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Nodding, he hands my inhaler back to me and stands up to his full height as I scramble to my feet.
“Run, Bianca,” he says softly, leaning toward me. “And don’t come back. Go away. If you come back he will kill you—”
“Wait,” I interrupt, reaching for him.
He takes a quick step back as though I would hurt him, and my heart crumbles. He can’t leave now. Placing a hand over my heart, I plead with my eyes first, and then my words.
“What about Cami? Please. They have to let her go. You have to help her.”
Lowering his eyes, he shakes his head before looking up. “Cami who?”
Those two words are like a punch to the gut. I open my mouth to beg him not to hurt her, to beg him to somehow help me get to her, but I’m cut off by an unfamiliar voice.
“Rex?” The boy turns in the direction we came from. “You catch her?”
The boy—Rex—holds a finger to his lips, signaling for me to stay quiet before yelling out a response. “Sorry, Dante. I lost her,” he hollers, slowly backing away from me.
“Please. Don’t leave.” Lunging forward, I grab his arm. “Don’t hurt her. Let her go. Take me. Tell them to take me.”
“Go, Bianca.” Rex yanks his arm out of my grip, knocking me backward in the process. His eyes flash with regret, but it doesn’t last long because next thing I know he’s taking a menacing step toward me. He bends down until we’re inches apart. “Corri!” Run!
And I do. Just like my sister told me, I do.
I run.
…NO!
My eyes open, and the fourteen-year fog finally lifts, leaving me with a clear, ugly reality. It was Rex, my Rex chasing us that day.
And Dante.
Oh, God, it was Dante.
A sharp pain rips through my chest.
Our own brother tackled Cami to the ground.
This isn’t happening.
Did Dante kill her? Did he kill our sister?
And why the fuck didn’t Rex help her? He helped me, so he surely could’ve helped her.
I try to remind myself that Rex saved my life that day. He had me cornered. He easily could’ve called for someone, but he didn’t. He let me go. But white hot rage replaces all rational thought.
My fingers curl inward, my nails biting into my palms, drawing blood, but I don’t feel it because my body is numb. I dig harder, needing to feel something—anything—and then Rex’s voice filters through the air, drawing me back in.
“What are we going to do?”
I lift my eyes, watching the scene unfold in front of me as the dreaded words pass through Dante’s lips.
“I think you know what we have to do.”
I think you know what we have to do.
Does that mean they’re going to kill me? I’m the missing piece of the puzzle—the person who can link their father to a double murder. What else would they do with me?
My initial instinct is to run, but I’m so goddamn sick and tired of running.
