Whitehall Prep is a different place now than it was before Parrish went missing.

As I walk down the halls after school with my book bag slung over one shoulder, I can feel the other students’ eyes on me. Watching. Hunting. Waiting for drama.

“I’ve got it,” Chasm says, catching up to me just before I slip out the doors at the end of the hall. He pushes that lightning-bolt colored hair back from his forehead. “Mr. Volli’s address. Should we check it out?”

“I’m meeting with my sister today,” I tell him, already regretting agreeing to this. Of course I want to see Maxine, but it feels like we’re on a countdown here. Sure, Parrish’s kidnapper—I’m having a really hard time thinking of the guy as ‘dad’—told me there was no deadline other than Parrish’s personal strength. But that fourteen-day thing is killing me. All of the Slayer’s previous victims were killed somewhere around the two-week mark. What if he’s lying to me and Parrish only has five days left?

Besides that, the awful marks on Parrish’s chest haunt my dreams. He must be in so much pain …

I bite my lip, realize I’m imitating Maxx yet again, and huff out a frustrated sigh.

He isn’t quite the saint I thought he was. Somehow, that’s intriguing to me. Somehow, that makes me hate myself just a little bit more for realizing that. I guess I like assholes? And unavailable people. That’s my kink, apparently.

“Ah,” Chasm says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black blazer. It kills me that the school uniform matches my hair with the lime-green stripes in the plaid of the skirt and the pattern on the tie. In the merch shop, there’s even a whole line of lime-green joggers, sports bras, and sneakers. “I’m guessing Maxx is giving you a ride?”

“You’d be guessing right,” I admit, trying not to dread this excursion. Maxine is going to have a lot of questions, questions that I can’t answer. And X … well, I’d sort of like to avoid the guy as much as I can. He’s too perceptive, too focused. Eventually, he’s going to figure it out and I’ll have a wildcard on my hands.

“Consider bringing him into the loop.” Chasm reaches out and opens the doors for me, holding out a hand to usher me through. I slip outside and he follows after. “He isn’t going to let this go, and it might do more harm than good if he figures it out on his own.”

“I’ll think about it,” I promise, giving Kimber a look. She’s sitting on the ground next to the exterior wall of the school, scrolling mindlessly on her phone. She looks a bit like a drowned kitten. “Do you think you could give her a ride?” I ask, looking back at Chas.

While I’m thinking about it, I slide my Tess-phone from my pocket and send her a quick text about the search party—and also about Chasm taking Kimber home. She might not like that, but I keep my fingers crossed.

Maxx let me know you’d be with him but thank you for keeping me informed. I appreciate that. If your plans change at all, please tell me right away. Open communication is vital. Chasm can drop Kimber off, that’s fine, but he needs to go home after.

Right. Because of the whole condom debacle.

I sigh as Chas reads the text over my shoulder, hoping he doesn’t get his feelings hurt by Tess’ curtness. If he does, he makes no mention of it.

“Yeah, I’ll take care of her.” He licks his lower lip, like he might be gearing up to add something else to the conversation. There’s a tension between us that wasn’t there before. It’s the sort of tension that comes with realizing you’re attracted to someone. Not just physically either. I’m attracted to everything about Chasm. His love for Parrish, his quick wit, his intelligence, his surprisingly generous nature. None of which would be a problem if I hadn’t just slept with his best friend, if I wasn’t in love with his best friend. And, also, if his best friend wasn’t missing, tied up by a famous serial killer who also claims to be my bio dad. “Stay safe, Little Sister.” Chasm reaches out and grabs my tie, yanking me a step closer to him, until our mouths are nearly touching.

My breath releases in a rush and Chasm inhales sharply, giving a little shudder in response.

“Why the fuck do you smell like strawberries and sugar all the time? Even your breath smells sweet.”

“Chasm,” I warn, because my hands are this close to reaching out and touching his pretty face. “Please let go of me.”

He gives me a sharp look, his amber eyes burning with intent.

“Don’t do anything reckless without me, okay? If he contacts you, you call me right away. I’ll be camping my phone, just in case.” Chas releases me suddenly, his eyes sliding over to Kimber. I glance her way and find those dark eyes of hers boring into the pair of us.

It’s no secret that she has a crush on Chasm; she won’t like it if she realizes that I do, too.

“I’ll call you,” I promise, just as Maxx’s orange Jeep rolls up to the curb. I take off before I get in anymore trouble with Chasm and hop in, dropping my book bag to the floor with a heavy sigh.

“Chas has Kimber covered, so we don’t need to drop her off.”

“Everything okay?” X asks as we roll away from the school and head down the white gravel road toward the gate. “Anything new to report?”

I give him a look.

“If there was any news on Parrish, you’d probably know before I did.” I shrug my shoulders and keep my gaze focused out the windshield. Looking at Maxx is too hard. There’s just something about him that makes me want to tell the truth. I can’t explain it. He inspires honesty in me, and honesty is something that could get Parrish killed.

As we drive, I work through scenarios in my head. Mr. Volli’s home address is a good start; we might be able to find some clues there. It’s too obvious of a spot for Parrish to actually be held captive, but that doesn’t mean we can’t learn anything from going there.

A DNA test might be nice, just to see if Mr. Volli is my father. If he might actually be Parrish’s sole kidnapper, and he’s just screwing with us. But where am I going to get money for a DNA test? From Tess? Would I have to send it into a private lab, or could I just order a few kits from some mainstream site and see if Mr. Volli and I end up as family matches?

Then again, how would I get him to spit in the little plastic tube? Not a great solution.

Besides, this guy, Parrish’s kidnapper, whoever he might be, is too careful. He’s too smart. He’s so confident that he won’t get caught that he plays games. Someone like that wouldn’t work at the school of the student he’d just kidnapped.

It’s too obvious.

I bite my thumbnail and X flicks his gaze my direction.

“Maxine’s really excited to see you,” he explains, clearly doing his best to make harmless small talk. I glance over at him, still nibbling on my nail. “She’s been worried.”

“I’m not the one she should be worried about,” I reply absently, trying and failing to ignore the bundle of nerves I’ve become. Rather than focus on Maxx any further, I get out my phone and start going through the comments on my video.

There are thousands. Not only that, but I’ve gotten plenty of video replies as well. More than I could ever watch or respond to in a million years. How am I supposed to filter through all of this stuff?

I scroll the comments, looking for anything that stands out.

Most of it’s crap—I mean, it’s the internet, of course it is—but there’s something that catches my attention right away.

The Vanguards’ security system is provided by Fort Humboldt Security, Inc. Anybody else think that’s sus as hell that the footage is missing, and the alarm never went off?

Fort Humboldt Security?

A quick search reveals that Fort Humboldt Security is a multi-billion-dollar, privately-owned security firm. Off I go again, sleuthing through the copious depths of the internet for more information. Nothing catches my attention until I see that one, the company is based in Seattle. And two … the current CEO is Seamus McKenna.

The blood drains from my face as I click the link and follow it to a photo of Chasm’s father.

How … why didn’t Chasm tell me about this?! I mean, there’s a chance he wasn’t aware that his father’s company provided the security for the Vanguards’ house. But come on! This is a huge fucking deal.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” X comments, one hand on the top of the steering wheel, the other tap-tap-tapping a nervous rhythm on his door. He glances at me and raises a dark brow in question. The interior of the vehicle is permeated with his scent, that vibrant, sporty citrus smell that makes me feel fidgety.

I shove those feelings down as hard as I can, backing away from them like the monstrous things they are.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me that Chasm’s father’s company provided the security systems and cameras for our house?”

“Does it matter?” Maxx queries, cursing under his breath as he takes in the parking situation outside the café. He’s going to have to circle the block a few times to find a spot or else use one of the nearby parking garages. Seattle is sort of … ehh to me. I miss the Catskills.

“I guess not,” I reply, slipping my phone back in the pocket of my blazer. But it does matter. Because that commenter is right, and they’ve brought up something that’s been on my mind since that night. The security cameras just happened to be recording to a full drive? They also just happened to be disconnected from the network and unable to upload the videos to the cloud? That isn’t accidental.

Somebody messed with them.

But who? The kidnapper? Paul? Chasm? Delphine? Shit, it could’ve been Tess herself.

I’ve made myself a spreadsheet on my phone to keep track of clues—I know, I’m too much sometimes even for myself—and write that tidbit down to explore later. I’ll talk to Chasm about it tonight.

Maxx finally snags a space not too far away, using the automatic parallel parking feature on his car to squeeze us into a disturbingly small spot.

We climb out together and walk the two blocks without talking. There just isn’t a lot to say right now. He thinks I’m a liar; I know I’m a liar. But we can’t really reconcile those two things without causing harm to Parrish.

Parrish.

I swallow past the hurt and open the glass door to the café, stumbling back when Maxine appears out of nowhere and throws her arms around my neck.

“Oh, Kota, I’ve been so worried,” she murmurs, squeezing me so hard that she nearly hugs the tears right out of me. I want so badly to curl up in her arms and pretend I’m twelve all over again, that I’ve just gotten my period and I’m weeping while she pets my hair and murmurs comforting things for hours. “How are you doing?”

“I’m okay,” I manage to choke out as Maxine pulls away and puts her hands on my shoulders, looking me over with an assessing eye. “Really, Maxie, I’m fine.” She lifts her gaze up to stare at X over my shoulder.

“Does she look okay to you?” she asks him before immediately returning her gaze to me. “You look skinnier. Have you been eating? X, I told you to make sure she was eating.”

He holds up his hands in protest as he moves out of the way of the door so a couple can scoot past us.

“I made her coffee this morning,” he promises as my sister narrows her eyes at me. “I watched her drink it.”

Maxine purses her lips and then puts an arm around my shoulders, guiding me over to the table. It is, coincidentally, the same table that we sat at the day we were caught by Tess. Not only does it hurt to sit down on the same bench that Parrish used when he was here, but it also gives me a bad feeling.

This is an omen. I mean, I don’t really believe in omens, but it’s hard not to take this as a sign of bad things to come.

Ugh, I hate being right.

“How are you holding up?” Maxine asks, pushing over an iced double chocolate mocha with extra whip and chocolate drizzle. I smile as I tuck the drink between my hands and drag it close; my sister knows me so well. Most small problems can be solved with coffee and chocolate.

This … isn’t exactly a small problem. Still, the gesture warms my heart.

“Stressed-out. Sad. Angry,” I admit, taking a drink as X settles into the seat on my right. There’s a watermelon Italian soda waiting for him because Maxie is just awesome like that. She’d take care of the whole world if she could.

Maxine reaches out and takes one of my hands in hers, giving it a warm squeeze before rubbing her thumb across my knuckles in a soothing motion. Her eyes, so much like Saffron’s, so much like mine, study me carefully. I know she can see the dark circles under my eyes, the sallow color of my skin. It’s no secret that I’ve been having trouble sleeping.

“None of this is your fault, you know that, right?” she tells me, unaware that her gentle words are like a knife to the heart. Nearly all of this is my fault, actually. If the kidnapper is to be believed, he’s my father. And he chose Parrish for a reason. Because of me. Because I fell in love with him? “This whole mess isn’t on your shoulders, Kota.” Maxine exhales and casts a wary glance over at X. He isn’t looking at her, however. Instead, he’s staring at me like he thinks he can dig up all my secrets. “I saw your video,” she explains, forcing a smile. “I’m glad you’re back on social media; you have a ton of followers now.”

I do. I really, really do.

It’s amazing how important all of that seems, the likes and the comments, the followers and subscribers. It can easily consume your entire world; it feels like it is the world. But when it comes down to it, none of that matters at all. You start to realize that you’d trade the world for just one more smile from the person you love, that you’d give up the internet forever just to hear them laugh again.

“It isn’t your job to find Parrish,” Maxine says softly. Everything she’s saying would make sense in almost any situation but for the one that I’m in. See, the thing is, it really is wholly and completely up to me to find my missing … boyfriend? Considering what happened between us the night before he went missing, and the conversation we had after, I think it’d be fair to call him that. “This isn’t all on you, baby sister. Don’t feel like you have more responsibility just because the two of you—”

She stops talking suddenly, her gaze flicking to Maxx before I lift up a hand and wave it absently in her direction.

“It’s okay. Chasm already opened his big mouth and blurted out the truth. Maxx knows.”

“Wait, wait, what?” Maxine chokes, scooting her chair even closer to me. I stick my straw between my lips and pretend like I’m not embarrassed. The café is so cozy, so homey, it’d be easy to pretend that we’re just two sisters having a completely normal conversation here.

And oh god, how I wish I could talk to Maxine about what happened. The sex was … well, it was amazing. An entire world of possibilities unfurled before me. I feel so connected to Parrish, so in love with him. I couldn’t stop smiling the entire time. All I want is to see him again, to have him hold me, to find out where we can take all of these wonderful feelings.

It’s all so new, so tender, so strange, I want to talk to Maxine about it. I want to tell her every detail and get her opinion on all of it. But I can’t. And not just because her boyfriend is sitting at the table with us.

It might smell like croissants and espresso in here, there might be soft jazz music playing against the gentle clink of porcelain mugs against saucers, but this isn’t a normal day. I’m standing on a tightrope, and if I’m not hypervigilant, I will fall. I’ll tumble down a dark hole that I’ll never be able to crawl out of.

The feel of the gun in my hands, the way Mr. Fosser’s body jerked as I fired several shots into his chest.

I nearly throw up right there on the antique table.

“How does Chasm know about that?” Maxine wonders aloud, giving X another surreptitious look. This time, he meets her gaze and shakes his head slowly. He doesn’t know either. But I’m sure he’d like to understand. “So he does like you,” she murmurs, and I recall vaguely that Parrish mentioned that to her last time we were at the café.

Maxine looks back at me.

“You’re not in a thruple, are you?” she asks, and I balk. “I mean, I’m not judging, but … are you?”

“No!” I blurt, feeling my cheeks, forehead, and tits turning crimson. “He just … he happened to be standing outside Parrish’s door when we were on our way out to find condoms. He’s actually the one who gave us the condoms in the first place.”

“Well, I’m relieved to hear you used condoms,” Maxine offers up as X cringes and rubs at the back of his neck with his right hand. Does my sister know that he’s a virgin? She must, right? She’s been sexually active with all of her previous boyfriends; she’d definitely wonder about X since he isn’t, uh, putting out. Or however you want to phrase it. “Does anyone else know?”

By anyone else, I’m assuming she means Tess.

“Lumen and Danyella, but that’s it.” I tap my fingers on the side of my cup, teasing droplets of cool condensation. “Tess can’t … well, Parrish wanted to tell her, but we were going to do it together. She absolutely cannot find out while he’s missing.”

It feels imperative to me that we keep this a secret from her for the time being. Not only out of respect for Parrish, but because I don’t want the full force of that woman’s wrath to fall on me. If she knows that, the night before he disappeared for nine freaking days , we had sex for the first time, she’ll blame me.

I don’t know how I know that, I just do.

“I’ll … excuse myself,” X offers, looking like he’d rather crawl into a hole full of black widows than sit here and listen to me talk about sleeping with Parrish. He starts to stand up when I feel a familiar buzzing in my pocket.

My phone is ringing.

I slip it out of my blazer pocket, eyes widening as I see a familiar number on the screen.

Daddy’s calling.

I stand up so suddenly that the bench slams into the window behind me and several people turn to look our way.

“No, no, I’ll … I’ll excuse myself,” I blurt, even though that makes no sense, excusing myself from a conversation about my own sexual conquests. “I have to take this. It’s my … it’s Lumen.”

Without waiting to see what either of the Maxes thinks about my crazy behavior, I take off for the back patio. Coincidentally, it’s the same spot where Tess caught me talking to Saffron. It’s thick with bad juju, but where else can I go to have a private conversation with a serial killer and his hostage?

Thankfully, it’s raining again, so the patio is unoccupied. I tuck myself beneath the eaves and answer the call just before the last ring.

The wine cellar—one of my only good clues—appears on the screen, but I don’t see Parrish. Instead, there he is, the man in the black sweater, slacks, and stag mask with real antlers, sitting in a chair with his legs crossed at the knees, hands folded neatly over them.

“Mr. Volli?” I query dryly, and he smiles at me. Well, I guess most people smile when they’re happy. This smile looks more like an admonishment than anything else. It almost stings to look at.

“Mr. Volli is a pet who knows the length of his own leash; he knows how to respond when I tug on it.” The words are creepy enough as is, but since they’re quite literally coming out of Mr. Volli’s mouth, they’re beyond disturbing. My sixth period teacher delivers his self-proclaimed master’s words without skipping a beat. Either he’s got an earbud in or something and is listening to Justin Prior talk through it, or else he’s just a crazy person who refers to himself in the third person.

Either way, I want to see Parrish.

“Where is he?” I ask, anxiety making me feel dizzy. The rain comes down in sheets, cutting me off from the rest of the world. The brick wall at my back doesn’t help. I feel trapped. Just … not physically. I’m trapped in a game I never asked to play, one where I’m not sure that I understand all of the rules.

“He’s here, of course,” Mr. Volli explains calmly as I kick myself for not recognizing his voice the first time we talked. He leans to one side, and my heart stops.

Parrish is there, as promised. He is not, however, looking at the camera.

Instead, he’s still sitting in that goddamn chair, his head hanging down, his body limp and motionless. A cry escapes me as I step forward into the rain. I don’t even mean to do it; it just happens. The rain is coming down all around me, soaking my (thankfully) waterproof phone, plastering my hair to the sides of my face.

“Parrish!” I call out, but he doesn’t stir. “Parrish, wake up.” This time, my words are more of a sob than anything else. There’s so much blood, I can hardly stand the sight of it. He’s shirtless, his chest and belly drenched with red-brown patches of dried blood. I can hardly tell where his tattoos are underneath all of it. “Parrish.”

A pleading, a desperate cry.

This time, he blessedly, thankfully, mercifully responds.

His head lifts up like he’s coming out of a daze, blinking glassy eyes at me. I’m not sure what he’s watching me on, a monitor of some sort I’m assuming, but he shakes his head like he’s having trouble focusing.

“Gamer Girl,” he whispers with cracked lips. “I’m so tired.” Even though he told me multiple times to let him go, to tell the police, to save myself from all of this, I can see in his gaze that he wants to live. His expression cuts straight through the screen of my phone and hits me like an arrow to the heart.

I’m hurting and aching and crying for him all at once. My tears blend with the rain as it falls in a silver wave all around me. How could his condition have deteriorated so quickly since yesterday?

“If you really are my father, you must hate me,” I choke out, forcing myself to take a step back so that I’m out of the rain again. Doesn’t matter anymore, I guess. I’m soaked to the bone already. “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand.”

“I’ve already explained as much to you, Mia. Do you really believe the world runs on compassion and love? On empathy and kindness? That’s ignorance at its finest. The world runs on blood. Blood is power. I’m giving you all the tools to take some of that power for yourself.”

“I don’t want it,” I snap back at him, my eyes still on Parrish. He’s watching me, but he looks like he’s on death’s door. No matter how strong he is, how strong he wants to be, how hard he fights, we all have our limits. Our bodies are organic, not robotic. Eventually, his will give out.

Parrish Vanguard will die.

He will be as limp and lifeless as JJ was inside that awful, awful box.

“I just want Parrish back; I just want you to fuck off and die.”

Mr. Volli sighs heavily, adjusting his chair so that Parrish and I can see one another more clearly.

“If you’re so worried about the boy, come and find him. Daughter, I’m giving you all of the tools necessary to accomplish your task.” Mr. Volli shakes his foot absently, tapping it in midair as if he’s lost in thought. “As I said before, I’m only doing this because I care for you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t bother.” He stands up and moves over to the chair, putting his hands on the back of it. “Go on now. Tell her what she needs to do next.”

Parrish starts to cough then. It gets so bad that his body strains against the ropes holding him to the chair. For a second there, I really think this is it, that he’s going to die in front of me, today, now.

“I love you,” I tell him, because he needs something more to get through this. A glimmer of hope to grasp in his hand and hold onto like his life depends on it. “I love you, Parrish. I know we’ve only known each other for three months and … well, fuck I don’t care. I don’t care if my feelings are hormonal or immature or stupid. It’s how I feel right now. It matters. It means something.”

He looks up at me again, breathing heavily, and attempts to wet his lips. They’re dry, his tongue is dry, and the move does nothing to help him.

“I love you, too,” he tells me, wasting what little energy he has left to deliver the news. “I feel the same. I …” he trails off as Mr. Volli puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes hard enough to make him wince. “Dakota, you need to tell Maxine that you don’t want to see her anymore.”

The blood drains from my face and I’m forced to lean my body back against the wall to keep from falling over. No. Please no. Anything but this. Fucking anything but this.

“You need to tell her that she isn’t your real sister, that she never was, that you don’t love her like you thought you did. You can’t see or talk to her anymore. Not on the phone, not via text, nothing. No more contact.” Parrish exhales sharply, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Dakota. I’m so sorry.”

“Wait,” I call out, before the video call ends, and I’m left drifting in the hateful winds of my own fate. “Just … wait. I want to make a deal.”

“A deal?” Mr. Volli queries, and I wonder yet again how I never realized that his behavior was just that of a puppet. The more I look at him, the more I see it. I can’t entirely rule out the possibility that he’s just crazy, but I really don’t think so. “What sort of deal, sweet daughter of mine?”

“I want you to give Parrish a bed and unchain him. I want him to have access to a shower. Clean water. Food. Ointment.” I lift my chin up and square my shoulders, gathering my resolve together into a single blow. The thought of saying those horrible things to Maxine is … it’s staggering. Like my soul is being drawn and quartered. But I can live through that hurt. I can apologize and explain things to my sister later.

Parrish cannot be brought back to life. As much as I love necromancers in video games, as much as I enjoy the fantasy and mysticism of that, it isn’t real life. This is. Death does not come with the option of a continue or a new game, a restart, a do-over. It’s the great equalizer, the final act.

“That’s quite the ask,” Mr. Volli tells me, releasing Parrish’s shoulders and moving around him to stand in front of the camera again. He looks right at the screen, his gaze penetrating straight through me. Even though I know this is the same man that I saw at school today, the vibe is completely different.

Justin’s vibe. The Seattle Slayer’s vibe. My bio dad’s vibe.

“I will not give you all of those things at once. I will, however, allow you to choose a few in exchange for an equal return on your end.” He nods at me, the glittering black stag mask stuck firmly to his face. “Which of those items do you want: his freedom and a bathroom, the bed and some ointment, or the food and water. Granted, he is being nourished and hydrated through IVs currently.”

I swallow hard, trying not to get too excited.

As I said before, I do enjoy a good idiom. And if it sounds too good to be true … Whatever I offer up in return is going to hurt. Badly.

I run through my options for a minute.

Food and water are, ironically, the least important of my requests. Justin has already agreed to keep Parrish alive, so he has to provide those things. I’m certain that Parrish isn’t getting nearly as much food as he should, nor do I feel that an IV is equivalent to actual food and drink, but it isn’t as important as the other items.

A bathroom would be nice, especially since infection is a concern. But again, antibiotic ointment would help with that.

So … the bed and the ointment or his freedom and a bathroom?

“If I choose the bed, how will he be restrained on it?” I ask, and Mr. Volli pauses for a moment. I recall the first time we spoke, the way he kept pausing and glancing offscreen, as if he were communicating with someone else. It lends credence to the idea that he’s receiving instructions from someone else.

“On his back. Bound by his wrists to the headboard.”

I consider that.

“If I choose his freedom, he’ll be able to move as he wishes around that room?”

Another pause, a nod.

“An empty room with no windows, but he will be free to move around, yes.”

I lick some of the cool rain droplets from my lower lip.

Being able to move around freely is a huge deal. Not just for Parrish’s physical state, but for his mental and emotional well-being as well. Only … he doesn’t seem to have enough energy to keep his head lifted, let alone do jumping jacks or something in a cold, empty room.

“The bed,” I say, trying and failing to keep my hand from shaking as it clutches the phone in stiff fingers. “But it has to be a proper bed with a real mattress. In exchange …” I run through all of the things that I’ve had to do thus far, searching for something appropriately terrible to offer up. May as well be something this bastard would make me do anyway at some point.

But what?

“I’ll … I’ll tell Danyella that I’m the one who set the fire.” Even as the words are coming out of my mouth, I’m regretting them. Oh god, I’m regretting them. The thought of telling Danyella what I did, destroying our burgeoning friendship, opening myself up to the possibility of punishment, expulsion, criminal charges.

It’s a lot.

For a second there, I can’t get a read on whether I’ve suggested a good or a bad thing. Mr. Volli is as blank as a porcelain doll. Once he receives confirmation from either his crazy other half or, more likely, Justin Prior, he seems pleased. A psychotic smile takes over his lips.

“I like the way you think, princess,” he says, nodding again. “Yes. I accept. You will tell Danyella that you set the fire in the theater. If you’re asked why—by her or anyone else—you will explain that your homelife is a mess. That Tess is a terrible mother. That she drove to you to do it. Is that clear?”

“It’s clear,” I whisper, hoping that the bed provides at least some small amount of relief for Parrish. “Once I do that, I’d like to bargain for the other items.”

“As you wish,” he replies, and then the video cuts off.

I slip the phone back in my blazer pocket and head inside.

There’s not a patron in that café that doesn’t stare at my sopping wet form as I trudge back to the table and sit down hard in my seat. Maxine is gaping at me; X is gritting his teeth. He looks pissed off again. At me? Or did he and Maxine have a conversation while I was gone? I have no idea.

“K-kota?” Maxie asks, blinking big, beautiful eyes at me. Her auburn hair is in a French braid and slung over one shoulder, a single strap of her overalls hanging loose over her PNW t-shirt. She looks so calm, so cool and collected, so worried about me.

It hits me then that Justin’s tasks are not so random as they seem. They’re calculated, intended to drive a wedge between me and everybody that I know and love. He wants me isolated and desperate, lonely.

Chasm.

I need to call Chasm.

I am not alone, no matter how much it feels that way.

He asked me to contact him before taking on any new tasks, but this is … it’s too personal. There is no body for him to shove in his trunk, no pervert with a gun to tackle, no fire to set. This is between me and Maxine.

“Maxine,” I start, swallowing hard. I’m shaking so badly that I might very well give away the ruse, but there’s no way for me to stop it. Not only am I freezing cold and wet, but my heart is as soggy as my clothing. It feels so fragile, like a dandelion puff waiting for the breeze so it can scatter to the ends of the earth. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Why are you wet?” X asks me, his tone dark with suspicion. “Kota, if there’s something going on, you need to tell us. We can help you.”

I ignore him.

As much as I don’t want to do this, it might help with the Maxx Wright problem I’m having. He says he believes me, but after this, he’ll be too angry to think straight. He’ll start to despise me, and he’ll leave me alone. At least … I hope so. I have to pretend there’s some silver lining to all this, or I’ll break.

My sister has always been my rock. She’s the most pure and perfect person I have ever met. Blood related or not, she’s a genuine human with a soul crafted of all those things that the Seattle Slayer just mocked. Compassion and love, empathy and kindness.

This is going to destroy her.

I close my eyes.

My words, when they do come, are wooden and disconnected, like parts of a puppet as easily manipulated as Mr. Volli.

“You are not my real sister.”

There it is. The phrase drops from my mouth like an atomic bomb, decimating everything in its path. I cannot bear to open my eyes right now. I cannot bear to see Maxine’s face.

“Wha… Dakota, what’s going on?” She sounds panicked, desperate. One of her soft, warm hands touches my arm and I jump. I hear the sound of chair legs scraping across the floor. It’s X, I know it is, even without looking.

“Why would you say something like this?” he breathes, but I don’t care about him right now. Only Maxine. My sister comes first.

“You never were. Maxine, I thought I loved you, but really, I was just obligated. We were family; I had no choice but to feel that way. But now, I do. I have a choice.” Open your eyes, coward, my heart hisses. Because if my sister’s hurting then I deserve to hurt, too. I deserve that and more. I flick my eyes open to find Maxine sitting there, staring at me with huge, fat tears streaming down her pretty face. “I don’t want to see you anymore.” Here my voice cracks, shatters, twists into something ugly and hateful. I’m crying now, too. I fling her arm off of me. “I don’t want to talk to you; I don’t want to see you.”

“Why are you … why would you say those things to me?” she asks, struggling to catch a breath. She’s starting to pant, putting her hands on the table and staring down at the well-worn surface. Maxx is just … he’s quivering with anger, looking at me like I’m a crazy person.

I must’ve really exceeded his expectations today.

Wonder if he’s as confident in me now as he was last night? Or if he’s regretting apologizing to me. I would be, if I were him.

I’ve done what I needed to do; there’s nothing more to say. I stare Maxine down, keeping our gazes locked, hoping beyond all hope that she’ll let this go, that she’ll walk away and keep herself safe. I couldn’t bear it if she ended up like Parrish, tied to a chair and bleeding to death. I need her to walk away until this is over.

“Dakota, this is bullshit. I’ve told Maxine everything that I know, all the strange things you’ve been doing since Parrish went missing. Neither of us believes that you mean any of the things you’ve been saying or doing. Whatever’s happening, you can trust us.”

“Leave me the fuck alone,” I grind out, realizing suddenly that Maxx is the one that brought me here. I need to call Chasm for a ride. I ignore them both, pulling my phone out and sending a quick text. Please come get me quickly. At the coffee shop.

He responds so fast that I catch the message before slipping the phone back in my pocket.

OMW Little Sister.

“I don’t know why you’re saying these things to me, but for the record, I don’t believe any of them.” Maxine rises to her feet, tears still streaming down her face. I do my very best not to look at her. There’s nothing I can do about the tears on my own face, but I keep my gaze focused on the table, as if I truly don’t care that I’ve just hurt the person I love the most in all the world. “We’ll talk about this later, but I’m … I’m hurt right now. I just … I need to go.”

She grabs her canvas bag and takes off; X follows after like the good boyfriend that he is. He truly cares about my sister, that much is obvious. I’m glad that she has someone to take care of her right now; she deserves that.

I put my elbows on the table and my face in my hands. Every time I think that things can’t get any worse, they do. This is harder than finding a dead girl in a box, than delivering her body to her murderer’s house, than discovering Mr. Volli is on this, or shooting a corpse. This is the worst of all.

Several minutes later, the door to the café opens again and I look up, hoping for Chasm but finding Maxx.

Crap.

My eyes widen as he storms over to me, slamming his palms down on the table so hard that the employees start murmuring amongst themselves. Factoring in my luck—or lack thereof—as of late, it wouldn’t surprise me if they kicked us out and told us to never come back.

“She’s devastated, Kota. She climbed in her car and took off like a bat out of hell. What if she gets into a wreck? Can you handle having your sister’s death on your conscious?”

I grit my teeth, but what can I do? If I call her now, it’ll only make things worse. Maxine really might crash; Parrish could die.

“I feel sick.” I shove up to my feet and take off for the women’s bathroom, assuming that X won’t follow me. He does anyway. Luckily, it’s just the two of us in there, but if the employees hadn’t considered kicking us out before, they might now.

I try to escape him by slipping into a stall, but he reaches his hand into my blazer pocket and snatches my phone before I can stop him. I whirl around, but it’s too late. He’s turning the phone on and …

“What are you doing?!” I choke out as he grabs my hand and presses my finger to the screen, unlocking the phone with my fingerprint. “X, stop!” I don’t even bother to try to keep my voice down. If somebody comes in here to check on us, great. I want to be kicked out. I really need him not to look through that phone.

I recorded that last video call so Chasm could see it before I deleted it. I’ve been making sure to factory reset the phone every night; this proves to me exactly why that’s necessary.

Maxx presses play just before I tackle him. Like, I mean, I really tackle him. I throw my full body weight into his, but he’s a hell of a lot taller than me and thick with muscle. There’s just something about that chiseled motocross body that makes it feel more like I’m tackling a rock than a person.

He just grabs my arm and forces me back a step, his eyes on the screen and not on me.

I consider screaming, but I don’t want anyone else to walk in here and accidentally see the video.

It starts to play, and his eyes widen, the sound of my voice and Mr. Volli’s echoing around the bathroom. X uses his thumb to scroll farther into the video until … he sees Parrish.

“What the actual fuck ?!” he snarls, his wide-eyed gaze flicking down to mine.

Without thinking, I throw myself at him again, but this time, I don’t tackle him. I wrap my arms around his waist in a huge hug, and I squeeze him as tightly as I can. I put every ounce of love I feel for Parrish and Maxine into that hug, just so he’ll know, so he’ll listen to me.

“Please,” I whisper, my voice cracking, my cheek pressed against Maxx’s citrus-smelling t-shirt. I fist my hands in the back of his unzipped windbreaker. “Please, Maxx. You can’t tell anyone about this. You can’t. If you do, Parrish will die.”

I can see Maxx’s face in the mirror to my right. His eyes are even wider now, his mouth half-open in surprise. He’s shaking, too, and the video’s still playing. My love confession a heart-wrenching echo against the pink-tiled walls.

“I love you, too,” video-Parrish replies in his sad, broken voice. “Dakota, you need to tell Maxine that you don’t want to see her anymore.”

“What the … fuck?” X repeats, turning the video off and setting it on the edge of the sink. He very carefully reaches out and grabs my arms, forcefully extricating himself from me like I’m crafted of poison and hate, a toxic monster to be removed and cast aside. He keeps my forearms in his strong grip and pushes me back a step. “Please don’t touch me,” he chokes out.

His words hurt, but I try not to let them puncture my soul too deeply. He has every right to hate me, to feel disgusted by me.

“Maxx, I need you to listen to me,” I start, just before the bathroom door opens and a freaked-out looking employee in an apron pops his head in.

“Hey, um, could you take your lovers’ quarrel outside? You’re upsetting the other customers.”

“Yeah, sorry, sorry,” Maxx mutters, snatching my phone and shoving it into his own pocket before I get an opportunity to steal it back. He snatches my hand in his, and the employee gives me a look.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to call the police?”

“No, I’m alright. We just …” I glance up at Maxx, but he won’t look at me. Instead, he’s swallowing hard and staring at anything and everything but me. “We just broke up. But I’ll be okay.” I make myself smile. What’s another forced smile? I’m sure they number in the trillions by now.

We skirt past the employee and out the front door, pausing beneath the awning as rain pours down like a waterfall on three sides.

“I need you to give me my phone back,” I tell him, trying to maintain my calm. On the inside, I’m a hot mess. Maxx Wright knows. He knows. And what he does with that information will determine all our fates, one way or another.

“Here,” he says, ignoring my statement and slipping out of his Wright Family Racing windbreaker. He hands it over to me. “Cover your head, and let’s run.”

I bite my lip, torn about what I should do here and totally and utterly forgetting about Chasm in the chaos.

“Little Sister!” It’s Chas, running through the rain down the sidewalk. He skids a bit on the wet pavement, coming to rest beside me, panting and soaking wet. His yellow and black hair is stuck to his forehead, and when he reaches up to push it back, my heart skips a whole beat. He has that much of a pull over me, and I just didn’t realize it, the power to adjust my internal rhythm with a simple gesture. “Are you fucking with her again, X?”

“You know about this,” Maxx accuses, his voice thin and husky as he tosses the windbreaker at my chest and pulls my phone from his jeans pocket. He shakes it at Chas for emphasis, and then grabs my hand again. I try to yank out of his grip, but he’s like, stupid strong. Handling that bike has given him corded forearms of steel.

He presses my finger to the screen and unlocks it again before thrusting the phone into Chasm’s hands.

Chas looks around, but there’s nobody out here. Traffic streams by in a slow but steady wave, but nobody can hear or see us in the rain, under the awning.

“Are you okay with me watching this?” Chasm asks, and Maxx scowls at him.

“Seriously?!” he snaps, pointing at the screen with a finger. “Fucking watch it, McKenna!”

“Go ahead,” I agree, my voice this distant, floating thing, like a helium balloon that’s escaped the bunch. Up, up, up I go, twisting away with the breeze, joining the clouds … popping, falling, probably killing some sea life. Ugh. I definitely was not born with Tess’ gifts for words and metaphors. “The damage is already done.”

“What the hell?” Chas murmurs under his breath, but then he hits play, his face paling as Maxx moves up beside him to watch the video call play out. I can’t stand to look at it again, so I step back, leaning against the brick exterior of the coffee shop and closing my eyes.

I can’t hide from the sound though. The sound of my voice. Of Parrish’s. Mr. Volli.

“Oh god,” Chasm groans, and I open my eyes to see him biting his knuckles. “Parrish.” He lifts his amber eyes to look at me. “He doesn’t look good, Little Sister. He looks really, really fucking bad.”

“I know,” I whisper, using the wall to hold myself up. “I know he does.”

“So you did know about it? All of it.” This last part is a definitive statement, one threaded through with deep-seated anger and betrayal. Maxx is mad but … because we kept this from him? A small flicker of hope fires to life inside of me.

“We need to find Danyella,” Chasm says suddenly, looking up at me. “We have to find her now and tell her so Parrish can get out of that goddamn chair.” He thrusts the phone back at me and then starts to mutter in Korean. He’s talking so fast that I couldn’t understand him even if I did speak the language.

“Chasm.” Maxx grabs his friend’s arm and shakes him. “Kwang-seon.”

Chas looks up at him.

“What?!” he snaps, switching back to English. He asks that question two more times, once in Korean and once in Japanese. I recognize those words from my K-drama and anime obsessions. “I don’t think you quite understand what’s happening, so let me give you the recap: Parrish dies if you open your fat trap. He dies if Dakota doesn’t obey this psycho. And he dies if we don’t get him a bed to sleep in or a chance at a goddamn shower.”

Maxx pauses, withdrawing his hand slightly. He looks chagrined, but only a little.

“I got the gist, Chas.” His emerald eyes swing over to me. “I’m not going to say anything. I’d like a better explanation of things, but … what do you need me to do right now?” He exhales heavily as I cuddle his windbreaker against my chest. I just need something to hold onto.

“Danyella,” I say, dreading my next move. I’ve already made my sister hate me today, so what’s one more person added to the list? “Let’s just get that over with so Parrish can sleep.” I close my eyes again, gathering my emotions into a tangled ball of twine and then shoving that stupid fucking ball down my own throat.

I have to stay calm and focused here.

Maxx is … he looks okay right now. Maybe Chas was right? Maybe we should’ve told him?

“You’re not going to tell anyone anything, right?” I repeat, and even though his nostrils flare, he nods once.

“I would never do anything to hurt Parrish,” he tells me, looking directly into my eyes. Somehow, I feel like he’s telling me more than one thing in that moment, giving me a secret that he’s only just found out about himself.

It’s a secret that’ll take me a few more days to figure out.

But when I do, I’ll hate myself even more for it.

That’s Justin’s goal, right? To destroy my character. If so, he’s doing an admirable job of it.