Andrew didn’t need anyone to explain who the new arrival was. The moment the door opened and the red-haired boy stepped inside their dorm, shoulders tight and eyes cut sharp with caution, Andrew knew. Ex-Raven. Another one dragged out of Edgar Allan’s rot and dropped into their mess like a cracked mirror of Kevin. Except this one carried his number on his face—3 inked into his cheek like a brand someone wanted the world to remember.

He didn’t stare. He didn’t have to. One glance was enough. He read the flinch in Neil’s posture when the door clicked shut. The way he stayed just out of reach, watching every move like he expected a blow. Andrew had seen it before. In Kevin. In himself.

Victims found each other without trying.

Wymack called it luck that Neil and Andrew ended up as roommates. Andrew called it inconvenient. He didn’t take in strays and he didn’t trust people who looked too much like him. People who hid behind silence and obedience. People who carried scars in patterns only a few unfortunate souls could understand. And Neil—he carried plenty. The first time Andrew caught a glimpse of the thin white lines on his arms and ribs, it felt like seeing old ghosts wearing someone else’s skin.

He didn’t ask about them. Neil didn’t offer anything. They passed information in glances, the kind of understanding that didn’t need words and didn’t want them.

Kevin hovered, torn between familiarity and guilt. Neil avoided his touch like it burned, and Andrew noticed every time. He wasn’t protecting anyone out of compassion—least of all Kevin, who’d never asked for that kind of loyalty. But Andrew had promised, and his promises meant something. Even when they were inconvenient.

Neil made things complicated just by existing. Another broken piece to guard, another reminder of the places Andrew refused to revisit. The kid was sharp, quiet, observant in a way that made Andrew’s instincts hum. He hid everything and still revealed too much without meaning to. The trembling hands, the split-second winces, the constant scan of the room. All of it said danger, history, damage.

Andrew understood him immediately. And because he understood him, he didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust people who had been taught to lie for survival. He didn’t trust people who ran. He didn’t trust people who could look him in the eye with fear and defiance tangled together.

Still… when Neil unpacked in stiff, careful motions and set his things on the wrong side of the room, Andrew didn’t correct him. When the kid couldn’t sleep and breathed too quietly in the dark, Andrew didn’t comment. When Kevin softened around him in rare, hesitant moments, Andrew didn’t interfere.

Maybe it wasn’t trust. Maybe it was recognition. Or maybe Andrew saw a problem he wasn’t ready to name yet.

Either way, Neil was here now. And Andrew watched him, measured him, waited. Not because he cared.

But because knowing exactly what someone was capable of—especially someone with the same ghosts as him—was the only way to stay alive.