“Wake up.”

Two days after my victory on Sin’s motorcycle, I’m awoken to silver beams of moonlight falling across the foot of the bed. Grainger is on guard duty tonight, but it isn’t him that touched my shoulder and gently shook me awake.

It’s Beast.

I sit up suddenly, relieved to see him. When he disappeared the other day, I wondered if Gaz wouldn’t be more vigilant, angrier, edgier. There’s no doubt in my mind that Beast could kick Gaz’s ass, but what if Gaz lured Beast into a mafia stronghold or something?

He’s a man, not a superhero.

“The fuck is going on?” Grainger grumbles, yanking the chain of the light next to his chair. He looks like death warmed-over as he swipes a hand over his face. The fire is low, but it casts strange shadows on his cheekbones, his jaw, catches the metal of his lip piercings and makes them shine.

I sit up suddenly, rubbing at my eyes, wary of being woken up in the middle of the night. Does that ever turn out well?

“Please tell me someone isn’t dead,” I murmur, doing my best to blink the sleep from my eyes.

“Come with me, darlin’,” Beast says as my mind spins with possibilities. None of which are particularly good. Not exactly an answer to my question. Whatever this is, though, it’s important.

I hurry out of bed, grabbing leather pants and Beast’s jacket; I assume we’re leaving the compound.

“Am I invited on this reconnaissance mission?” Grainger growls at me, suddenly out of the chair and standing far too close to my ass as I bend over to yank the pants on.

He goes to cup me from behind, and Beast grabs his wrist.

“So long as you get yourself together,” he drawls with enough exasperation in his voice that I figure maybe things aren’t so bad as they seem.

We get dressed and head downstairs, leaving through the back door and heading for the rear gate. Beast doesn’t seem concerned about anyone seeing us, so I don’t worry about it either. It occurs to me then that there are some positives to sharing the load. The burden of being discovered isn’t on me; it isn’t something I even need to let flicker in the recesses of my mind.

Beast has it covered.

Without even asking, I take up residence on the back of his bike, his jacket a comforting weight on my shoulders. As soon as my arms go around him, my body reacts, and heat curls through me, amplifying the faint chill in the air. It isn’t nearly as cold as it usually is this time of year, and that bothers me.

It feels ominous somehow, that strange heat.

As we head into town, I close my eyes. It’s dark anyway, so there isn’t much to look at. Also, with my eyes closed, I can feel the way Beast controls his bike so much better. It’s like an extension of his powerful body, like he’s got wings made of steel. We fly along the curves of the road, heading right back to that fateful spot.

To the Palm Motel.

“What are we doing here?” I ask after we’ve discreetly parked and found a shadowy spot near the dumpsters. Normally, I wouldn’t dare approach an area like this. The sorts of men you find in this kind of darkness? Nobody you want to know or run into.

Thing is, I’ve got the sort of men who eat those sorts of men for breakfast on either side of me.

“Watch.” Beast leans his back against the dumpster and waits, looking up at the top floor of the motel. I do as he says, even as Grainger grumbles about being woken up under his breath.

It takes about a half an hour, but eventually, a door opens upstairs and a man walks out. He heads to the vending machines, taking an inordinate amount of time to select a drink. Something about that, about the way he studies the soda machine makes something click inside of me.

That endless staring, that contemplative swagger.

Grey.

I start to move, but Cade’s hand lashes out, fingers curling around my arm and holding me in place. He is dangerously close to a kick in the balls.

“What was the deal?” he asks, voice like iron.

The deal is, like Sin requested, when we’re out in the field, I … defer to the four of them.

Right.

“What is Grey doing at a club-owned motel?” I ask instead, glancing back at Beast.

“He’s been here all along, it seems,” he tells me, musing on the idea of a mafia brat ghosting beneath our radar all this time. “I’ve been tracking your brother, just to see what he’s getting up to. As of right now, that ain’t much.” He turns as Gaz comes out of one of the other rooms—room two to be exact—with a girl on his arm. “But he comes here a lot. Too much, actually. Yesterday, he visited your friend’s room.”

Is Reba with Grey? I wonder, but I don’t ask the question because I’m not ready for the answer just yet.

“Let me talk to him,” I say, feeling Grainger’s fingers tighten on my arm. “Not Gaz,” I correct, as if that somehow makes any of this better. “Grey.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Grainge asks, looking at Beast like he’s seeking support for his position. “What we should do is let Cat know, bring some big guns over here, and kill that brat.”

“Let her talk to him,” Beast offers up, a surprisingly generous man. He isn’t at all what I expected of him. It makes me wonder about his past, about his time as a fighter, as a champion . I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve looked up videos of his old fights, that I’ve let my fingers trail down my stomach and into my pants, that I’ve rubbed my clit while watching him, muscles slick with sweat and sometimes blood.

Oh yes.

“If we don’t like him, or we don’t like what he has to say, we’ll kill ‘im.” He moves past me as Grainger curses, dragging me along by the arm. I let him, if only to stop him from bitching me out. We skirt around the side of the building opposite where Gaz has just left with his new girl, the one he hasn’t killed. Yet.

One day, one day soon, my brother is going to have to die. I’ve come to peace with that. Whether it’s by my hand, by one of my men, or someone else entirely, has yet to be determined.

We’re at Grey’s door in less than thirty seconds … but he’s already opening it, like he was expecting us.

“Come in,” he says, standing aside. He waits for the three of us to enter the room, closing and locking the door before turning to me. Grey reaches for me, but Grainger steps between us, every movement he makes a clear threat.

“If you touch her, I’ll blow your head off.” He lifts up his Ruger and puts the barrel between Grey’s eyes.

It’s nothing either of us is unfamiliar with.

“Are you okay?” Grey asks me instead, ignoring the gun to his head with an admirable level of self-control. His eyes are the same piercing gray color, but everything else about him looks different. He’s got stubble on his face which throws me a bit, and his hair is longer and more disheveled than before. His demeanor though, is the thing that throws me most. He’s asking if I’m okay, but there’s a coldness in his gaze that I’m not sure was there when I left.

Or rather, when I told him to run, and he climbed into a pipe organ and disappeared.

“I’m fine,” I say, letting my eyes search the room. It’s a disgusting room to begin with—a bit of mildew on the ceiling, brightly colored coverlets left over from the eighties, and stained carpets that have certainly seen better days. As for Grey’s personal effects or impact on the room, he could very well be a ghost.

The beds are made, the wastebasket empty, the curtains closed.

The only sign of life is a pair of food containers stacked atop one another on the nightstand.

“She’s fine, but you might not be for long,” Grainger continues as Beast moves over to the bathroom door and reaches for the handle.

“Don’t,” Grey warns, but not in a surprised or anxious voice. It sounds like … a command? One that Beast doesn’t heed as he tests the door and then, with a single kick of his boot, dislodges it from the frame.

A woman screams from inside, and the hair on my arms stands on end.

I’d recognize that voice anywhere.

I’m tearing across the floor so quickly that my boots slip on the hideous rose-pink shag. My arm knocks Beast’s gun aside as I push past him and find Reba pressed to the wall of the shower, the curtain pulled across her nakedness.

My heart swells with pride, breaks, reforms itself, does the same song and dance all over again.

That’s my girl, prudish enough to think of covering her body when the door is kicked in and a gun is pointed at her. I once described the pair of us as sin and salvation. Looking at her now, I don’t wonder if she isn’t the incarnation of good, the virgin Mary perhaps. If so, then perhaps I’m not just the devil’s daughter, but something else, a Lilith, a she-demon.

“Jesus Mary motherfucking Christ,” I choke out, and somehow, I end up on my knees in front of her, like I’m praying.

“D-don’t take those names in vain,” Reba manages to whisper back at me as Beast crosses his arms in front of him and lowers his gaze. He does not, however, turn away because he’s that good. He’s that worried about me. About being here.

My friend scrambles to get her towel from the towel bar, covering herself with it and scrambling out of the tub to kneel beside me. The water is still running, the heat of it fogging up the mirror and warming the room. Neither of us gives a shit.

We’re alternately crying and laughing, but I’m not sure who’s doing which exactly. There are tears either way.

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” I whisper, swallowing hard and stroking some of her bloodred hair back from her pale face. This is, was, and will forever remain one of my favorite moments in life. It trumps most things I’ve experienced and then ties the rest.

Some of her hair comes loose again as she laughs, swinging in front of her pale throat, reminding me of her mother’s second smile.

Shit.

“To tell you the truth, darlin’, I didn’t see myself making it out alive either.” She lifts her head up and spots Beast still standing there. A very sharp, very clear frown takes over her face. “You, sir, are a brute. There is a naked lady in here. Didn’t your mama raise you better than that? Close the dang door.”

Even with his head bowed, I feel like I can see a bit of a smile on Beast’s face.

Both he and Reba were born and raised in Tennessee. One from Nashville, the other from Chattanooga. They have similar accents, but very different personalities.

“My mama raised me to find the right woman and treat her right, Miss Keller. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He taps the barrel of the gun against his thigh, like a reminder of the current situation we’re in.

Right.

Grey.

Gaz.

The mafia.

I rise to my feet, taking Reba’s face between my hands as she frowns up at me.

“What happened to you anyway?” she asks, more concerned for my well-being than her own. As always. Forever. A real and true friend. How someone as wicked and horrible as me ever managed to snag one of those, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand. I guess it emphasizes what Beast said, about the world being more gray than it is black and white.

This, me being Reba’s friend when she’s a vastly superior human, is like the color of fog, silvery and wispy and oh so many shades of gray.

“What happened to me ?” I sputter, releasing her face and then grabbing her hand. I pull her up and drag her toward the door, but she digs her heels in and gives me one of her famous looks.

“I am not walking into that room with a bunch of grown men when I have no clothes on—especially not if that man is out there.” We both know who she’s talking about, and I hate to admit it, but it’s true.

“It’s motherfucking Grainger,” I agree as Beast withdraws into the room to stay by my side, and Reba closes the bathroom door with a very ladylike snick. I turn back to Grey. My most irritating lover still has his gun trained on the guy. “Can you please put that gun down?” I ask, but Cade ignores me. I curl my lip at him but arguing with Grainger is a pointless exercise.

I refocus on Grey instead.

“I’m glad to see you’ve found your place in the club,” he tells me, which is about as shady and underhanded as one can get. It reminds me of the way he used to murmur Italian things to me every morning, just to annoy me with that crisp accent of us.

“The last I saw you, you had a gun to my best friend’s forehead.” I don’t mention the dead parents just yet. There’ll be time for that later. “What the hell happened, Grey?”

He wets his lips, eyes flicking to Grainger. Their gazes meet, and the latter’s finger tenses on the trigger of the Ruger.

“Don’t you dare,” I hiss at him, my voice darkly serious. “If you hurt him, I will never forgive you. My love will die on the vine, Grainge.”

“Your love?” he chokes out, his eyes flying to mine. “Jesus Christ, girl. Are you nuts?” He withdraws the gun finally, resting the butt of it on his shoulder, the barrel pointed at the ceiling. “Don’t even go there. Nobody ever said anything about love.”

“If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t have lied, you dumbass,” I snort, shaking my head and shoving my dark hair back from my face. Grainger straight up growls at me, but I’m not listening to him right now. “Well?” I press, trying not to get too weird about how long Reba’s been in the bathroom.

There are no windows in there; I’m being paranoid.

“My father has never wanted to kill anyone more than he wants to kill you,” Grey tells me with all due seriousness. “He thought he had you pegged, but now he thinks you intentionally crashed into our roadblock with the sole purpose of finding our compound.”

A strange, neurotic sounding sort of laugh escapes me.

Am I really still a high school senior? Really? Getting my GED at a later date is a much more likely option than ever getting my diploma. That is, if I live that long. Might be dead before graduation at this rate.

“That’s … a unique perspective,” I say as Grainger taps the butt of the gun against his muscular shoulder, his lips pursed, eyes half-lidded as he stares Grey down. I certainly wouldn’t want to piss him off right now. That is, if I weren’t his favorite person. Because, as weird as it sounds, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I am. Cade Grainger’s favorite human. His … woman. Gag. “Provided I were that legendary, I can see why he went after Reba.”

My jaw clenches tight against the pain. I got her parents killed. Me. Exactly me.

The bathroom door finally opens, and Reba emerges. When I first see Grey look at her, I feel this shock of alarm. Because the way he’s studying her, it feels like he very well could be in love. But then I realize that he’s looking at her the same way he looks at me: like a friend.

When did that happen?

Sometime in the last few weeks apparently.

“Grey treat you okay?” I ask, even though I know he’ll have done the best he could, given the circumstances. And those circumstances? They most certainly were not ideal.

“He’s been a perfect gentleman,” Reba says, lifting her scooped button nose. There’s something else though, a tightening in her throat, a quiver in her mouth, that says maybe she isn’t telling the full truth.

Also, Reba is far too pale to hide the numerous bruises splashed across her arms and legs, her chest and belly, basically every part of her that I saw in the shower as well as all of her currently exposed skin.

“How is she …?” The words die on my lips. How is she … still alive? How is she relatively unharmed? How is she not sold into a sex dungeon?

“My father gave her to me when I asked,” Grey tells me, but then he frowns and reaches up to push his sandy blond hair back. He looks so young, but so resolved, too, like he’s entering this world against his will but with full fervor. Just like me. “Just the act of doing that pissed him the fuck off. He doesn’t trust me, but I really need him to.”

“How exactly are you planning on managing that?” I ask, just as Beast moves over to the window and peels the curtain back to peer out.

“Gaz is on his way up here,” Beast tells me as I give Grey a sharp look.

“What else was I going to give him, Gidget? You just have to make sure you get your asses out of here.”

There it is. Grey is standing here and admitting that he’s just sold me out.

That is, and likely will always be, the future of our relationship. We are still at war. It’s just that he and I play a different sort of game.

“How long do we have?” I ask, stepping between Grey and Cade before things get violent. “We’ll talk about this later, but I need you to trust me, Grainge. Give me that, okay? As good as your lies, I want your trust.”

He curses at me, but he lowers his weapon yet again as Beast slips out the door and closes it behind him.

“About … twenty seconds,” Grey tells me after glancing down at his phone. He looks up as I turn to Grainger, grabbing Reba’s hand in my right one.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hear Gaz ask. He’s just outside the door, but we don’t have the time to wait for him to leave. Unfortunately, that means that he’ll see us here, that he’ll have confirmation of what he already suspected.

Shit.

“Fifteen seconds,” Grey continues, giving me an almost apologetic grimace along with the warning.

With yet another colorful curse, Grainger wrenches the door open and the three of us step out. Just before we go, I turn and punch Grey as hard as I can in the face. He stumbles back bleeding, smiling through the red.

I’m not being an ass here, but he needs some explanation as to why Reba is now missing. Why he didn’t deliver me as promised. The only sketchy part of the situation is going to be the fact that he’s still alive. I should rightfully kill him.

Maybe he can spin his story the way I’m trying to spin mine? Grey loves me, even if I don’t love him. That’s why he wants to deal with me and only me.

He can tell his family the opposite, that I love him, even though he doesn’t love me back.

The lie still works because it’s at least partially true. We do love each other; we’re just not in love.

“Make it look real,” he whispers, and even though it makes my skin crawl, I take my Magnum, and I pistol-whip him. Hard.

Grey crumples to the floor, but he’s still moving so that’s a good sign.

This whole thing is insane.

It’s absolutely insane.

“Get the girl and let’s go,” a voice calls out from the parking lot. It sounds vaguely familiar, and when I hazard a look over the railing, I notice another man in a DBD cut looking up at us. He’s new, last I remember he was a prospect, but he must’ve patched in since. What was his name? Something food-related. Caper, I think. The guy who dumped my bloody dog in my lap.

I think … Gaz was his sponsor.

“Gidget?” the guy asks, seemingly surprised to see me here. I barely know him, but he’ll know me. They all do. As best they should. I’m about to ruin their lives. “Why is your fucking sister here?”

“There’s more than one of you, eh?” Grainger asks Gaz. He’s just a few steps away from us, staring at me, flicking his eyes to Reba. I wish I could describe the triumphant rage in his face, but then I’d probably vomit. My brother is just that repulsive. “That makes sense.” The two men stare at each other, and then it clicks in Gaz’s thick skull. There’s more than one of you. There’s also more than one of us.

Two different sets of traitors; two completely different motives.

Gaz’s eyes move past me, and I can see in them both a certain sense of desperation and also a sprinkling of fear. He knows he’s been caught, but also, he’s caught us. What a clusterfuck.

Beast steps forward, encouraging Gaz to move back against the railing.

“You’re in big trouble, little sister,” he sneers as Grainger, Reba, and I slip past, and Beast watches our back. There’s nothing more to be said, and we’re running out of time.

We aren’t halfway down the alley, Beast trailing behind us, before the sound of gunfire echoes in the warm night air.

“Here it goes,” Beast murmurs, shaking his head.

“For every day that you delay, we destroy something. Every day, we add another person to the tally.”

At least now, we have Reba back.

In the nick of time. Seconds to spare.

Wow, Grey. Just … wow.

“He let me find him here, by the way,” Beast adds as he pulls out his phone and dials up Cat. Just like I did the day my sisters died, when I had to choose between 911 and my father. It’s always daddy, every fucking time. “That Grey kid. He’s dangerous as hell.”

Hearing Beast say that is scary. Interesting. The entire world would be different if I’d just killed Grey like I’d been told. For better or worse, we’ll have to see.

I glance over at Reba to find her watching me. We aren’t in her element anymore—that is, school, church, normal life. Maybe we never were. Anyhow, we are most definitely, thoroughly, and irrevocably entrenched in mine.

“I’m at the Palm,” Beast says, and then he’s walking, and I can’t hear anything else he’s saying.

“He’s leaving, but you stay?” Reba asks, giving Grainger a harsh look. It’s a bit of bravado, I can tell. She’s scared shitless so she’s putting on a good show. Makes me like her more because I’m the same damn way. “How on earth did we come to that sort of arrangement?”

Grainger studies her for a minute and then gives me a look, one that’s very clearly a warning.

You can’t keep her, he says, with just a single expression.

I should send Reba on a plane to … Paris? Does she have a passport? How about the Catskills in New York? I hear that’s nice. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but with me.

“Don’t you dare,” she murmurs, grabbing onto my arm. “We are in this together.” Her eyes well with tears, and I realize it then. She knows about her parents. She might have even …

I throw my arms around her and hold her close. Grainger doesn’t like it, but he lets me do it.

“What the fuck are we going to tell Cat?” he asks, and not for the first—or nearly the last—time.

“You brought this girl here ?” Cat growls out, giving Crown such a dark look that it’s hard to remember he’s supposed to be his righthand man. “Why the fuck would you do that?”

“This is Gidget’s friend,” Crown tells him in a very, shall I say, Crown-like way. That is, I realize he’s telling Cat exactly what he would’ve said whether I was involved in this or not. Whether he cared about me or not. This is what he actually believes. “She has nowhere to go. Her parents are dead, and as long as the mafia is after Gidget, they’re after her friend.”

Cat looks over at Reba, blindfolded and sitting primly on the edge of one of Gram’s old sofas. The exact sofa, actually, that I got fucked on by four dudes in quick succession. Sort of. Beast gave me a taste but remains an elusive shadow.

Reba never needs to know about any of that. Well, she’ll probably hear about it because I have a big mouth, but she won’t ever know it’s that precise sofa.

I wait at the edge of the room, dressed in pj’s and exuding pure … well, I wouldn’t say innocence because Cat would never believe that. But something else. Ignorance, at least.

The story here is: I’ve been home all along, but the boys found Reba at the Palm Motel during their standoff with the mafia. I can’t help but wonder how many people died there tonight, how many people Crown killed, or Beast, or Sin. Unfortunately for me, I got to keep Grainger by my side all night long. He’s in a foul mood, too. He doesn’t like Grey, doesn’t like my relationship with him, really isn’t a fan of Reba’s presence.

“She’s been turning tricks in the motel for weeks,” Crown lies in a low voice, stepping in close to his president. The purple bruises on Reba’s body lend credence to the idea. “The room we found her in has been occupied for the same period of time; the tenant’s name was a bullshit pseudonym.” He exhales like he’s tired—which I’m pretty sure isn’t a ruse at all. “Like all the Palm’s clientele.”

My father studies Reba like a specimen under a microscope, analyzing her, dissecting her with his sharp gaze. If he thinks she’s in any way a threat to the club, he’ll take her to Uncle Benny’s cabin and torture information out of her.

I have to remember that he killed Kian when he didn’t have to.

Cat is ruthless.

He’s also watched Reba grow up alongside me. I hope like hell that he sees something in her, some spark of his dead daughters in this woman, some reason to grant her mercy. If he doesn’t, then we’re all in trouble. Because I will go to my grave trying to save Reba.

I believe in my heart that the guys, they’ll go to the grave defending me.

Cat, at the very least, must know that Reba doesn’t have any insider information about the club. The Grey Wolfe mafia could torture her to within an inch of her life and what could she possibly say? Nothing. Because she doesn’t know anything. I’ve never allowed that.

Still, it isn’t an easy role, to play best friend to a club princess.

“Someone brought her there, Cat,” Crown continues, gently pushing the idea of Gaz’s betrayal through subtle, roundabout ways. “I don’t know who or why, but I can only guess she was bait for Gidget. Otherwise, why leave her there during the attack? They’re looking for an emotional response from our side. They’re trying to prove they can function on our territory, right under our goddamn noses.”

My father rubs his beard, flicking his gaze over to me. My pulse is thundering, my palms are sweaty, and if I thought it would help, I would throw myself at Cat’s feet and beg for mercy. Regardless of any suspicions he might have toward me, he knows that I took an Uzi and mowed down the mafia crowd.

My actions must speak louder than words because I swear, I can see Cat’s expression shifting.

“Worst case scenario, she works for us,” Crown adds after a spell. I just hope Reba can’t hear that in the next room. I would never allow that. I would die before I would accept that. Crown knows it. This particular addition to the conversation is solely to please Cat. Crown wouldn’t go through with turning Reba into a hooker either.

“I’m not about murdering little nuns,” Cat growls out, hooking a thumb in my direction. “Send her upstairs with Gidget for now and I’ll figure out what to do with her later—she doesn’t leave the compound without my permission.”

He takes off and Crown moves forward, removing Reba’s blindfold and taking her by the forearm.

She swallows hard as she approaches me, green eyes watering.

We head upstairs and slip into the bedroom; I make sure to slam the door in Grainger’s face. I want some alone time with Reba. Also, pissing him off like that will make the sex better later.

“Gidge,” Reba murmurs, looking around the room like it’s an alien spaceship. “This isn’t good, any of this.”

“Which part?” I ask, wanting to inquire about her parents, but unsure how to go about bringing it up. I guess if she needs to talk, she’ll initiate something and I’ll listen. That seems fair.

“Everything.” Reba checks the balcony, and then gives a sob of relief when Fem lifts his head from the deck and then stands up, carefully stretching his one remaining front leg in front of him. “Oh, thank the Lord himself.” She squats low and gives the dog a hug at least as enthusiastic as mine if not more. “We got close while you were gone,” she admits, and I feel a small pang of regret.

Oddly, the regret is both for being gone and also for coming back. It’s okay to feel opposing feelings sometimes, isn’t it?

“I also got pretty close with Grey,” she says softly, and my eyes widen.

“Did you fuck him?” I blurt, and Reba throws me this look of sheer horror. It occurs to me then that she might’ve been … Shit. I’m such an idiot.

“You’re a hot mess is what you are,” Reba murmurs, stroking Fem’s triangular ears before rising to her feet. “And of course I did not”—here she stumbles a bit—“make love to that man. That might be how your mind works, but it isn’t how mine does.” She puts her hands on her hips and looks me over.

“I’m sorry, Reba,” I say, my voice softening as I feel my usual anger fade under her emerald gaze. “I shouldn’t be asking things like that. I don’t know what you’ve been through …” I trail off, because it occurs to me then that I sound exactly like Cat.

“Because of Grey, I stand here whole and hale,” she says, nodding her chin to punctuate the phrase.

Because of Grey … well, in spite of Grey maybe. In spite of me.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Reba chokes out, turning away suddenly and closing her eyes against the memories. She saw her parents slaughtered in front of her. That’s not an easy thing to get over. Actually, it’s not something you ever get over, just a limp, a constantly bleeding wound, a missing eye that you learn to get along without. “Are you dating that man again?” she asks, though we both know I never actually dated him before.

“I’m …” The words fail me as I lift my hands up and then let them fall by my sides. I’m just so happy to see her, and so sorry for everything that’s gone down. “Engaged to Beast.”

That gives Reba serious pause. She actually turns her head like a heroine in a horror movie, too slow to be real, too disturbed.

“You’re engaged to one of them?” she asks, eyes wide. “I mean, if I had to pick one, at least he has manners. But dear god, Gidget. You’re eighteen. He’s thirty-three years old.”

That makes me smile. That’s the part of the equation she’s most worried about? The age gap bit?

“I’m embroiled in a war between two gangs, Reba,” I explain patiently. She won’t truly understand what it means that they lied for me, laid their lives and their loyalty on the line for my heroic whim. “Also, have you seen him? He could go viral on any social media platform he wanted; he’s that hot.”

She just keeps staring, and then moves over to put her arms around me. We hug each other tight in the dark, enjoying the safety and comfort of friendship. A love with no expectations and no caveats. As much as I enjoy those four men, there’s … I mean, there’s a lot to unpack. It’s far from uncomplicated.

“I’m just glad it isn’t Grainger,” she murmurs, and I decide that she’s been through enough. I’ll explain my arrangement with Beast in the morning.