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Aunt Jeannie pushed someone out of her way and ran to me, worry written all over her face.
Colt stared down at me, his lips ticked up at the sides. He gave my hand a squeeze, and something slammed into me.
Something I didn’t know I’d never had until this moment.
Safety. The knowledge that someone would come find me if I went missing. People cared enough to worry about me.
Aunt Jeannie scooped me up, forcing me to let go of Colt’s hand, and I couldn’t help but peek at him over her shoulder.
I want to keep him.
ChapterOne
PEYTON
An omission was still a lie,right?
Guilt ate away at me. I’d never lied to my aunt and uncle before. When I told them I had an interview, they were so excited. I neglected to tell them that it wasn’t really a choice.
Since the day they’d brought me home, they had loved me. Showered with me affection and attention, because that was who they were. They treated me like I was their daughter, not a wayward niece who needed a safe place to live. If I told them I was in trouble, they’d burn the world down trying to protect me. I couldn’t let them do that.
I’d screwed up and needed to handle the consequences of my actions. Not hide behind my loved ones, letting them fix what I’d done.
I picked my way through the airport, stopping for coffee and to check the outgoing flights. Dreamed that I was going somewhere exotic rather than the exit.
Running wasn’t an option. Pretty sure the government would track me down and drag me back by my hair.
Six weeks ago, I got the call that ordered me to Washington, DC. As soon as I hung up the phone, I had a plane ticket and a picture of a man labeleddriverwaiting in my inbox. No name.
The clock had been ticking slowly and painfully since. Fear was a constant companion, keeping me up at night. I’d been so paranoid that I barely opened my laptop once the countdown reached single digits.
The farther I walked, the bigger the cloud of impending doom grew over my head. All the questions I’d had these past few weeks about what I would face were soon to be answered.
After stopping and grabbing a snack and a decent latte, I went to baggage claim. Except I never made it. The man from the picture stood near the escalator, and both of my bags lay at his feet.
The man was far more unnerving in person than he was in his picture. His bald head, serious face, and ill-fitting suit set off sirens in my head. This guy was the poster child for stranger danger. If I hadn’t been expecting him, I would have run screaming in the other direction.
I barely made it to him before he gave me a stiff nod, grabbed my duffle bags, and strode out of the airport without glancing back to check if I was following. I jogged to catch up as he stopped at an SUV with tinted windows. He threw my bags in the back, then climbed into the car. I jumped into the passenger seat, almost afraid he would leave without me. The scathing look he shot my way made me wonder if I’d done something wrong.
After an hour and a half, most of which was spent in standstill DC traffic, Stranger Danger turned toward a nondescript building. He swiped his keycard at the first gate, did an eye scan for the second, and gave a verbal password—“bloodborne”—to get past the guy in Army fatigues at the third.
I stayed silent the entire time, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t seen fit to speak to me or even tell me his name. Which was fine. I didn’t have the bandwidth to carry on any kind of conversation in my overwhelmed state anyway.
He pulled the SUV into a parking spot and climbed out of the car, leaving me in the passenger seat. When he realized I wasn’t following, he turned and waved at me, his agitation clear. He opened the door and strode inside, and his pace never slowed as he marched down hallway after hallway. Finally, he stopped outside a door to an office, and I rushed to catch up.
Five women stood at the back wall, all of them around my age, and I froze when they turned their eyes on me. Stranger Danger nudged me all the way into the room and closed the door behind me, leaving me alone with the other women.
One woman stepped forward and flicked a lock of wavy dark brown hair over her shoulder. “Hey, I’m Adrienne Vinci,” she said with a faint New York accent. She arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “My dad was obsessed with theRockymovies. One of my brothers is named Sylvester. Mom got ahold of the birth certificate before it could be filed, so at least it isn’t spelled like the movie. Bless her. But consider yourself warned. If you do that screaming thing or say ‘Yo, Adrian,’ Iwillpunch you in the throat.”
I blinked a few times, processing the information she threw at me. “Peyton. And don’t worry, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know who Rocky is.”
Adrienne’s mouth fell open. “Deadass?” Her accent went thicker. “What planet have you been living on?”
A woman with a long blonde ponytail elbowed Adrienne. “Don’t mind her. She forgets how to act sometimes. I’m Isla Riberio.” She said her last name with an accent I didn’t recognize. It was Spanish, but also not. She crossed her arms, showing off defined biceps. “But call me Izzy.”
I gave her a small wave and a tight smile.
Another woman stepped forward and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Jessen Chambers.”
