Page 117 of Corrupt

Maybe it was age. Twenty-eight, and I’d spent all of it convincing myself that anything beyond the bed was a liability. No point in getting involved when I was never likely to stick around. I thought of Courtney, of the shit she put up with from Tyler. Of how she could have lost him with one stupid mistake. How could I drag someone into that? How could I let someone get close enough to get hurt?

And yet, here I was. Doing it anyway.

I couldn’t leave him alone.

And the worst part was realising it wasn’t just about sex. I hadn’t come here for that. Not really. The sex was…yeah. Bonus. Cheers. But I’d come here because I needed to feel like myself for five fucking minutes. To have someone on my chest the way Tristan was now, warm and trusting, making me feel…human.

“Can you tell me where you’ve been?” He traced lazy lines over my chest, brushing my nipple with soft, thoughtless touches.

“Putting things right.”

He lifted his head, resting his chin on my chest so he could look at me properly. “Getting out?”

“Not yet.”

“But you’re trying to.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.”

“Have you always wanted to?” He peered up at me with those stupid blue, hopeful eyes. “To leave, I mean. Or was this always your… career path?”

I let out a low laugh. Couldn’t help it. “Career path.” I shook my head. “That’s generous.” I stared at the ceiling for a beat, then rolled onto my side and dragged the sheet up around us as a cool breeze slipped through the open window. “Blokes like me don’t get options. We get a couple of doors put in front of us, and most of ’em are bolted shut. This one wasn’t. It opened when I needed it to. And I turned out to be good at what was on the other side.”

He shifted closer, listening. Expecting me to carry on.

So I did, “I started at the bottom. Little things. Stuff I could pretend weren’t really dirty. Hold this. Drop that. Pass it on. Run errands. Easy money. Then I looked around. Saw the cars I’d never own, houses I’d never step inside unless I was robbing ’em. Gear worth more than anything I grew up with. And I thought, yeah. That’s it. That’s how I get us out the towers.”

I ran my hand through his hair, felt the grit of product and sweat, the silk underneath. He didn’t interrupt. He waited. As if I deserved the space to keep going.

“They sell it clever. Those who recruit. Make it feel like a game. Every time you prove you can handle something, they give you a little more. Raise the stakes. See how far you’ll go. And I went.” I clenched my jaw. “Like a bull seeing red. Needed to show I wasn’t useless. That I was worth something. And for a while? Yeah, I liked it. The buzz. The respect. The money. Walking into a room and watching people shut up. Told myself I was in control. Told myself I could stop whenever I wanted.”

He stayed silent. That was worse than questions.

Cause it made me keep talking.

“Then I climbed high enough that the jobs stopped being clean.” I slowed my hand on his back. “That’s when I learnt what the punishments were if I did it wrong. And I learnt real fast how avoid being on the receiving end… make sure someone else was.”

I closed my eyes.

“So I did more. Moved more. Pushed harder. Took bigger risks. Learnt to lean people who were weaker than me were when I started. Then one day, I looked around again and realised where I was. The top. Only the punishments don’t stop. They just became mine to dish out.”

Images flickered. Tyler. The others. Fists and fear and obedience bought the only way this world understands. I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Thought it’d be easier up here. Thought I wouldn’t have to see the rot anymore. The kids with nothing, thinking this is their shortcut out. The lies you tell yourself while you’re telling them it’s opportunity.” My chest tightened. “But every time I swing, I lose something. And it never comes back.”

He shifted, his hand warm over my ribs. Grounding.

“So yeah. I thought I wanted the big seat. Thought that was the goal. But it’s all smoke. All borrowed power. And I’m dirtier now than I ever was. Because now I know exactly what I’m doing. I don’t want to keep being the bloke who breaks people and calls it business. I don’t want to keep proving I can do this. No matter how good I get at it.”

I didn’t really answer the question of whether I’d always wanted to get out or if something had changed. Didn’t have to.

Because I was here, wasn’t I?

Tristan kissed my chest, a tiny, gentle thing that had me in bits. “So you’ll walk away?”

“I’m working on it.”