Darn Stupid Brother You Are by Mairee

Chapter 93

(Cylan's POV)

The message came at midnight and immediately pulled me from a restless sleep. My phone vibrated once, and when I groggily opened my eyes, the screen glowed with another cryptic text from Emily. >>Cylan, you have to believe me. Dr. Joe is behind everything. He's the reason I'm locked up. Don't tell anyone especially him.<<

I sat up quickly. The room was covered in darkness. My heart raced as I read the words again. The messages were becoming more frequent, more desperate. And with every new one, my mind flooded with questions. Where was Emily? Was she even safe? And most pressing of all, how could I help her without drawing attention to myself?

The next day, I skipped breakfast and stayed in my room. I needed space to think, to plan. My desk was cluttered with scraps of paper, a notebook, and my phone, which buzzed with an energy that matched the chaos in my mind. I sat cross- legged on the floor, staring at the pieces of my mental puzzle.

Step one: I needed to confirm Emily's identity. The texts seemed real, but in a place like this, paranoia came easily. What if someone was using her name to bait me into something dangerous?

I jotted down the times of each message, trying to find a pattern. Maybe she was being monitored and could only send them during specific times. Or maybe... no. My thoughts were spiraling again.

Step two: Find proof. Emily claimed Dr. Joe was responsible, but how could I prove it without putting myself at risk? If I could access the center's records, maybe I could find something her name on a staff list, treatment records, anything. But how could I get close without raising suspicion?

Step three: Enlist help? I hesitated here, my pen hanging over the paper. Who could I trust? Angel was too distracted with Thomas and Hendrix. Hande and Eddie had their own budding romance. Charlotte, too sweet and unsure of her place here. Could I really do this on my own?

I sighed and dropped the pen, my head falling into my hands. My chest felt tight. I had to do something, but every option felt like a risk I couldn't afford. Still, Emily's voice or at least her words-echoed in my mind. Don't tell anyone. For now, this was my battle to fight.

...

(Hendrix's POV)

at the rows of small, clear bottles in front of me, each one filled with a strange, viscous liquid. My hands moved mechanically while I stacked them neatly on the shelf. The nurse who'd dragged me into helping her was chatting away about something

the ridiculous triangle I couldn't seem to escape.

last conversation played in

•

soft tone, the one he used when he was trying to break bad news gently. "This decision... it wasn't just mine.

cares about you, Hendrix," Travis said, though even he didn't sound convinced. "She thought the center would... help." "Help?" I'd laughed bitterly. "You sent me to a prison disguised as a wellness retreat. What part of this is 'helping,' Dad?" "She didn't want you to... go through what she did," he'd said quietly, almost as

mean?" I'd demanded, but Travis had clammed up,

•

I stood in the cold storeroom, the memory bothered me. What was Dennis so afraid of? What had she been through? And why did it feel like every adult in my life

cutting into my thoughts. She was

me?" I

closer. "Strong,

the bottles. "I'm just here to help, not

You can't

bottle and turning to leave. The disappointment on her face was obvious, but I didn't care. The old me might've

the rhythmic clanking of weights provided a comfortable distraction. I grabbed a dumbbell and started lifting. I used each rep to drown

hard I tried, the questions remained. About Angel. About Travis. About Dennis

most of all,