pushing me away stings, but I’ve grown used to it. Talon may say he doesn’t care or isn’t one of the good guys, but I know deep down he’s got a soft side.

“Whatever, you like me, really,” I tease.

A muscle ticks in his jaw. “I’ve gotta stick up for you because you’re my foster sister.”

“I don’t believe that’s the only reason,” I retort. “You stand up for me all the time . Even at school. It means you care.”

He glares at me. “I have my own reasons for my actions, not because I care.”

“Which are?”

“Selfish ones.” His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge. “I’m not your guardian angel, Lena. The sooner you understand that, the better.”

But I’ve seen the way his hands shake after defending me. I’ve noticed how he positions himself between me and danger without hesitation. There’s something beneath that spiky exterior, which he wraps around himself like armor.

“I don’t believe you,” I say quietly.

His eyes meet mine, and something flickers in their depths for a split second—an emotion I can’t name. Then it’s gone, replaced by that familiar coldness.

“That’s your first mistake.” He stands, leaving his untouched lunch behind. “Don’t make me prove you wrong.”

The plastic lunch tray scrapes against the table as Angela drops into Talon’s vacant seat. Her curly red hair bounces as she settles in, unwrapping her sandwich.

“What were you two talking about?” She takes a bite, watching me with curious green eyes.

I poke at my untouched apple. “Nothing, really. Just thanking him for this morning.”

“What happened this morning?”

“Jessica Martin and her minions cornered me in the hallway. Started saying stuff about my parents.” My fingers clench around the apple. “Talon stepped in and made them back off.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!” Angela’s face lights up. “He’s your guardian, big brother, always looking out for you. Must be nice having someone protect you like that.”

My stomach twists at her words. If she only knew what our home life was really like. The bruises Talon hides under his long sleeves. The sounds of Mr. Wilson’s belt late at night.

“Yeah,” I force a smile. “Like a brother.”

But the word feels wrong on my tongue. Brother doesn’t explain the electricity when his hand brushes mine. Brother doesn’t account for how my heart races when our eyes lock. Brother definitely doesn’t cover the dreams I’ve been having lately of him kissing me.

“You’re so lucky,” Angela continues, oblivious to my discomfort. “My brothers just pull my hair and steal my stuff. Talon actually keeps the bullies away.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. How can I explain that Talon’s protection feels nothing like brotherly love? That there’s something more intense and taboo brewing between us?

But Angela wouldn’t understand—no one would. So I let her believe what she wants while that forbidden truth burns in my chest like a secret flame.