Chapter 4: Aftermath in the Loft (Silas POV)

The air feels heavy, like it’s pressing down on us. Nico’s pacing by the window, his boots scuffing the floor, while I sit on the mattress, staring at my hands. The place is a mess, same as always, clothes piled up, empty cans scattered, but tonight it feels tighter, like a cage. My head’s still spinning from Harper’s words, from the headlights, from Cole. And now this video mess, my mom’s call, Kai’s offer, it’s all piling up fast. I rub my face, trying to shake it off, but it’s stuck.

Nico stops, turns to me, his face tight. “It’s out there, Silas,” he says, voice shaky. “The video’s everywhere. X is blowing up.” He holds up his phone, screen glowing with notifications, hashtags, people talking crap. I stand, grab it from him, scroll quick. “Nico Ash caught in gay scandal,” one says. Another’s worse, mean and loud. My stomach twists. “How’d it leak already?” I ask, looking at him. “We paid. We sent the money.” He shakes his head, eyes wide. “I don’t know. They screwed us.”

I toss the phone on the bed, run my hands through my hair. “This is bad,” I say, pacing now too. “Your fans, your gigs, they’re gonna ditch you.” He nods, slow, like he’s already thought it. “I’m terrified,” he says, quiet. “My whole future’s gone if this sticks.” I stop, look at him. He’s not the cocky guy from the pool anymore. He’s scared, and it’s killing me to see it.

I feel my own mess bubbling up. “My mom called me,” I say, voice low. “She’s done with me. No money, no nothing.” Nico’s eyes flick to mine. “Because of me?” he asks. I shrug. “Because of us. She hates this, hates me being with you.” Guilt hits me hard, thinking of Cole, of Harper, of how I don’t deserve this either. “I’m dragging you down,” he mutters, turning away. “No,” I say, sharp. “We’re in this together.” But my words feel thin, like they’re not enough.

We’re quiet for a minute, just standing there, the loft creaking around us. “What do we do?” I ask, breaking the silence. “We can’t just sit here.” Nico turns back, fists clenched. “We find who did this,” he says, voice hard. “Track them down, make them pay.” I nod, liking that fire in him. “Yeah, confront them. Hit back.” But then I think, and my gut twists again. “Or we cover it up,” I say. “Deny it, say it’s fake, buy time.” He stares at me, eyes narrowing. “You think that’ll work?”

“No idea,” I admit. “But we’ve got to try something.” He shakes his head, fast. “Denying it looks weak. They’ll know it’s us. My face is all over it.” I step closer. “Then we fight,” I say. “Find the bastard, shut it down.” He’s breathing hard now, angry. “How, Silas? We don’t even know who it is!” His voice cracks, and I feel that panic too. “We’ll figure it out,” I say, but I’m not sure I believe it.

We’re arguing now, voices getting loud. “We can’t just guess!” he snaps. “This isn’t a game. My career’s dead if we mess up.” I throw my hands up. “What else do we do, Nico? Hide? Pay more?” He glares at me. “Maybe we should’ve never sent the cash. They played us anyway.” I groan, kicking a can across the room. “I know that! But we can’t undo it.” He turns away again, muttering, “This is my fault.” I grab his arm, pull him back. “Stop it,” I say. “It’s not on you.”

He pulls free, pacing again. “I should’ve known,” he says. “Someone’s always watching me. I’m too big now.” I watch him, feeling useless. “We’ll get through this,” I say, softer. He doesn’t answer, just keeps moving, like he’s trapped. I sit back down, head in my hands, thinking about my mom’s voice, cold and final. “No son of mine,” she’d said. It stings, mixes with Harper’s glare, Cole’s last breath. I’m drowning in it, and Nico’s right there with me, scared out of his mind.

I look up, about to say something, when my laptop pings. It’s on the floor, screen dark until now. I frown, grab it, set it on my lap. The screen flickers, and a message pops up, no sender, just text in a weird box. “You think you’re safe?” it says. “I know more than you guess.” My heart stops. “Nico,” I say, voice tight. He turns, sees my face, rushes over. “What?” he asks, leaning in. I point at the screen, hands shaking. “This just came up.”

He reads it, goes still. “Encrypted,” he mutters. “How’d they get in your laptop?” I shake my head, mind racing. “No clue.” The words sit there, cold and sharp, hinting at stuff we don’t know. “They’ve got more,” I say, quiet. “More than the video.” Nico’s eyes meet mine, wide and freaked. “Who is this?” he asks, voice barely there. I don’t answer, can’t. We’re staring at that screen, the loft dead quiet now, and all I can think is: Who’s watching us?