I PARK IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE-HOUSE on Monday afternoon, but I don’t turn off the car. I’ve half a mind to just kick my good ole hatchback into gear and drive straight home. Let Dad pay off the rest of the book fee—even though it’s probably still more than we can afford. I’ll find a different job to pay him back. I’ll even resort to Craigslist and risk getting murdered by some Hydra-hailing Ted Bundy with an alarming collection of The Killing Joke and the Reddit username FIGHTTHESJWS to find another copy of that waterlogged priceless volume of Starfield.

Honestly, that sounds at least a little more exciting than just the thought of facing Vance Reigns again. Vance Reigns, who was my mystery prince at ExcelsiCon, the guy I’d been daydreaming about—stupidly daydreaming about.

Because I’m such a fool.

“Pull yourself together, Thorne,” I tell myself. “You can do this. He’s just a guy. A very hot…very tall…very good-looking…asshole.” I thump my head against the steering wheel and accidentally honk the horn.

I jerk back in my chair, and quickly turn off the car.

Okay.

Amara up, Rosie. You can do this.

Just march in there, like Amara’s gonna march on the Prospero in the second movie, and take no shit from Vance Reigns. You have one goal, and he isn’t it. And you’re free of your crutches. You are strong and independent and—

I take a deep steadying breath, grab my bookbag, and get out of the car.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You’ll be okay. Just go in, do your job.

When I get to the door, I let myself in with the key under the mat. I dump my bookbag on the barstool where I always do, but Mr. Rodriguez is nowhere to be found. Usually, if he’s gone when I come in, he leaves a note on the counter, but there isn’t one today.

I wonder where he is.

“Mr. Rodriguez?” I call, wandering into the living room. I step outside onto the back patio with the pool, but he’s not back here either, and neither is Sansa.

Where could they be?

I turn and grab the handle for the sliding glass door—but it won’t budge. I try again. The door rattles.

And I realize: I’ve locked myself out.

A rumble of thunder rolls overhead.