Page 97 of Kyle

No, he didn’t. It had been my arm that had pressed against her throat.

“All you did was choke her out,” he started. “But when I pulled you up with her still in your headlock, I knew what I was doing. I knew the force would crack her neck. I did it, Anaya, not you.”

I shook my head in denial.

“No—”

“Something you need to reconcile in your own head. But think on this while you’re figuring it out. Monica was going to kill your friend. It was Monica or Emerson. So you think on whose life is more important to you.”

Jeremy stalked away and I didn’t need to think; Emerson was more important. All day, every day, I’d pick Emerson.

“Hey,” Emerson whispered. “He’s right, though maybe he could’ve been a little nicer about it. But he’s still right. We’ll get through this together. That’s what we said. You and me. We’re gonna be fine.”

I focused on the angry red welts around Emerson’s neck. Perfect imprints of Monica’s hands around her throat. Anger welled up.

I did what I had to do. Kyle would understand. I had no choice.

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ve just never…I didn’t know what to do…I just reacted.”

“And you did the right thing. Thank you.”

“Get in your room,” Jeremy barked. “Now. And do not come out no matter what.”

Emerson moved first, gripping my hand and yanking me toward the hall.

“What’s happening?” I asked as we passed the kitchen.

“We have company. Do. Not. Come. Out.”

Company? Were the guys here already to get us?

Emerson shoved me through the door and turned to lock it.

“Whatever happens, we stick together,” she told me.

“You think—”

“Yes. Monica said he was coming for us. I don’t think that was a threat, I think that was a warning. She knew.”

I thought back to the conversations we had and everything started clicking into place. “She said no one found her.”

“Shit!” Emerson growled. “It was a setup. All of it.”

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and swiped it to unlock. A few seconds later with an angry huff she tucked it into the bra and looked at me. “No service. Try yours.”

I pulled out mine and repeated the process. No reception.

“No.”

“Shit. The windows don’t open, and Jeremy has cleared the house of anything that can be used as a weapon.”

I glanced around the room, noting there was nothing on the dresser that was near the door, nothing on the nightstands, not even a coat hanger in the closet. The room was empty. We had nothing.

“Do you have a belt or anything in your bag?” I asked.

“No. Nothing, just clothes.”

There was a loud bang, right before two unmistakable gun shots.