She didn't go to his apartment the next day. Pushing him would only make him retreat further. Instead, Genesis parked her car across the street, in the lot of a small coffee shop, and waited. It felt like stalking, and a part of her was deeply ashamed, but the larger part, the part that remembered him dying for her, didn't care.

After an hour, he emerged. He was limping more noticeably than before, and he moved with a stiffness that spoke of deep aches and pains. He didn't head toward the construction site or the bus stop for school. He boarded a city bus heading east, toward the suburbs.

Genesis started her car and followed at a discreet distance. "What are you doing, Cas?" she whispered to herself.

The bus wound its way into a neighborhood of modest, tidy houses with green lawns and picket fences. It was a world away from his grim apartment building. Cas got off at a corner and walked to a small, pale blue house.

A middle-aged woman with a sour face opened the door before he could knock. Dori Duffy. His aunt. Genesis could just make out her sharp, whining voice through the closed car window.

"About time. You have the money? Your mother's monthly expenses are due."

Cas reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled bills Mitch Kowalski had thrown at him. The money he'd been beaten and humiliated for. He handed it over without a word.

Dori snatched the cash and counted it quickly. Her face soured even more. "Is this it? Is this all? At this rate, that settlement money from your father is going to be gone before she is."

At the mention of his mother, Barb Morrison, Cas's entire body went rigid.

A large, slovenly man with a cigarette dangling from his lips appeared in the doorway behind Dori. Dale Duffy, his uncle. He saw Cas and, without breaking stride, hawked and spit a thick glob of phlegm that landed inches from Cas's worn-out sneakers.

"Bad luck follows you everywhere, boy," Dale grunted.

Genesis felt a surge of hot, violent anger. These were his family. This was how they treated him.

Cas ignored his uncle's greeting. His voice was low, almost a plea. "Can I... see her?"

Dori rolled her eyes. "And get her all worked up? No. The doctor says she needs calm. The sight of you is the last thing she needs."

The words were designed to wound, and they hit their mark. Genesis saw the flicker of pain in his eyes before it was replaced by that familiar, icy mask.

Dale stepped forward, puffing out his chest. He jabbed a thick finger into Cas's shoulder. "You heard her. Get lost. We don't want you here."

Cas stood his ground, his silence more defiant than any shout.

Dale, enraged by this passive resistance, shoved him hard in the chest. "I said, get out of here!"

Already off-balance from his limp, Cas stumbled backward, catching himself just before he fell. He looked up, and for a second, the mask slipped. His eyes blazed with a pure, undiluted fury.

The look was all Dale needed. He swung his open hand, the crack of it hitting Cas's cheek echoing in the quiet suburban street.

The sound was like a gunshot to Genesis's heart.

Cas's head snapped to the side. A bright red mark instantly bloomed on his skin. He didn't make a sound. He just took it, his jaw clenched so tight Genesis worried his teeth would shatter.

Dale raised his hand again, but Dori grabbed his arm. "Not on the porch, Dale! The neighbors!" she hissed.

She gave Cas one last shove. "Go on, get out of here. And don't come back until you have the rest of the money."

The door slammed shut, the sound final and brutal.

Cas stood on the welcome mat for a long, long time, staring at the closed door. A statue of rejected grief.

Genesis finally understood. The money wasn't for him. It was for his sick mother. And the very people entrusted with her care were the ones torturing her son. His world was smaller, darker, and more cruel than she could have ever imagined.

Eventually, he turned. He didn't go back to the bus stop.

He started walking.

Genesis followed, keeping a long distance. She watched as Cas limped down the suburban streets, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He walked for miles, through manicured neighborhoods and past busy intersections, all the way back to the rotting heart of the city. Back to his tiny, empty apartment.

The journey was long and silent. And for every painful step he took, Genesis's resolve hardened into something unbreakable.

---

She couldn't stay away. Not after what she'd seen.

Genesis didn't follow him this time. She went straight to his apartment building and waited on the chipped concrete steps outside, watching the sky bleed from orange to a bruised purple. She had to talk to him, face to face. She had to let him know he wasn't invisible.

The front door of the building creaked open, and a man stumbled out. He reeked of stale beer and sweat. Ray Donahue, a neighbor she'd seen coming and going. His eyes, small and bloodshot, landed on Genesis, and a greasy smile spread across his face.

"Well, hello there, little bird," he slurred, moving toward her. "Whatcha doin' all alone in the dark?"

Genesis stood up immediately, her skin crawling. "I'm waiting for someone."

"I'm someone," he said, closing the distance. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. "Why don't you wait with me? We could have some fun."

"Let go of me!" she yelled, yanking her arm, but he held fast. Panic, cold and sharp, seized her. He started to drag her toward the shadows of the building's entryway.

"I said, let go!"

"You heard her."

The voice was quiet, flat, and colder than the grave.

Both Genesis and Ray turned. Cas was standing at the edge of the street, bathed in the orange glow of a streetlight. The exhaustion was gone from his face, replaced by a look of terrifying, focused rage.

He moved with a sudden lurch. He didn't shout, didn't posture. He bent down, his hand closing around a loose brick from a crumbling retaining wall.

Before Ray could even process the threat, Cas was on him. He lunged, bringing the brick down with desperate force. It wasn't a calculated strike, but a raw explosion of rage, and it connected with a sickening crunch against the man's hand.

There was a wet crack, followed by a scream of agony from Ray.

His grip vanished. Genesis scrambled away, her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest.

Ray was on the ground, clutching his mangled hand, howling.

Cas stood over him, the brick still raised, his chest heaving. The look in his eyes was wild, feral. He was going to hit him again.

"Cas, no!" Genesis cried, rushing forward and grabbing his arm. "Stop! It's okay, he let me go!"

Her touch, her voice, seemed to break the spell. The madness in his eyes receded, replaced by a dawning horror. He looked from Ray, to the brick in his hand, to her.

The brick dropped to the pavement with a heavy thud.

"I'm calling the cops! You're dead, you psycho bastard!" Ray shrieked from the ground.

Cas didn't even look at him. He grabbed Genesis's hand-gently this time-and pulled her toward the apartment building. He half-dragged her up the rickety stairs to the second floor and fumbled with his keys, finally shoving the door open and pulling her inside.

He slammed the door shut, plunging them into the near-darkness of his small apartment.

It was the first time she had been inside his world. The room was sparse, almost empty. A mattress on the floor, a single wooden chair, a small stack of books. But it was spotlessly clean.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice shaky.

He let go of her hand as if it were on fire. He turned his back to her, his shoulders rigid. "You see?" he said, his voice a low, rough rasp. "This is what happens. This is me."

He spun around to face her, his face a mask of self-loathing. "I'm violent. I'm dangerous. I'm the trash that lives in a place where men like that feel brave."

A bitter, broken laugh escaped his lips. "Are you happy now? You got your little charity project to perform for you. You can see what a monster I am and go back to your perfect life."

He was pushing her away. He was showing her his ugliest parts, hoping it would be enough to make her run. He wasn't angry at her. He was terrified for her.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she shook her head, her voice firm. "I'm not scared of you, Cas."

His face crumpled in frustration. He strode to the door and wrenched it open, pointing out into the dark, grimy hallway.

"Get out," he snarled, the words tearing from his throat. "Go. Don't you get it? He's going to call the cops. They're going to come here. Because of you. So go. And don't ever come back."

---

He came to school the next day.

Genesis's breath caught in her throat when he walked into history class. He looked awful. The red mark on his cheek from his uncle's hand had bloomed into a dark, ugly bruise. He moved like every muscle in his body ached.

He ignored the stares and whispers, slumped into his seat in the back, and immediately put his head down on his desk.

Genesis felt a fragile mix of relief and dread. He was here. He hadn't given up completely. But his presence also made him a target.

As if on cue, Mrs. Gable swept into the room, her eyes immediately landing on the figure in the back corner. Her lips thinned into a razor line.

She walked down the aisle, her heels clicking ominously on the floor, and stopped right in front of his desk. She slapped a textbook down on the wood, the sharp crack making Cas flinch and lift his head.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Mr. Riley. So good of you to grace us with your presence."

Cas just stared at her, his face a blank canvas.

Mrs. Gable crossed her arms, enjoying her audience. "You've missed an entire week of school, Riley. What's the plan? Falling behind seems to be a habit."

A wave of cruel snickers rippled through the classroom. Everyone knew the Rileys had no business, no money, nothing.

Genesis glared at the laughing students, a hot fury building in her chest.

The teacher wasn't finished. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a stage whisper that everyone could hear. "Some students have family legacies to uphold, Mr. Riley. Others seem determined to squander what little they have. Which one are you?"

The words were a stiletto, slid cleanly and quietly between his ribs.

Cas's body went ramrod straight. The blank look in his eyes was replaced by something dangerous. Genesis saw his hands clench into fists under the desk, his knuckles turning white. She was terrified he was going to explode, to do something that would get him expelled, to prove them all right about him.

She couldn't let that happen.

She stood up.

"Mrs. Gable."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the tense silence of the room like a knife.

Every head turned toward her. Cas looked at her, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Mrs. Gable looked genuinely shocked. "Miss Greene, this does not concern you. Sit down."

"I think it does," Genesis said, her gaze unwavering. "As a teacher, I don't believe it's appropriate for you to publicly humiliate a student about their family situation."

The color drained from Mrs. Gable's face, replaced by a blotchy, angry red. "I am disciplining a problem student! This is not a debate! You, and you, Riley. My office. Now."

Cas looked at Genesis one more time, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, before he pushed his chair back and walked out of the room.

Genesis followed without a moment's hesitation.

"Gen, don't," Chelsea hissed, grabbing her arm. "She'll make trouble for you!"

Genesis just shook her head and pulled her arm free.

In the cramped, stuffy office, Mrs. Gable unleashed her fury. She paced back and forth, calling Cas a delinquent, a disgrace to the school, a lost cause. She threatened suspension, expulsion, a permanent mark on his record.

And through it all, Cas just stood there, silent. A stone statue in the eye of a hurricane. He wasn't numb, Genesis realized. He was just... done. Done fighting, done explaining, done caring what people like her thought.

She took a deep breath. It was up to her.

She couldn't tell the truth. She couldn't talk about the construction site, or his aunt and uncle, or the man with the brick. That would strip him of the last bit of dignity he had.

She had to lie.

A bold, crazy, perfect lie began to form in her mind.

---