I did have to beg him not to mention this shit to my father, though. Thankfully, he hasn’t yet. God help me if my father ever finds out about the warehouse, the races, or literally anything involving Reid and the others.
I’d probably wake up locked inside Brimstone House.
My phone buzzes again. Reid never texts just to chat. There’s always some bullshit attached to it.
Taking a deep breath, I unlock my phone, already bracing myself for whatever fresh hell is about to ruin my night.
Reid:
I need a run handled. All of you armed. Leave in ten.
My stomach twists instantly. Because Reid never saysarmedunless he expects blood.
Stone reads the message over my shoulder and whistles. “That’s comforting.”
“What is?” B asks, and I take a deep breath then show her the text. “At least wear something cute if we’re dying tonight,” she says as she grabs her knives from the table.
Asher snorts while shoving bullets into a magazine. “You say that every time.”
“And every time I look hot.”
Honestly? She’s not wrong.
We all leave the warehouse and pile into an unmarked SUV. The ride starts intense but quickly dissolves into Chaos, because apparently none of us can behave like normal people for more than seven consecutive minutes.
Stone drives while Asher rides shotgun and B controls the music from next to me. Which is basically psychological warfare. Asher twists around in the passenger seat smirking at me.
“So…”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I’m gonna say,” he says, and I roll my eyes.
“It’s about Hayden.”
Stone immediately starts laughing. “Bathroom incident?”
Heat floods my face instantly. “I hate all of you.”
B nearly chokes on her drink laughing. “Girl looked ready to climb that man like a tree when she walked out of that school pissed the hell off.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“A hot asshole,” Stone corrects, and I glare murderously out the window, because they aren’t wrong. Hayden left me panting in that bathroom like some desperate girl in a romance movie before walking away with that stupid smug grin on his face. And the worst part? He knew exactly what he was doing.
“That boy owns your soul,” Asher says dramatically.
“He absolutely does not,” I lie, and Stone snorts.
“O, you literally look homicidal every time another girl breathes near him.”
“Okay, but to be fair,” B cuts in. “He does the exact same thing.”
Facts. Unfortunately.
My phone stays silent the entire drive. No text from Hayden. No stupid cocky messages. Nothing and, for some reason, that hurts more than it should.
The meetup spot is at an abandoned shipping yard near the docks. Dark and empty.
