The Fake Boyfriend Gambit - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

My mind snapped back to the present, and I found myself staring at Jason's grinning face in stunned silence.
He met my gaze, his amusement plain as day.
A sudden chill shot down my spine. My nails bit into my palms—the sharp pain the only thing keeping me grounded.
Locking eyes with him, I forced out each word with deliberate calm: "I understand, brother."
This time, I wouldn't let him drag me back into his twisted world.
Everything between us had ended the moment I died in my past life.
Life in that mental institution had been hell.
Jason showed up like clockwork every two weeks, watching as they broke me down—daily beatings, electric shocks, the works. I'd sob, pleading, "Brother, I'm sorry! I won't love you anymore, just let me go!"
But he'd just stare down at me, ice in his voice. "Jessica, you're having another episode."
And then the pain would start all over again.
I tried reaching out—to friends, to anyone who might help. But Jason had covered his tracks. No messages got out. No one came.
Six months. That's all it took for him to destroy me.
And then, after I died? He lost it. Clutching my lifeless body, sobbing about regret, about love, about his fear of what people would think if they knew he'd fallen for his adoptive sister.
My ghost just stood there, watching. Disgusted.
Even now, the sight of him made my stomach turn.
So I turned to Lucas instead, blinking back tears as I put on my sweetest act.
"Honey, hug me?"
The sharp crash of porcelain shattered the eerie silence of the hospital ward.
I flicked my gaze sideways. Jason's palm was a bloody mess, brown medicine mixing with crimson as it dripped onto the floor. Gross.
The amusement had drained from his eyes, replaced by pure fury. But he wasn't my concern right now.
All my focus was on Lucas.
The moment I'd said "honey," Lucas' eyes had darkened to deep red. He went rigid, staring at me with shocked disbelief before his expression melted into something deeper - a trembling, overwhelming emotion.
His lips parted. "Yeah," he rasped, surging forward to crush me against his chest in a tight embrace.
Jason clenched his bleeding fist, fresh blood welling up. He cleared his throat and extended his injured hand toward me like some perverse offering.
The metallic stench made my nose wrinkle. Lucas smoothly shifted me behind him, draping his coat around my shoulders like a shield.
"Don't look," he murmured, covering my eyes with his warm palm. "It's disgusting."
His glare at Jason could've melted steel. "You know she can't stand blood, and you pull this shit?"
Something warm fluttered in my chest. I pushed Lucas' hand away to study his pale, angular face - those sharp features even more striking than I remembered. The Lucas in my mind had always been quiet, restrained. This fiery protectiveness? Brand new.
Jason seemed equally thrown. "Not your damn business," he snapped, his outstretched hand shaking slightly. Like he was waiting for me to jump to his rescue like old times.
"Jess," he whined, "I'm hurt."
Past me would've been scrambling for bandages, crying over his papercut. Now? I just burrowed closer to Lucas, wrinkling my nose at Jason's grimy hand. "Call a nurse, bro. I'm not your personal medic."
"You—"
"I'm tired," I cut him off. "Let's go home."
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught someone's lips curling up - like a puppy who'd just gotten the last treat.