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Alibi leans against Bishop's leg. He looks down at him again. “He's friendly.”

“Unfortunately.”

Smoke points at me. “He loves that dog.”

“I will leave you here permanently.”

“You're already leaving me here.”

Bishop turns toward the house before we can begin arguing. “Inside.”

Smoke looks at me. “Does everyone in your life order people around?”

I think about Callie. “Yes.”

He laughs.

We follow Bishop inside.

The place is exactly what I expect. Sparse. Clean. Functional. Nothing personal. It reminds me of every place I've lived for the last eleven years.

For the first time, I notice how fucking depressing that is.

Bishop goes over the plan.

Smoke stays here until we know who accessed his garage and what happened to the drive. One of Bishop's people will go back for clothes and anything else he needs. Nobody goes to Smoke's house alone. Nobody goes near the garage unless Bishop knows.

Smoke argues for approximately thirty seconds.

Bishop stares at him.

Smoke eventually mutters, “Fine.”

My phone rings. I pull it out. It’s Callie.

My eyes go to the time. That was fast. Maybe the author decided she hated the meeting too.

I answer. “Done already?”

Silence.

“Roman? It’s Violet.”

Every muscle in my body locks.

I straighten. “Why do you have Callie's phone?”

Bishop's attention snaps to me.

Smoke stops smiling.

“I—”

“Violet.” My voice changes. “Why do you have Callie's phone?”

“I can't find her.”

Everything around me goes still. “What?”