We stand there in the cold, the snow starting to drift down again. My phone buzzes in my hand.
That’s a warning.
Next is fire.
I stare at the screen, the words blurring.
“We need to make sure the police know about the arson threat,” I say, my voice shaking. “He’s high. He’s not going to stop.”
“We’ll talk to the police together,” Knox says, taking the phone from my hand to read the message. He crushes it in his grip. “We’ll tell them everything.”
He takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “Let’s get Jude and the rest. We’re going to the station together. No one splits up.”
I let him lead me back toward the lights of the school, but the cold has settled deep in my bones. The feeling of safety I had earlier is gone, replaced by a sick, familiar dread.
He’s here again. The last time Luke was close to my family, Norah’s pack almost ended up in prison for assaulting him to protect me.
He plays the victim perfectly, and the system protects him.
And now, I’ve put everyone I love in the crossfire.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Knox
The cold airbites at my cheeks, but the fire in my gut burns hotter than any winter chill. I stand on the steps of the Fox Hollow Police Department, my hands fisted deep in the pockets of my coat.
Inside, the fluorescent lights hum, a sterile, clinical sound that grates against the memory of Maisie’s triumphant laughter echoing in the gymnasium just an hour ago.
Life pivots on a dime. One minute, we’re celebrating a debate victory; the next, we’re staring at the brick face of law enforcement because a ghost from Amber’s past decided to resurface.
But it’s the not knowing that claws at me the most. Why is he here? Why now? The uncertainty is a poison, far worse than a direct threat.
If he wanted money, he would have asked. If he wanted to hurt her, he had his chance in the parking lot. But he ran.
He’s plotting something, and the shadow of that unknown intent is terrifying.
Jude and Ryker stand near the entrance, talking in low, urgent tones to Mayor Brighton. The mayor looks grave.
Wren is there too, clutching Simon’s arm. Simon holds their baby girl, who is sleeping despite the tension, her head tucked against his chest.
I look at Eli. He has Amber wrapped in his arms, her face buried in his chest. Her shoulders shake, a fine tremor that vibrates through his own frame.
He strokes her back, his eyes meeting mine over the top of her head. He looks wrecked. Destroyed.
Fallon stands a few feet away. He holds Maisie. The kid is oblivious to the darkness lingering at the edges of the night, swinging her legs, humming a song from the debate, still clutching her ribbon.
Fallon’s jaw is set tight, his eyes scanning the parking lot. He looks like a bouncer, like a weapon waiting for a target to walk into view.
Dorian walks over to me, breaking my focus on the street.
“Did she tell you?” he asks.
I shake my head once.
Dorian exhales, a cloud of white vapor in the freezing air. “That bastard was an abusive piece of shit, Knox. And I don’t mean just the physical kind. He abused her in every way a person can be abused. Mentally, financially... I knew he was bad news, but I didn’t know the extent until she came to live with us.”
My stomach turns over. The image of Amber flinching when I raise my voice in the kitchen takes on a new, horrifying context.
