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I sniffle but refuse to let the tears fall that burn in my eyes. “What if you’re wrong?” I ask, my voice wobbling. “What if you’rewrong, and they really do kill him?”
“Then we make them suffer for a very long time,” Ashe replies bleakly. “All of them.”
“I’d like to make them suffer even if he’s alive,” I whisper after a moment’s thought.
“Oh, we’re going to,” Ashe agrees, his answer instant and full of vehemence. “Not one of them is getting out alive for this tonight, Ari. And we’re going to make Declan Roger and hisfamilysee that taking you and then Isaac were the final nails in their coffins.”
The other Lost Boys are all in Cyril’s kitchen when Ashe pushes open the door for us, and I suddenly feel like I don’t belong. Like I don’tdeserveto walk inside.
But then Ashe pushes me in any way, and I stumble through the entryway while drawing the attention of Arlo and Ezra.
“Ari,” Arlo murmurs, coming to hug me around the shoulders. He presses his lips against my forehead and pulls back, then reaches up to drag a finger down my bruised temple.
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice hoarse. I want tocry. Isaac might be dead, and they’re relieved thatI’mokay.
“My uncle’s people found your phone. It’s still on, and I don’t think it’s been moved,” Cyril says, pulling a gun out of a box on the counter and loading it as I watch. “That was so great of you to think of that. Otherwise, it would’ve taken us a lot longer to find where you guys were.”
I nod jerkily, my nails digging into my palms as I clench my hands into fists. The rain sounds like it’s getting heavier, and thunder shakes the townhouse; it’s so close.
“Can I come?” I ask the words leaving my mouth in a rush.
Cyril barely looks up, but a wry, humorless grin crosses his lips. “Who do you think I’m loading the gun for?”
Oh.
“You do know how to shoot, right?” Ezra asks, prowling towards me to slide a knife into the pocket of my leggings. He smiles tensely as he does and then goes to the door with Arlo, obviously ready to go find Isaac.
“Y-yeah,” I say, surprised at the question. “I’m not an amazing shot. But when I was a teenager–” I close my mouth because I’m sure that they don’t care I was in a 4-H club that taught me how to shoot all kinds of guns and a bow. It’s been a few years, sure. But I still remember a lot about it since my dad and I had carried on the hobby of shooting until he’d died.
“Good.” Cyril hands me the gun in a holster. “Don’t shoot any of us, all right?” The smile he offers me doesn’t reach his eyes, and I don’t expect it to.
Isaac could be dead. The thought cycles over and over in my mind, and I follow him to the door, clasping the gun carefully in my hands while the weight of the switchblade in my pocket sits heavy against my leg.
Am I actually doing this?
I search myself for any sense of hesitation or caution or even thewantto run away.
But there isn’t any. There’snothingexcept the burning desire to save Isaac and the seething hate for the people that took him and hurt him and want tokill them.
God, I really can’t handle it if he’s dead.
And I’ll kill someone for hurting him.
I slide into the back of Cyril’s car with Ashe and Ezra, not surprised at how I feel. How can I be when I’ve known for a week how hard I’m falling for the Lost Boys? Maybe I’ve caught some of their obsession, some of their madness because I can’t consider not being with them. I can’t consider Isaac not coming home safe.
My brain just simply won’t look into that possibility.
Cyril drives quickly and probably over the speed limit, but no cops decide to pull him over. As if they know that might not end up going well for them if they do.
Without warning, Ezra slides a hand into mine, offering me a soft smile, though his eyes dance with the promise of violence. “Isaac’s been kidnapped before,” he tells me, humor in his tone.
I stare at him, surprised at the words, and try to figure out what to say. “Is that…supposed to make me feel better?” I ask finally, my own voice quiet.
“Yeah. Because out of everyone, he has the highest running tally for stumbling into the enemy’s hideoutnotof his own free will. He’slucky,and he’ll be lucky this time too.”
I can’t tell if he believes it or if he’s just saying it for my benefit. I can never tell with Ezra because he wears his mask so well that it’s unreal.
“I don’t know if that’s making me feel better,” I admit after a few seconds and lean my face against the cold glass of the window to watch the rain falling in the city around us.
