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No question, it did.

But my life meant nothing if I didn’t have her in it.

SIXTY-FOUR

ELENA

EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD

She was going to get into so much trouble, but she didn’t care.

Elena bit down on her lip as she curled her hand around the knob of the front door, listening back into the quiet stillness of the nearly pitch-black house.

Meems was long asleep, and Brody was off being Brody, likely at a rager where he’d come crawling home after dawn and sleep the rest of the day away.

She didn’t miss the irony. Her younger brother was allowed to be out roaming at all hours of the night, and she was forbidden to leave the house by herself.

Silas and Trevan were gone on club business and weren’t supposed to return until tomorrow.

So, she carefully clicked open the door and slipped out into the night. Her belly was full of nerves and anticipation with a sprinkling of fear.

She’d never done something like this.

Sneaked out.

But she’d been texting with Patrick for three weeks, and he wanted to see her in person.

He was cute. Really cute. Sweet and funny.

She tiptoed down the two steps from their stoop and along the sidewalk, glancing once at the sleeping house behind her before she fumbled into a run.

Jogging down the street to its end.

A car was parked there. The headlights killed but its running lights on. The same one that had been repaired at their shop.

Adrenaline strummed, and her heart hammered as she ran up to the passenger side door.

It clicked open and the cabin light illuminated Patrick’s grinning face. “Hey, you.”

“Hi.” She wheezed it, breathless. Unsure of what she felt.

Excited, for sure.

Also nervous in an unsettled way.

But the only way she was going to be free of her cage was by breaking out of it.

She fumbled to buckle.

“God, you’re even more beautiful than I remember from the day I met you.”

Redness streaked, and she peeked over at him. He was all easy smiles. Not formidable like Trevan.

Different.

Could she look at him the same?

She wanted to.