I didn't sleep that night. Even after I ran home—barefoot, terrified, confused—I just sat on my bed, staring at the ceiling. My brother was downstairs, the usual quiet shadow he always was. But now that shadow had blood on his hands.
Literally.
At breakfast, Jayden acted like nothing had happened. Eggs. Toast. Even offered me extra jam like he always did. But I couldn't stop looking at his bruised knuckles.
"You okay?" he asked.
I nodded too quickly. "Just tired."
He gave me that half-smile. "Long study night?"
"Yeah."
I wanted to scream. Ask. Slam the table and say, I saw you. I followed you. You were fighting like your life depended on it.
But I didn't.
Instead, I said nothing. And he left for class like any other morning.
That Evening
I snuck into his room after school.
I'd never done it before. Jayden was private. Not secretive—at least I never thought so—but private.
His closet was perfectly neat. Jackets. Schoolbooks. Spare notebooks.
Then I found it: a gym bag. Stuffed under the bed.
Inside were wraps stained dark red. A hoodie soaked with sweat. A burner phone. And money—a thick roll of cash held together with a rubber band.
Something cracked inside my chest.
This wasn't just a one-time thing. He'd been doing this.
For a while.
And maybe worse—he was good at it.
The Phone
I shouldn't have turned it on. But I did.
No passcode.
One unread message:
"Fight night. Saturday. $1500 to win. Don't back out."
My hands shook.
Why was he doing this?
Was he in danger? Was someone making him fight?
Or was he choosing it?
Whatever the reason, I had to know. And I had to stop it—before something happened to him… or to both of us.
Because
if Jayden had enemies out there…
They might come looking for me next.