My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 145: The Will To Escape

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For a moment, I could only stare at the doorway where their voices spilled out, each word tightening a knot of dread in my chest as I finally let myself understand what they were going to do to me.

Consent...

On top of him...

Hold him down...

I’d known these boys were ruthless...Brookstone High practically wore their cruelty like a badge...but I never imagined they’d take it this far. Humiliation? Sure. Cruel pranks? Absolutely...but this? This was something monstrous.

A thin tremor ran down my spine as the reality settled in.

If I stayed here, lying on this filthy ground and waiting for whatever drug they’d given me to wear off, they’d come for me. And when they did, I wouldn’t be able to defend myself. Not like this. Not when my body felt like it was encased in wet cement.

I forced myself to breathe slow, shallow breaths through my nose, careful not to make any noise. My eyes darted around the workshop, searching for anything that could help me. A window. A tool. A phone. I didn’t care what it was; I just needed one lifeline.

I checked my pockets, each movement slow and unsteady. My fingers brushed against nothing but fabric.

No phone.

Fucking hell!

A hollow feeling opened up inside me.

Of course they took it, of course they were careful. It’s like they they had been planning this for weeks!

"Please," I whispered to myself, so softly I could barely hear it. "Please, just let me think."

My heart was pounding so fast it hurt. I pressed a hand against my chest, trying to hold it still. Every second spent here increased the risk of them coming out and checking on me. If they saw me awake... I couldn’t even bear to imagine it.

I swallowed hard and forced my arms to move. They trembled under the effort as I slowly pushed myself into a crawling position. My head swam, the room tilting for a second, but I gritted my teeth and steadied myself.

I had to move.

Even if I could barely stay upright.

Even if every inch felt like dragging myself through sand.

The cold concrete scraped against my palms as I started inching toward the far end of the workshop, where I thought I saw a dark outline of a door. Maybe it was just a storage closet, but maybe—just maybe, it led outside. I wouldn’t just sit here and hope for something better.

In the other room, the boys were still talking. Their voices got louder for a moment, like the argument was heating up again.

"We can’t stall," Jace said sharply. "The longer he’s out, the more suspicious it’ll look later."

"Well excuse me for not wanting to end up in jail," Liam muttered. "You want a goddamn video? Then at least do it in a way that doesn’t screw us all."

...Video?

Patrick’s laugh sent chills down my spine more than the cold concrete. "Relax. You’re all acting like you haven’t done this sort of thing before."

My stomach twisted violently. A wave of nausea rolled through me, but I forced it down. If I threw up now, the sound would give me away.

My hand brushed against a bolt scattered on the floor. Small, useless as a weapon, but the cool metal grounded me. I pushed myself a bit faster, wincing each time my palm hit a slick patch.

My body felt weak and shaky, but fear kept me moving.

Don’t let them touch you, Noah.

Don’t let them see you awake.

Just get to that door.

My breath hitched when a chair scraped loudly inside the room. Footsteps followed.

"Check on him, Pansexual King!" Jace ordered. "I want to make sure he’s still out. If he wakes up too soon—"

My pulse shot up so fast I almost cried out.

No, no, no—please not now.

I forced myself flat against the floor, pressing into the shadows behind a stack of crates. I held my breath until my lungs screamed.

The doorknob turned.

The hinges creaked.

A figure stepped out.

And I lay frozen, praying to every god I had never believed in that he wouldn’t see me.

I was only a few feet from the door—just a few more desperate crawls and I could have reached it, when I heard footsteps behind me. Heavy, careless steps that told me whoever it was had no worries. They didn’t think I could move. They didn’t even think I was awake.

Patrick’s voice drifted my way, low and amused.

"...calling me a pansexual king...Jace is such a dick," he snorted, still chuckling at his own joke.

I froze, every muscle tense. My breath caught in my throat, a tiny involuntary gasp I hoped hadn’t been loud enough to hear. My heart slammed against my ribs in a frantic, painful rhythm. I pressed myself against the side of a metal cabinet, praying the shadows would hide me, hoping he wouldn’t step far enough into the workshop to see how close I was to the door.

But then his laughter cut off suddenly.

A beat of silence.

A beat where even the buzzing fluorescent lights seemed too loud.

"Uh... guys?" Patrick’s voice sharpened, sounding less casual and more serious. "He’s not here."

Everything inside me went cold.

From the other room, something clattered Liam dropping his phone, I guessed and he rushed out.

"What?" Liam shouted. "What do you mean he’s ’not here’? What the hell, Patrick?"

"I mean he’s gone, ass face!" Patrick snapped back. "The mattress is empty!"

"Oh, for god’s sake," Liam groaned, panic creeping into his voice. "Didn’t you say the injection would knock him out for hours?"

Patrick threw his hands up. "It was supposed to! I used the dosage my cousin gave me—"

"Well, your cousin clearly doesn’t know shit!" Liam shot back.

I pressed a shaky hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my breath. My entire body trembled so much I felt the vibrations through the floor. I tried to make myself smaller, more invisible than I had ever been.

Footsteps thundered toward the far end of the workshop as they argued, their panic making them louder and clumsier. It should’ve been comforting to know they were disorganized, but all I could think was that any moment one of them might round a corner and find me huddled in the shadows like a trapped animal.

Jace burst into the room next, slamming his hand against the doorframe, his expression wild, fury twisting his features.

"Can you two shut up and focus?" he yelled. "He couldn’t have gotten far. The drug shouldn’t even let him stand!"

"Well, he’s not here, genius!" Liam shot back.

Patrick kicked the side of the mattress in frustration. "He must be tripping over his own feet or something. Check the corners, behind the equipment just fucking find him!"

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, fighting the urge to break down completely. My body felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, my head spinning every time I moved, but I couldn’t stay here. If they found me, if they dragged me back to that mattress—I’d never forgive myself for giving up.

I opened my eyes again, struggling to swallow a sob.

You can do this, I told myself silently.

Just keep quiet. Just keep moving.

I carefully shifted my weight, barely an inch at a time, trying not to scrape the concrete or bump into the metal beside me. Every movement felt like a gamble, every breath a risk.

And then Jace’s voice sliced through the room again, low and venomous.

"Spread out," he ordered. "If he’s hiding, we’re going to find him."

A fresh wave of terror washed over me so strong I almost fainted.

They were coming.

They were coming, and I was running out of time.