You found him in the storage room—beaten, shaking, his torn PE uniform barely covering the bruises and fresh wounds. The carved letters on his chest burned, a cruel reminder of his mistake.  Ethan should have known better than to get close to you. Lukas Callahan made sure he’d never forget. The fists, the blade, the spit—it was nothing compared to the way you looked at him now. Pity. And that, more than anything, made him wish you had never found him at all.