I narrowed my eyes at him in suspicion. "Why?"

"Because I'm a growing boy," he laughed, shuffling awkwardly. "And dinner is important?"

I studied Liam's face for a long moment, trying to figure this whole thing out. For a while now, Liam had been acting a little more like old Liam as in boyfriend Liam.

Getting back together wasn't something I had any interest in. To be perfectly honest, I didn't think I would ever trust another guy again. Like ever.

"It's just dinner, Teegs," Liam reminded me, all humor gone from his expression. "As in two friends sharing a meal and paying separately afterwards."

"Right," I muttered, feeling like an overreacting tool. "Well, then I'll definitely go for dinner with you..."

The front door of the flat flew inwards and slammed against the wall.

"I can't believe it!" Hope practically screamed as she appeared in the doorway, with her phone pressed to her chest. Her eyes landed on me and widened.

"Teagan," she blurted out, rushing towards me. "Logan's on the phone. He says that Noah has been involved some sort of incident at the prison again"

"Don't," I warned her, waving my hand in front of my face. "I can't hear about him, Hope. Okay?" One year had pa.s.sed by since I left the Hill and I was struggling to block it all out; all my thoughts, my memories of him, my guilt for the way his life had turned out. I was getting there. I was rebuilding my life, a life that didn't include Noah Messina. But I couldn't handle another sentence with his name in it. I wasn't strong enough. "Just leave me out of your family business."

"Dammit, Teagan," Hope huffed, as she padded through the flat towards me before thrusting her iPhone into my hand. "You need to hear this."

"I can't," I warned her, clenching my eyes shut. It was too painful and I was feeling weak.

"What's going on?" I heard Liam ask, but his question went unanswered.

"Talk to Logan," Hope demanded. "For the love of G.o.d, Noah was stabbed, woman."

"What?" I deadpanned.

Dread devoured me.

Fear claimed my heart.

With trembling hands, I dragged the phone to my ear. "Is he alive?" I heard myself ask in a voice so shrill that it didn't sound like mine. "Logan," I heard myself scream louder. "Is he alive?"

Please G.o.d, let him be okay...

Please, G.o.d, please...

"Yes."

That was the most perfect 'yes' I had ever heard.

"What happened?" I found myself asking. My legs gave out beneath me and I fell to the floor in relief, cradling the phone to my ear.

"Teagan?" Liam dropped to the ground, attempting to comfort me, but I pushed him away.

I couldn't have him near me right now.

"Liam, go," I heard Hope warn him. "She'll call you later."

I didn't listen to their exchange or check to see if Liam had in fact left. I was too busy having my life ripped out from underneath me. "He got into it with Angelo Javi in the yard the other day," Logan announced, getting straight to the point. "The f.u.c.ker and his posse waited for Noah and jumped when he was showering later that day, nicked him twice in the side with a blade."

"Angelo Javi? As in..."

"Gerome Javi's brother," Logan said, confirming my worst fears.

"Oh my G.o.d." A tsunami of emotions burst through me, overwhelming me, attempting to strip away my sanity. "Where is he now?"

"He was sent to the hospital, got st.i.tches and what not." I heard Logan sigh. "They sent him back there, Teagan."

"Can they do that?" I demanded, frantic. Climbing to my feet, I began to pace the flat. "It's not safe. Jesus Christ, they can't f.u.c.king send him back in there!"

"They can and they have," Logan replied, "It's a joke."

"What can I do?" I heard myself ask.

"Write him a d.a.m.n letter for starters," Logan shot back. "And if it's not too much trouble, maybe you could get on a plane and come see the guy."

I cringed when I heard the venom in his tone.

Logan wasn't an aggressive person and we were friends; or so I had thought.

Not anymore apparently.

"He's going through h.e.l.l inside, Teagan," Logan added. "And you checked out on him. Imagine how he feels."

"Logan, he cheated on me," I cried out in defense. "He f.u.c.ked that girl right in front of me and he didn't bat an eyelid doing it. What am I supposed to do? Run back to him and wait for it to happen again?" I shook my head and wiped my cheeks with my free hand. "He broke me, Logan."

"He knew they were coming for him," Logan hissed in tone of pure disgust. "And do you know the only person Noah was worried about? You. He could've been killed in there, and the only thing that concerned him was getting a f.u.c.king message to you. You don't deserve him, Teagan," Logan hissed and I paled.

I tried to find the words to defend myself but Hope's younger brother continued before I had a chance.

"This is on you," he added in a deathly cold voice. "If you hadn't come around and f.u.c.ked with his head, Noah wouldn't be where he is today. He was protecting you that night, to keep you safe from JD and George, and you betrayed him, Teagan. You f.u.c.king buried him and you bailed when it got tough."

"Alright, Logan, that's enough," Hope, who s.n.a.t.c.hed her phone out of my hand, warned her youngest brother. "Don't even think about putting any of the blame on Teagan."

I didn't hear Logan's reply, but from the way Hope's face reddened and her voice rose, I guessed it wasn't pretty.

Was Logan right?

Was I responsible for this for Noah being in prison?

"You are not responsible for this," Hope growled, reading my thoughts. Tossing her phone on the couch, she knelt on the floor and pulled me into her arms. "None of this is on you, babe."

I nodded and agreed and held onto Hope for dear life, all the while wondering if Noah blamed me too.

Did he go down for me?

Did he hate me?

"I HAVE A MESSAGE FOR YOU," Angelo Javi announced when he walked into shower room, flanked by his goons. "From JD Dennis."

"Tell that a.s.shole that if he wants me I'm right here," I shot back, not taking my eyes off him. Anxiety churned inside me as I watched them approach. My hands balled into fists on their own accord. "Come and f.u.c.king do his own dirty work."

"He wants you to know that he hasn't forgotten about you," he taunted, closing the gap between us, surrounding me. "He wants you to know that if it takes him all the days of his life, he will find a way to make you pay for what you did."

"Like I said," I snarled. "You can tell that piece of s.h.i.t that I'm right f.u.c.king here, Chico."

"This is for my brother," Javi hissed seconds before ramming the blade into my side. Collapsing on the ground, I fought to drag air into my lungs as his two little helpers held me down. "And consider this a little sample," he added before stabbing me again, "of what you have to look forward to on the outside if you live long enough to make it out of here."

Crouching down beside me, Javi slapped a folded up piece of paper on my chest and smirked. "Your fate is sealed, Messina."

Laying on my bunk hours later, st.i.tched up and bandaged, I was still clutching the note smeared with my own blood. As I held the piece of paper in front of my face, I wasn't dumb enough that I couldn't make out what the two words were or what they meant.

I'm coming.

It was inevitable that JD would try and get me for my part in the Ring of Fire being taken down. A criminal mob prince was bound to have contacts in low places, and Angelo Javi was the perfect messenger boy because he wanted the same thing JD wanted.

My blood.

To be honest, I didn't blame Angelo Javi for stabbing me. His brother spent six months p.i.s.sing through a tube because of me, and I wasn't even badly hurt just a couple of nicks in the side less than two inches deep. In a sick way I could respect the man for what he'd done. If the shoe was on the other foot, and he had done what I did to Low, Cam, or Colt, I would have reacted exactly the same. Except I would have done a better f.u.c.king job than he had. I would have put him in a body bag.

But I would be a liar if I said JD's note didn't unsettle me, and I would be an absolute fool to believe the guy didn't blame me for his father's death and the demise of their family business. JD was weak now but he wouldn't always be and knowing he was out there somewhere made me, for the first time, thank G.o.d that Thorn was an ocean away.

I might not be free of him, but she was, and that was music to my ears.

Thinking of Thorn caused the burning pain in my side to spread to my chest.

Deep down inside, I'd known she wouldn't come to me; she wouldn't call, and she wouldn't care. But there was this tiny glimmer of hope that wouldn't fade no matter how much time pa.s.sed, or how badly she let me down. She had burst into my world and thrown it upside down, ruining everything, and making it right all at once.

Disappointment bloomed inside of me. Getting stabbed was the sign I had been waiting for, and now I had to accept the fact that it was over.

She wasn't coming back.

She didn't want me.

My Thorn was gone.

And I was f.u.c.king hemorrhaging from the inside out.

THERE WEREN'T MANY THINGS I had done in my lifetime that I regretted.

I was a live in the moment kind of person.

I was pa.s.sionate and let my emotions guide me through my life.

I didn't do regrets I never had.

But not going to Noah that night, leaving him alone to deal with his injuries, well, I regretted that.

I called the prison the night I found out, but that had proved fruitless. I wasn't told a d.a.m.n thing about him, which I had expected to happen anyway. I wanted to see him, no one would ever realize how badly I wanted to see that boy, but how could I show up after a year of no contact? And what if he refused to see me?

Oh G.o.d, my mind was a mess, obsessing and freaking out over the potential possibilities working myself up about conversations that hadn't taken place.

If he had just listened to me that night. If he had trusted me and come away with me then none of this would be happening now. He wouldn't have cheated, he wouldn't be in prison, and I wouldn't be driving myself out of my mind worrying about him.

But he didn't listen to me that night.

He didn't trust me.

And now I was stuck.

Trapped in his love.

Lost in my misery.

I couldn't get past it.

I NEVER HAD A STABLE HOME LIFE AS A KID.

My parents were a G.o.dd.a.m.n disaster and, in many ways, had steered me in the direction of prison life from the day I was born. Every bad thing I had ever done was both for and because of them. I had never really had a chance at normality.

I couldn't read for s.h.i.t because I had missed a lot of school growing up. I wasn't even sent to a mainstream school until I was seven, and even then we had moved around so much I never really got a chance to settle down anywhere not that my folks gave a d.a.m.n about that.

They weren't concerned with what I could do with my mind, only what I could do with my fists. I remembered the first time I stood in a ring. I was six and up against a boy who was nine. That kid beat me so badly that I cried. I had quickly learned that showing weakness was a mistake and, after taking my beaten from my father, I had been tossed back into the ring and told fight or die.

Fight or die.

Three words that had been my bedtime prayers.

After that day I never cried again. I toughened up. I stopped feeling.

But I knew I had one reason to thank my parents.

Their f.u.c.ked-upness kept me clean.

Experiencing what I had growing up was the reason I was able to keep my head clear in this place. Drugs were as easy to come by as a gla.s.s of water, and I'd be a G.o.dd.a.m.n liar if I said I wasn't tempted.

f.u.c.k, I wanted to forget about s.h.i.t, just like every other a.s.shole in this place, but I wanted to not be like my parents that much more.

So I used my best attribute and hit the weight room as hard as I could every spare chance I got; f.u.c.king working myself to the G.o.dd.a.m.n bone.

I accepted every fight I was challenged to in here, and I destroyed every single opponent. I was ruthless because I feared nothing, and I was unbeatable because I had nothing to lose.

Losing didn't matter to me.

Dying meant even less.