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“You can call me Frey,” I mutter, but he’s already marching past the teacher, who’s too busy staring at me to pay attention to the kids jostling beside her.
Great.
“Come on,” Ben says from the truck. “I barely have enough fucking gas to make it back.”
“Who said I’m going anywhere with you?”
“Let’s not play dumb,” Ben snaps. “Daze wants you to wait for him. So, you’re waiting for him. Get in.”
I’m already inching back, stepping into the main road. One scream would be all it takes to draw attention.
And Ben’s wary glance around proves he knows the same thing. “This ain’t no fucking hostage situation, lady,” he snaps. “Trust me on that.”
“Oh?” I scramble back another step, and an oncoming car swerves to miss me. “What else do you call it when some stranger tries to coerce a young woman into his truck?”
He scoffs. “You call it Daze being fucking Daze and dragging me into his goddamn shit. Trust me, sweetheart, you’re better off with him than anywhere else right now. Wait—” He breaks off, his head cocked, eyes narrowed. I realize the confusion I gave away just by biting my lower lip as his gaze settles over my face. “You don’t know, do you?” He laughs, shaking his head in incredulous disbelief. “I love the bastard like a brother, but Jesus fuck. Even this is too much.”
“What are you talking about?” I demand.
Another driver zooms past, cursing at me from their window. One of the schoolteachers remains standing out front of the school, staring in our direction.
“I know who you are,” Ben says with an exasperated sigh. When I don’t budge, he nods to my throat. “I know your holy father likes to make deals with the devil,” he adds. “That his little volunteer program—Salvation? Oh, it offers anythingbutthat, sweetheart. You think Daze and I are bad news? What about that little bootlicker who follows your father around? Robert something? That guy is the real danger you should be worried about. Trust me, it may look like I’m the one begging you, but it should be the other fucking way around. You need Day, and you have no fucking idea how much.”
“He knew my brother,” I croak. “Did you? His name was Hale.”
“Of course, I fucking knew him.Hedidn’t take my advice, however. I suggest you don’t make the same mistake.” He laughs again, sounding more manic than angry. Turning around, he enters his truck and eyes me from the serving window. “Get in or not. But I wouldn’t want to be you alone on these streets.”
He could be lying. A part of me thinks he is. But…
It’s his eyes. They gleam smugly. Pityingly, too.
I start forward, ignoring the instinct urging me to run far in the opposite direction. Maybe I will—right after I give Daze a piece of my mind. “Just drive,” I say, climbing back inside the truck.
At least Sammy got to school on time. When I finally return to Daze’s apartment, I find the door still unlocked.
One thing has changed since I’ve been gone—a tall figure dominates the narrow space. One look and I’m flying across the living room toward him, teeth bared.
“You jerk!” I form a fist, clenching my fingers so tightly that the knuckles pop.
Surprisingly, I catch him off guard, landing a blow in the center of his chest. He’s changed, I realize as my fingers glance off thinner material than the hoodie he left wearing. Now just a thin white T-shirt strains against the muscle shaping his chest. Too thin. It’s wet...soaked in places.
With something red.
“Oh my God.” I reel back, my head spinning with images that come unbidden.
Hale slumped in an armchair, his eyes unseeing. Vomit-caked pale lips that would never curse me out again. Never say they loved me. Never forgive me.
“Earth to Frey,” a harsh voice echoes, cutting through the memories. “Not to be an asshole, but it’s a little too goddamn early in the morning for drama. Can you cool it a little? My fucking head is killing me...”
“W-What?” I blink, refocusing on the hulking figure dripping blood all over the floor I spent hours scrubbing clean.
Without an ounce of shame, Daze eyes me boldly through a fringe of matted hair. The red substance is coming from his head, I realize. From this angle, I can’t see the exact cause, but that doesn’t calm the churning, ominous ache building in my stomach.
“What happened to you?”
He ignores me, glancing around at the corners of the room. “Where’s Mutt?”
“Mutt?”
