Micah’s POV
The quiet hum of the open refrigerator was the only sound echoing through our empty, sterile kitchen. I stood directly in front of the open door, the cold air washing over my face, but it did nothing to cool the raging, hot humiliation boiling inside my chest.
With trembling hands, I dug a heavy metal spoon into a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream, scooping out a massive bite and shoving it into my mouth.
I chewed aggressively, swallowing the freezing sweetness, desperate for the physical pain to start. And then it hit... a sharp, blinding pressure right behind my forehead.
Brain freeze.
It was a sick, desperate coping mechanism, but right now, I needed it. I needed the sudden, icy agony in my skull to completely drown out the suffocating thoughts of what Noah had done to me at the rink. I needed to freeze my brain before the tears prickling behind my eyelids could actually spill over.
I stood there for five agonizing minutes, repeating the cycle of pain and numbness, until the heavy click of the front door lock shattered the silence.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Noah was home.
From my spot by the open fridge, I watched him walk into the kitchen, his broad shoulders still carrying the scent of the cold ice rink. I immediately turned my face away from him, staring hard into the green tub of ice cream and shoving another spoonful past my lips.
"Micah," Noah called softly, his voice dropping into that gentle tone he always used when he thought I was throwing a tantrum. He took a few steps toward me.
"I don’t want to talk to you," I mumbled around the spoon, my voice flat and completely devoid of warmth.
Noah let out a soft sigh, stopping just a few feet away. "Don’t be stubborn now, Micah. Look, don’t worry about tonight. I’ll talk to father soon, and we’ll get him to throw you a massive party for your upcoming birthday. How does that sound?"
"I’m not interested," I snapped, violently turning my back to him.
His words felt like a physical slap to the face. A birthday party? I had never had a single birthday party in my entire life. I didn’t even have any friends to invite. Noah was the golden child, the popular athlete who had over hundreds of friends on speed dial. Every single year since he had come to live with us, father had spared no expense, throwing him lavish, crowded celebrations.
But for me? My birthday was a cursed day in our household. It was nothing more than a dark, annual reminder to my father that my mother had died giving birth to me. It was a day of silence, mourning, and resentment.
I tightly shut my eyes, forcing the bitter memories back down into the dark corners of my mind.
’Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it.’
I slammed the lid back onto the melted tub of mint ice cream, threw it into the freezer, and slammed the refrigerator door shut with a loud bang.
Noah looked at me, his eyes softening with a mix of pity and unsaid words. He parted his lips as if he wanted to apologize, to explain, to fix it but I didn’t give him the chance. I brushed past him, deliberately bumping my shoulder against his arm as I marched out of the kitchen and headed straight up the stairs to my bedroom.
I entered my room, slammed the heavy wooden door shut, and turned the lock. The sharp click of the deadbolt offered a tiny, pathetic illusion of safety.
I marched over to my bed, threw myself face-down onto the mattress, and screamed directly into my pillow. The muffled sound was raw, fueled by years of being kept in Noah’s shadow, of being locked away while the rest of the world got to live.
Suddenly, a sharp vibration in my front pocket made me flinch.
I rolled over, staring blankly at the ceiling as my phone vibrated again. Part of me wanted to throw the device against the wall, but I reached into my pocket and pulled it out anyway. The screen lit up with a notification from a contact name that made my breath instantly hitch: 8" Brat.
I had been ignoring his constant, teasing texts all day, but my eyes locked onto the preview, and I couldn’t stop myself from unlocking the screen.
8" Brat: Want me to come pick you up for tonight’s party? Heard Noah rejecting you by the ice. I can never say no to you, Micah. Just say yes and you’ll see me immediately.
My heart did a violent, erratic flutter against my ribs. I glanced at the digital clock on my nightstand. The varsity pool party was scheduled to start in exactly one hour.
"Even if I wish to go," I whispered aloud to the empty room, "how the hell am I supposed to deal with Noah?"
As if he could read my mind through the screen, another text bubbled up almost instantly.
8" Brat: Don’t worry. I have a way to deal with Noah. Just say yes and choose to enjoy the party, darling Micah.
I sat up abruptly on the edge of my mattress, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard, a sudden rush of dangerous adrenaline flooding my veins. But before I could type a single letter, a heavy knock on my bedroom door made me gasp, my phone slipping from my fingers and tumbling onto my lap.
"I’m heading out already, Micah," Noah’s muffled voice traveled through the thick wood of the door. "Don’t worry, I’ll be back before midnight."
I sat in absolute silence, holding my breath. I didn’t say a word. But Noah didn’t walk away. I could see the shadow of his feet blocking the crack of light beneath my door. I knew him... he wouldn’t leave the house until he got some form of acknowledgement from me.
"Micah..." Noah’s voice dragged out, a hint of warning bleeding into his tone.
"Have fun. Just go away!" I yelled back, my voice dripping with venom.
A heavy silence stretched across the hallway. And then, Noah spoke again. But his voice didn’t sound sweet or comforting anymore. It was low, freezing, and laced with an underlying, possessive darkness that made every single hair on my arms stand on end.
"Don’t leave the house, Micah. I’ll get ve~ry mad if you do."
The chilling weight of his words made me tremble. It wasn’t a request; it was a threat. I sat frozen on my bed, my heart hammering like a trapped bird until I finally heard his heavy footsteps retreat down the stairs. A moment later, the distant rumble of his car engine ignited in the driveway, slowly fading into the distance as he drove away.
The moment the sound died, a reckless, wild fire ignited in my chest.
’He thinks he can keep me locked in this cage forever.’
I snatched up my phone, my fingers flying across the screen with a sudden, desperate bravery.
Micah: If you can keep me safe... Then, come take me to the party, Damon.
I held my breath and pushed send.
I scrambled off the bed, my mind racing as I paced toward my large wardrobe. I needed to find something to wear... something that didn’t make me look like a fragile, sheltered child. I needed to get ready quickly, hoping to have an outfit put together by the time Damon eventually drove over to retrieve me.
But the moment I took my first step toward the wooden closet doors, a soft click echoed through the quiet bedroom.
I froze in my tracks, my blood turning to absolute ice.
Slowly, the heavy, double doors of my wardrobe creaked open from the inside.
A tall, muscular shadow stepped out of the darkness of my hanging clothes, brushing aside a row of jackets.
Damon Silver stood in the center of my bedroom, a wicked, chaotic smirk on his stupidly handsome face. He looked entirely too large for my room, radiating a dark, dangerous energy that made the air feel entirely too thick to breathe.
"I honestly thought you’d say no, holy boy," Damon purred, his eyes scanning my trembling form with amusement.
"Damon?!!!" I screamed, my voice cracking in shock as I took a wild step backward, my back hitting the edge of my desk.
"Yes, it’s me, darling," Damon chuckled, taking a slow, predatory step toward me as he reached out to smooth down his collar. "Now, let’s get you dressed and out of this cage. We have a party to crash."