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I slid into the front passenger seat, glancing over at Bish beside me before peeking at Kace and Misael in the back, each in their usual seat.
It was routine. It was familiar.
The quiet tension in the car, however, was not. I couldn’t stand the silence, and when we were halfway to Slateview, I finally spoke.
“Is… everything okay?” I asked, keeping my gaze trained straight ahead. I didn’t mention Kace’s impromptu visit the night before. It wasn’t like the other boys would resent him for spending the night with me, but it felt like something intimate between the two of us. Something maybe he’d needed as much as I had. “After yesterday. No news from Nathaniel?”
There was another brief silence. Not even the radio played this morning to fill the quiet air.
“Well. We haven’t heard anything,” Bishop said evenly. “And Flint probably didn’t bother to tell anyone he was meeting you anyway. Most likely, he didn’t want anyone to know. Eventually someone will start to wonder where the fuck he is. Until then, nothing to do about it.”
Nothing to do about it.
The words seemed to land on my heart like weights, and I clenched my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms. He was probably right, but I hated it. I wanted a plan, I wanted to do something. To run away to Mexico or something, to get away from the danger I could feel lurking on the horizon. To flee while we still could.
But Bishop didn’t deviate from our usual route as he drove to school. And no one else had anything to add to what he’d said.
It was harder to concentrate than I expected when we got to school. The longer I was left to my thoughts, the more the logistics of the situation kept falling apart at the seams. Even if Nathaniel didn’t care about or find out about what happened to Flint, who was to say the police wouldn’t? Who was to say they wouldn’t investigate Flint’s actions and whereabouts that day? That they wouldn’t be led back to the diner, to the fact that Flint had met briefly with an unfortunately recognizable face and wasn’t seen again after they left together?
How would Flint’s death not lead back to the Lost Boys?
If someone connected it to me, it would be an easy jump to connect it to them. Everyone at Slateview knew I belonged to them, and Bishop had told me himself—they protected what was theirs.
I barely paid attention to my classes, and by the time lunch rolled around, my stomach was so unsettled that I didn’t think I’d be able to eat anything. I’d skipped breakfast too, and I felt a little shaky and weak, but the thought of food made my stomach flop over like a dying fish.
But as I approached the cafeteria, all thoughts of food slipped from my mind. My footsteps slowed as shouts and yells rose up ahead of me.
The cafeteria entrance was blocked by a logjam of students, all craning their heads to peer over and around each other as the sounds of a fight spilled out from inside the large room.
Fuck. This is the last thing the Lost Boys need today.
The three boys were the unofficial rulers, leaders, and peacekeepers of the school, keeping a tight rein on everything that went on between these walls and dominating anyone who stepped out of line. Fights in the halls weren’t all that common, and whenever they did spring up, the Lost Boys usually intervened quickly to shut that shit down.
I jostled my way through the press of bodies, my gaze already scanning the faces around me, searching for the Lost Boys. But when I finally forced my way into the cafeteria and caught sight of the spectacle everyone had gathered to watch, my heart froze in my chest.
Kace was at the center of the crowd, exchanging blows with another student.
What the hell?
This was nothing like the day he’d punched a boy to break up a fight. That had been controlled, calculated—intended to stop the fight in its tracks and show the other boy who was in charge.
This? This was pure, chaotic violence.
The crowd was yelling, urging the two boys on as they went at each other with everything they had, and adrenaline spiked in my veins. Bishop and Misael were nowhere to be seen. The lunch period had just started, and they were probably on their way here. They’d be here soon.
But that might not be good enough.
I elbowed my way past the few people who still stood in my way, darting forward.
“Kace!”
He either didn’t hear me, or he ignored me. His arm cocked back, fist smeared with bright red blood, his face full of fury. His nose was bloody; he’d taken a few good blows himself. But I knew Kace, and I knew his nickname—Reaper—and for a moment, fear that he was going to take this too far flashed through me. The look in his eyes… I’d seen it before. It was the same look he’d had right before he’d pulled the trigger on Flint.
I rushed up, possibly a little out of my mind, considering no sane person would get in the way of two big guys throwing fists at each other. But I didn’t care. Kace needed to stop this.
“Kace!” I repeated his name, grabbing his arm as he drew it back to swing again. He startled, rounding on me, raising his other fist as a snarl contorted his bloodied face—
Then he blinked.
