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We’ve been talking for three hours.
“Oh my God,?
? I say. “It’s 8:30 already? We have to go.”
“Why? You have a date or something?” he teases.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
The truth is Kass is coming home at nine. If she sees I’m not home then, she’ll know I was out, and if she finds out who I was out with, she’ll never let me hear the end of it.
We get up and head back down the creepy ladder. When my feet hit the ground, I let out a breath of relief and look up, thanking the Lord. Haze makes fun of me for being a chicken, and I don’t hesitate to bring up his fear slash hate of spiders.
I glance at the wooden ladder one last time, surprised that it hasn’t collapsed yet.
I look back at him, and my smile fades when I notice the frown plastered on his face. He seems to be on the lookout, staring straight ahead of him at something in the distance.
The cemetery on the other side of the street.
That’s when I see them.
The silhouettes.
There’s four of them. They’re tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in black from head to toe. Every nerve in my body is telling me that something might be wrong. When they start walking toward us, I don’t just think something is wrong—I know it. Haze’s actions confirm my thoughts when he turns around abruptly, and I find myself locked in his penetrating gaze.
“Keep your head down, and don’t say a word. If I tell you to run, you run and you don’t look back. Do you understand me?” His eyes are dark. Severe.
Fear consumes me as I glance up at him.
“Winter, do you understand? I need you to say it.”
I nod. “I understand.”
He steps in front of me, blocking the view I have of them. His tall and broad physique operates as a human shield between the four strangers and me. He’s suddenly a completely different person from who he was barely a couple of minutes ago. He clenches his jaw and his fists, ready to fight.
When they stop a couple of steps away from us, I keep my head down, ignoring the weight of their hostile gazes on my shoulders. Darkness has set upon the neighborhood, which makes it hard for me to see their faces clearly.
“Haze.” The taller one speaks. He seems to be around twenty-five and the leader of the four, somehow radiating power and violence.
“Ian,” Haze says.
I frown. I think I’ve heard that name before. But where?
“What are you doing around here?” he asks, trying to look over Haze’s shoulder.
“Remembering.”
“I see you’re with a friend.” Ian smiles.
And when I say smile, I mean a “I want no trouble with you, but I would kill you in a heartbeat if I had to” smile.
“Congratulations, you have eyes.”
“Isn’t that the East Side girl?” Ian glares at me.
“That’s really none of your business, is it?” Cold is the word to describe his tone.
“Considering our…” Ian pauses, searching for the right words to say. “Situation, I think it is.” The tension keeps on growing by the second.
