Chapter 2

Hawke

I watch her speed off, not taking the direction home, but I don’t care to worry about it.

What was Dylan thinking? Weston is bad enough, but Green Street won’t stop. She doesn’t want them on her ass.

I see Schuyler covering her mouth, blood dripping.

It was bad back in the day, the rivalry. But only to the point of being mildly dangerous—the clashes at the Loop between the Pirates from the Falls and the Rebels from Weston—but things had changed a lot in twenty years. Our town got richer—with people like my father and my uncles succeeding and giving back with jobs and events that brought in revenue—and Weston got poorer.

But struggle isn’t always a bad thing. Only when we’re desperate do we dig in, and Weston found ways to brace themselves. They’ve risen. Disgracefully, but still.

And all in ways that are illegal.

Bella and Socorro pull Schuyler off the floor, and I approach. “Are you okay?” I ask her.

She just turns, whimpering and running for the bathroom. Her friends follow.

She’s bleeding hard. She’ll need stitches, probably. Pretty sure she’s never been hit in her life.

I start to follow her but stop. She broke up with me. She’ll ask for help if she needs it.

Spotting Dylan, I pull out a chair at her table, Kade taking a seat next to me. He holds our cash in his hand. “We need to send a message,” he tells me. “We’ve got enough problems with St. Matt’s, and I don’t want you leaving me to deal with Weston, too.”

I start at Clarke University, my dad’s old school, in a couple of weeks, and Kade will be a senior. He bitches about what’s ahead of him, but honestly, he can’t wait. Grudge Night, senior year, football, and Rivalry Week—he’s waited for his chance to be in charge.

“She’s not over here as a Rebel,” I retort. “She’s a shallow, senseless, little punk, soon-to-be inmate at Stateville Prison.” And then I give Dylan a look, only her long, dark lashes visible from underneath her baseball cap as she plunges the tortilla chip into the queso. “If you all would just stop buying from them…”

She shoots her eyes up. “I had no choice,” she tells me. “Every time I had a missing assignment last year, my dad took my phone. I need a spare before school starts.”

“Or you could just stop missing assignments?”

“Can’t.” She shrugs, stuffing the chip into her mouth. “Too busy looking for you while you’re skipping classes.”

I shake my head.

But I shut up. She always does that. That younger cousin thing, looking at me with her mom’s storm-blue eyes and her dad’s big, bright smile that she uses a hell of a lot more than he does and saying that she’s just following my example and she’ll do as I do, not as I say. I have a perfect GPA. I can afford to miss classes.

“Here.” Kade hands me my money, pocketing the rest that was his.

I take it and dig in my back pocket for my wallet. “And all that bullshit with St. Matt’s is on you,” I tell him. “You can deal with your own brother.”

He purses his lips and looks off, knowing I’m not leaving him with any messes that I made.

I switch hands, checking the other pocket.

“Well, if we’re all just too small town for you, Hawke,” Dylan chimes in, “why’d you decide to go to college so close to home?”

But as I dig in my pockets and come up empty, realization hits and Dylan’s words are lost on me.

“What’s the matter?” she asks.

I jerk my eyes up to her and then to the door. Shit!

Dylan gasps. “She didn’t…” She gapes at me, and then…she throws her head back, pealing with laughter. “Oh my God. That’s fantastic.”

Seriously? Whose side is she on?

An alert hits on my phone, and I pull it out, staring at the notification.

JT Alarm 08 Activated. Do you need assistance?

Oh, no. My wallet. My card key to the race shop.

I dart my gaze up to Dylan. “Move!” I order and then look to Kade. “Now!’’

They don’t ask why. They bolt, scrambling out of their chairs and follow me out of the bar. We dash across the street to Kade’s truck. He tosses me the keys. “I can’t afford another ticket,” he says. “You drive.”

We climb in, and I start the engine, shifting into Drive before speeding away from the curb. The seatbelt alarm sounds, but I ignore it, turning left and then right. The shop is less than two blocks away.

“I’ll text Dirk and Stoli,” Kade says, tapping away on his phone and messaging our friends. “We may need help.”

I hope not. She’d better not be bringing more of them over here.

I jerk the wheel, barreling into the parking lot and hear the alarm. I slam on the brakes.

Dylan’s phone rings, and I jump out of the truck, looking for the girl.

Or Tommy.

For a light, a movement. Anything.

I spot the broken glass, one of the panels on the front of the shop shattered on the floor inside, and I peer up to the second floor, still not seeing her.

Fuckit. I step inside, not caring if she has a weapon on her.

“Hi,” I hear Dylan say behind me. “Code 9556732, last name Trent, password Madman.”

She follows me, her phone pressing over her light brown hair to her ear underneath, but Kade pulls her back. “Dylan, no.” He points to the glass and her flipflops. “Stay here.”

She nods, trying to listen to the security company on the phone. “Yeah, send the police.”

My parents and Dylan’s are out of town tonight, but they’ll still get the alert. They’ll be calling any minute.

I look around, the whole place dark and not a sound. I scan the first floor, taking inventory of my uncle Jared’s equipment, my dad’s computers, the bikes and cars—everything in the same exact state as when I left earlier today.

“I don’t see anyone,” Kade says.

“Okay,” Dylan says into her phone. “Thanks.” She hangs up, looking at us. “Cops are on their way.”

Other than the broken window, everything’s fine. There’s no sign of her or the Dietrich kid. What…? Did she really just come here to break a window? Why steal my wallet then?

“She had to know there’d be a security system,” Dylan says. “This isn’t smart.”

No, it’s not. Why—?

Then it occurs to me. I pat down my pockets again, noting both my missing wallet and my missing keys.

My chest caves. “It’s not smart,” I exhale. “It’s a decoy.”

Kade and Dylan glance at each other, but I run. “Stay here!” I shout, racing to the truck. “Handle the police.”

“Hawke!” Dylan calls.

Followed by Kade. “Hawke!”

But I’m gone. Slamming the door, I take off, flying out of the lot and speeding home. Son of a bitch.

She knew we had a security system. She’s not smart. She’s a diabolical little shithead, who knew exactly what to do to get me and the police anywhere but where she was going to be.

“Goddammit.” I lock my jaw, more disappointed in how I let this happen.

When did she get my wallet and keys? It had to be when I was carrying her. How did I not feel that? “For Christ’s sake,” I hiss, feeling stupid.

I drive down Fall Away Lane but kill the headlights and pull over to the side, a few houses down from mine. I don’t want her to know I’m coming.

She was alone—or only with the kid anyway—at the bar, and I’m not scared of Tommy Dietrich. As long as the Rebel didn’t call in backup from Weston, I’ll get her out of my house before she has the chance to fuck anything up.

Climbing out of the truck, I walk down the street and look around, but I don’t see any cars I don’t recognize. She would’ve kept her getaway car close, but not obvious.

I stop on the sidewalk, turn right, and look at my house with Dylan’s next to it on the left. My dad and uncle went to Chicago to meet with an engineer they’re looking to hire for the business. They took my mom, Tate, and James.

Which they’ve been posting pictures of all day on social media.

Fucking hell. She knew the houses were empty when she saw Dylan and me at Rivertown.

I approach the tree situated between the two homes, watching the windows for any sign of the two girls.

And then movement catches my eye, and I jerk my head left, seeing a flashlight in the second-floor hallway of Dylan’s house.

I race up the tree, the branches of the old maple spreading between Dylan’s bedroom and mine. I hop up onto the thick arm leading to the French doors of her room and see them cracked open.

Slowly, I swing my legs over the railing and then dig out my phone, texting Kade and then silencing the ringer.

“Shhh!” I hear someone say from somewhere in the house.

Everything in my body tenses.

I step inside my cousin’s room, glancing around as I make my way for the door.

A small laugh drifts in from the hallway, and I have only a second to hide as the door opens and Tommy Dietrich walks in.

I grab her.

She yelps, but I cover her mouth, wrapping my arm around the kid and holding her tight. She doesn’t fight, though. She barely breathes, like a frightened, little rabbit.

I lean down, whispering into her ear. “You’re going to go home, understand?”

She nods quickly.

“And you’re going to stop choosing losers as friends just because they’re giving you a bit of attention,” I tell her.

She nods again.

She’s hanging in Weston because they’re the only friends she can find.

“Leave,” I tell her. “Quietly.”

I release her, slowly stepping away and watching her climb back out the French doors. She doesn’t look back as she hurriedly climbs into the tree, and I turn, grabbing the door handle and pulling open Dylan’s door.

But then Tommy’s scream hits my back. “He’s in the house!” she shouts.

I blink long and hard, resisting the urge to curse at a thirteen-year-old. Goddammit.

I move into the hallway, closing Dylan’s door behind me, and pause a moment. She might have a weapon. I peer over the railing, not seeing any sign of her, and look around at the doors on the top floor. My aunt and uncle’s room, James’s room, a spare room, bathrooms, and closets. The downstairs office and Jared and Tate’s bedroom would be the primary targets. They have the most valuables.

I step down the stairs, heel to toe, and keep my eyes and ears peeled.

I open my mouth, hesitating, but she knows I’m here. “So how did you know my cousin’s windows were the only ones without an alarm?” I call out in a loud voice. “Maybe you’ve been simmering on this job for a while?”

Did she come to Rivertown with the purpose of getting my wallet and keys? Or Dylan’s?

“Or maybe you just got lucky,” I add.

I stop at the bottom, taking in the dark kitchen to my left and turning toward the living room to my right. The TV is too big to carry, and they don’t collect antiques or art like Madoc and Fallon. I turn around the banister, looking down the hall toward the home office. That room is worth raiding, especially since Jared has a safe he’s never developed the patience to open, so there are things laying everywhere.

Like petty cash for the house and bank registers he brings home from the shop every night if he gets lazy and doesn’t take time to deposit them.

I step toward the office. “You could’ve robbed the race shop, you know?” I call out. “I would’ve let you steal anything.” The floor creaks under my feet, and I pause. “It’s insured and not worth the risk.”

I take another step and then another.

“But coming to our homes was a mistake, Rebel.” I approach the door. “Drop what you took. And leave.”

I reach out to take the handle, but footfalls hit the floor above me, and I hear the whine of Dylan’s door hinges.

Shit!

I bolt back into the foyer, and I grab hold of the banister, launching myself up the stairs three at a time.

I run back into Dylan’s room and see the girl Tommy was with climbing out the window and into the tree.

“Stop!” I yell.

She may not have been able to steal a lot, but she took something.

Chasing after her, I jump up, grabbing hold of the limb above and swinging my body, landing on the lower branch I climbed up on.

She swings around, I stop, and so does she, both of us watching each other.

I look down. A fall won’t kill us, but it could definitely break a leg.

“Drop what you took,” I bite out, taking a step.

She does the same, backing up slowly as I advance. Past the trunk and onto the limb leading over to my house. And my window.

I flex my jaw. “If you step one foot in my room…”

“I know,” she says, and I can’t see her smile, but I hear it. “I’ve heard about you.”

I’m sure she has. People love to talk shit, and everyone believes everything they hear.

But that part’s true. I don’t like people in my stuff.

Her boots, the right one with duct tape wrapped around the toe, move steadily over the limb, one behind the other. I don’t know if anyone other than family has ever been in this tree. At least not in the last thirty years or so.

“Dylan’s mom grew up in this house,” I tell her, stalling and keeping her attention on me as I tilt my head toward the window behind me. Then, I gesture to the one she’s moving toward. “Her dad grew up over there. This tree connected their bedrooms as kids.”

I step and so does she.

“You’ve heard the stories, right?” I stalk her. “The girl who fought back? Childhood best friends who became enemies who became lovers?” Jared and Tate stories still circulate around my old high school. Dylan’s getting really sick of it, poor girl feeling like she has to crowbar a car to prove whose kid she is. “Tate was kind of lonely as a child,” I tell her. “So was Jared. This tree was their bridge to each other when they needed a friend. When they needed the sadness to go away. When they needed a different view.”

A black bag hangs across her body, one of her hands on the strap, and the other holding the branch above her.

I keep going, keep moving. “I guess that’s why our parents opted for no alarms on our windows,” I explain. “They wanted us to have each other if we were ever afraid to talk to them. This tree is family. It’ll never die. But you will, kid. And probably young, too.”

Because you do stupid things.

She stops, and the light from my porch just reaches her midnight eyes.

“Don’t you want to enjoy a little more freedom first?” I tease.

Before you inevitably get arrested.

But she’s not smiling. Her gaze hardens. “Freedom?” she whispers. “What is that?”

Her eyes shimmer, and I realize they’re wet. I go still.

“Is freedom having no responsibilities? No job?” she asks me. “Or a job that pays enough to feed and shelter you for longer than just today?”

Chills spread all over my body, and I open my mouth to reply, but I don’t know what to say.

“I’m not a kid.” She snickers like I’m so naïve. “You are.”

And she spins, yanking up my bedroom window and diving inside.

I chase after her, climbing into my room and racing through my door as she thunders down the stairs and into the foyer of my parents’ house.

I come up on her tail, just as she’s about to reach the front door, and catch her, both of us crashing into the wall.

She growls, whipping around to get out of my hold, but she pulls too hard, and we both tumble to the floor. Pain shoots through my elbow, and she flips over onto all fours, scrambling to her feet. But I grab the hood of her jacket and yank her back down, coming down on top to straddle her.

Ah!” she yells, her arms flying out, trying to hit me.

I grab her bag and pull it off her, tossing it to the side before I pin her hands above her head and glare down.

She opens her mouth, but she doesn’t say anything. Just fixes a snarl on her face and glowers back up at me. I almost smile, liking the nice, hot shot of adrenaline running through my chest. My dad on my back, Schuyler—it’s been weeks. I appreciate the distraction. I’m blowing off more steam than an afternoon at the gym.

I cock my head. “Need a ride home?”

She raises her chin, getting all tough, and I almost laugh. Her black eyes under long lashes promise pain and suffering if I don’t get off her, but it’s a good look on her.

“I’ll give you one, if you want,” I taunt. “My cousins will help. A whole escort of Pirates back to that shithole, Weston.”

I see her jaw clench, but still, she doesn’t spit any vitriol back at me. She’s used to not giving an inch. She’s used to people taking it.

I pat her coat, feeling a lump in one of the pockets. I dig inside, and she tries to fight me off with her one free hand. “Get off!” she shouts.

I pull out her wallet and flip it open. I read her driver’s license. “Aro Marquez. 686 East 3rd Street, Weston.” I close it and stuff it back into her jacket. “It’s up there forever now.” I gesture to my head and then pin her other hand back down. “Stay out of the Falls, or I will make trouble for you.” I lean down, and she tries to jerk her face away, but she has nowhere to go. “And I won’t even need my daddy or my credit card to do it.”

I know what their preconceived notions are about the Falls. We’re all spoiled trust fund babies to her, even though she’s lying on the floor of my house and can plainly see it’s not a mansion.

I roll to my feet and grab a fistful of her coat, pulling her up with me.

I stare down at her. “You shouldn’t have come alone, honey.”

But a honk sounds outside, and we hear shouts. “Aro!”

I look down at her. She smiles.

Oh, what the fuck?

She shoves me in the chest, and I stumble back, crashing into the entryway table. The dish of keys falls to the floor, shattering.

The next thing I know, the alarm screams in my ear, and I flinch, watching her run out the front door.

I follow, seeing cars in the street, headlights blinding me as I dig in after her and watch her legs disappear ahead.

“Hawke!” I hear Kade, his pounding footsteps approaching as Dirk and Stoli flank him.

I look over. “Where’s Dylan?”

“At the shop with the cops,” he says.

I’d texted him to get him over here, but I’d wanted to make sure Dylan wasn’t alone first.

A small group of people enter on my right, and I look over, seeing the girl, all tall and brave now that her boys are here.

I lock eyes with Hugo Navarre. He was a senior when I was a freshman. We never met on the field, but he’s stayed involved in the bullshit between our towns.

“Well, well, well…” He strolls over, leading his pack—Nicholas behind him and Axel on his right. “How old are you now, Trent?”

Old enough to do serious time if I hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking. Which is what he’s asking. He wants to make sure I know that I can’t hide behind being a minor now.

“I need to search her,” I tell him.

I felt something else in her pocket.

He grins, looking at his lapdog. “Did you steal something?” he asks her, but it sounds like he’s talking to his puppy who can do no wrong.

She doesn’t answer, just looks at me, a gleam in her eyes.

Hugo just laughs. “Sorry about that, man.”

But I look directly at her. “Empty your pockets.”

She doesn’t.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, checking the screen. “That alarm triggered the security company, which is calling my phone right now,” I warn her. “When I don’t answer, they’ll send the police. Empty your pockets and then run. You have about four minutes.”

Her gaze doesn’t leave mine.

I step toward her, Hugo and his boys shifting to be ready. “Don’t touch her,” he says.

Her crew inches closer. “Not unless you want to pay,” he adds.

Her eyes flash to her boss, and I see the alarm.

Hugo walks up to me. “I’ll let you pat her down all night for the right price.” He looks over his shoulder at her. “You ready to start working like a big girl?”

“Hugo…” Their friend Nicholas moves forward, like he’s about to intervene, and I almost smile. Not all is well on Green Street.

But Hugo knows who’s in charge. “I know she’s not much to look at,” he tells me. “But maybe a street girl is exactly what you need. It gets better once she bathes. I promise.”

Some of the guys behind him break into laughter, and I glance at the girl, her expression not so steel anymore. She stares at the ground, her lips tight.

You ready to start working like a big girl?

Is he trying to turn her out? How old is she?

My father would kill these guys.

Axel saunters toward me. “Weston girls are hotter anyway. You know that.”

“But if there’s more than one of you, it’s extra,” Hugo adds, looking around at Kade, Dirk, and Stoli.

I hear Stoli speak up. “Nah. I don’t want any of that.”

“It’ll be too much work hosing her down,” Dirk says.

“Shut up,” I grit out.

I move toward her. “Come here.”

Her eyes flick up to mine, and I hold out my hand.

She looks at it, and I know she won’t take it, but I have to try. She shouldn’t be with these people.

“Come here,” I say again.

But she just shakes her head. “Fuck you.”

I pull the money Kade gave back to me out of my pocket and offer it to Hugo. His eyebrows shoot up, a gleam in his eyes.

He takes it.

“Come here now,” I order her.

She shakes her head, backing up to run, but Hugo takes her by the collar. “No!” She fights, and I take a step, ready to help, but this is what I want. I want him to force her to me.

“I told you not to come home empty-handed,” he says in her face.

He pushes her over to me, but she bites down on his hand, his growl piercing the air. I lunge for her, but she stumbles backward, out of Hugo’s hold and fumbles to get out of my reach.

Sirens blare, lights flash down the street, and she looks at me, fear written all over her face.

No, not fear.

Fright.

She’s afraid of me.

Did she think I was actually buying her? I take a step, but she whips around, running away. I spot something green hanging out of her pocket, the police close in on us, and I watch as she jumps into a black Mercedes and speeds off.

I swing around as she zooms past, watching her go, and something nips at me as the wheels in my head turn. Something green…

Hugo chases after her. “Aro!” he yells. They all run in her wake, but she charges away, turning right, and peels around the corner, out of sight.

“Fuck!” Hugo rages. “Aro!”

“The trunk!” Axel shouts at him as if reminding him about something.

They go after her on foot, disappearing down the next street, and I realize…

That was Hugo’s car she took. She left Rivertown in a Jeep Cherokee. I turn my head, spotting the old navy-blue vehicle way down in front of Mr. Woodson’s house.

She took the wrong car.

Guilt hits me. She took the closest escape.

But then, it hits me. Green…

“Shit,” I whisper.

It was a ribbon hanging out of her pocket. A tattered. Green. Ribbon.

I turn to Kade, pointing to his truck. “Go!”

We run, Stoli and Dirk following, all of us piling into the cab. I start the engine and take off. “She’s got Jared’s charm,” I spit out, racing around the corner.

“The thumbprint?” Kade asks.

“It was in Dylan’s room.” I hit the gas, not caring if I get a ticket. “The Rebels would love to have that fucking trophy.”

The thumbprint belongs to Dylan’s mom. She made it when she was a child, and there’s a whole story about it between Dylan’s parents. It’s special. Jared always had it on him for races, and last year, he gave it to Dylan for luck on the track. It’s worth five cents and our family’s most valuable heirloom.

“Goddammit.” I zip around a car and speed up on another. Hugo and his guys appear ahead, and I fly past, watching them in my rearview mirror.

“I don’t see her,” I pant, searching the road ahead.

But Stoli speaks up. “It’s just a piece of clay, Hawke.”

“And the only thing of value to Jared, other than his family,” Kade fires back. He looks to me. “Don’t lose her. I want it out of her dirty, thieving hand.”

Where the fuck did she go? I spin around the corner, race down the empty street, and look left and then right. Taillights catch my eye, and I jerk my head, seeing a car enter the park.

Those aren’t Mercedes taillights, but I recognize the vehicle. I hit the brakes, a screech filling the air around us.

“Ugh, there goes ten dollars’ worth of tire,” Kade grumbles.

Reversing, I turn and hit the gas, driving into Eagle Point, around the bend, and up the lane. The chain-link fence lays across the road, the back entrance of the park only for people entering on foot.

Did she do this? Is she trying to get arrested?

I drive in, the fence grinding under my tires, and survey the area, looking for any sign of her. Picnic tables and playgrounds decorate the landscape, along with a pavilion and amphitheater, and then there’s the…

I glance left, seeing the pond.

The Mercedes is there, driven to the edge of the bank that overlooks a fish pond about ten feet down. The driver’s side door hangs open.

I turn, hurrying over.

“Where is she?” Kade asks.

I pull up to the car, leaving it running as I jump out. “I don’t know.”

I stop at the edge of the basin, looking down into the water below. Dylan’s parents were married here. It’s a small body of water, man-made, surrounded by a rock deck and rock walls. A small waterfall spills below me, a tiny stream leading to the water. It’s blue-green in the sunlight, but tonight it’s black.

Where the hell is she?

I head back to the Mercedes, searching the car, but there’s no sign of her.

The trunk.

That’s what Axel had said. He was worried about the trunk. I pop the lid and look inside, two black duffle bags next to each other and stuffed in the back.

I pull one out, unzipping it.

Stacks of cash sealed in Ziploc bags cover the bottom, two large, red bricks of coke on top.

Son of a bitch.

Kade peers inside. “Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“In Shelburne Falls?” he blurts out.

I shake my head. He doesn’t let himself see things he doesn’t want to see, including the fact that our nice, little town has a dark side.

I yank out the second bag, finding more money.

I don’t give a shit about the cash, but if these drugs belong to who I think they do, turning them in to the cops is useless. My gut twists, knowing what my dad would do. Especially after what happened a few years back.

All this shit does is hurt people.

I snatch up the two packages of drugs and head down the small hill, digging my pocket knife out.

Kade jumps in front of me. “Hawke, what are you doing?”

“Move.”

But I don’t wait. I veer around him, unsheathing the blade.

“Hawke!”

I stop at the fence that separates us from a hundred-foot drop off a cliff that overlooks the river with barges, the dam, and Weston on the other side.

Stabbing the package, I slice through it, white powder clouding the air, and I rip it open, holding my breath as I spill the fucking shit over the side of the cliff. The wind picks it up, and a cloud of white sweeps over the tops of the trees below, drifting south.

“No!” I hear a girl’s howl and footsteps pounding toward me.

But I already have the second one torn open, and I shake it hard, emptying the contents.

“Shit!” she cries. “Stop!”

I spin around, chucking both packages over the side and see the girl, grabbing her collar as I shout at Kade. “Go! Take the guys, and go now!”

“Hawke—”

“Just go!” I yell. “Don’t leave Dylan’s side. I’m right behind you.”

He hesitates, looking like he wants to argue, but then he twists around and runs. Stoli and Dirk follow him.

I take hold of her with both hands, backing her up to the tree behind her.

“I’m dead,” she murmurs. “What did you do?”

Reaching into her pocket, I pull out the charm and hold it up. “That’s all I wanted.”

She slams me in the chest, baring her teeth. “Don’t touch me.”

I almost laugh, because not once did it ever occur to me to touch her how she thinks I would.

But it’s not funny. Nothing at all is funny about the situation she’s found herself in. “You shouldn’t go back to them.” I tuck the charm away in my pocket and meet her eyes. “Go get yourself a real job and re-evaluate your friendships, honey. Have a nice life.”

I turn to leave, but someone is there. I halt, seeing Officer Reeves.

Shit.

He stands there, out of uniform and alone, approaching us. “Hawke.”

I feel the girl at my side, and my legs are suddenly too heavy.

“You okay?” he asks me.

I steel my jaw. His Challenger idles behind him, the headlights off, and he reaches into his leather jacket. He’s not on duty. I wish he was. He’s more of a problem when he’s not.

“Miss Marquez,” he says, nodding. “Quite the mess you’ve made. Are you armed today?”

I glance at her, but she stares at him, not responding. That look is in her eyes again. The fear. Just a bit, but it’s there.

Reeves’s Challenger is the car I saw entering the park, and I followed, because he was probably looking for her too. Hugo would’ve called him, because Hugo’s not the one in charge. Not ultimately.

I’ve known about Reeves and Green Street for a while. And who really runs it.

“You can go home,” he tells me. “Your parents will be worried with all the commotion over there. I’ll take it from here.” He walks toward us. “Tell your mom I said hi.”

I see the girl out of the corner of my eye, and I know…

She’s going to take punishment for this. I don’t know what I was thinking.

“I should come with you both,” I finally say. “Give my statement. I dumped some drugs I found.”

He stops, his gaze hard. “You destroyed evidence?”

Evidence. I want to laugh. No, I just cost you thousands of dollars.

But I just say, “Yes, sir.”

“No,” the girl blurts out. “He didn’t. He’s just trying to be the hero. It was me.”

I look over at her. Why is she lying? He’s going to hurt her. Or worse.

“That’s…unfortunate,” he says in a low voice, eerily calm.

Goddammit. Is she actually trying to help me? I’m not in danger from him. All of my friends know I’m here. I’ll be missed if I disappear into an unmarked grave, and my uncle is the best attorney in the state. I’m not in any real trouble.

What will he do to her?

“Hawke, you can go,” he says again.

No.

He calls her over. “Come here, girl.”

I hear her breath shake, but slowly, she passes me, lifting her chin.

My mind races. Something’s not right. He’s not taking her in, and even if he does, he’ll have time to do anything he wants to her first. No one believes kids like her.

Like my dad when he was her age.

I walk past him, away from the pond, leaving her behind, and knowing there’s nothing I can do. I can call more police. Make sure she’s not alone with him.

But then he has her in jail. With full access.

And if she’s released, she’s a target.

It happens. Shit happens every day, all over the planet, and you know there will be more. More people like her who make all the wrong decisions and get used. It’s just life.

It’s her fault anyway. She robbed us and stole her boss’s car. She got herself here. She’s a mess.

And she took the blame for me. Stupid girl.

I walk past his car, and I’m moving before I think too hard. I yank open his car door and climb in, pushing away all the panic of what I’m about to do. I shift into gear, look ahead, and see them, his hand caressing her face just before it slips up her ski cap and fists her hair.

She winces, and I flip on the headlights.

Reeves twists his head, seeing me in his car, and I hit the gas. I’m not letting some rat punk from Weston take the fall for me, even if everything else tonight is her fault. But even more, I’m not letting him use kids to make money.

“Hawke!” he shouts.

I ram the Mercedes, hitting the gas until it tilts, falls, and rolls down the incline to the pond. It crashes below, all of his fucking money in the trunk, and he releases her, running over and slamming his fist on the hood of the car.

I stop, push open the door, and step out. “Run!” I tell her over the hood.

Her dark eyes stare at me as she breathes hard.

“And that’s the last time I help you,” I growl at her. “Get out of here!”

I’ll get out of this, but she won’t.

She sidesteps like she hasn’t found her legs yet, but then she runs, her hair flying against her back as she disappears into the night.

You’re welcome! But I don’t say it out loud. No idea if she has a chance, but at least she has tonight.

Reeves starts to go after her, but I swing around the back of his car and shove him to the ground.

“You little shit!” he spits out.

I put my hands up, surrendering, but he climbs to his feet and grabs my head, pulling me to the ground.

We tumble, rolling over the side of the incline, falling over the rocks, and I separate myself, scrambling backward to get away from him.

“Just like your fucking father,” he says, advancing on me. “Always in the way.”

I flex my jaw as he comes at me with his hands, but then his foot shoots out, taking me off guard. He kicks me, and I plummet into the pond. I gasp, going under, but it’s only a few feet deep. I find my footing and rise back up.

I just open my eyes, but he’s there, his hand fisting my hair and pushing me back down. What the fuck?

I open my mouth, bubbles rising in front of me, but all I hear is my own muffled yell under the water. I grapple at his hand, trying to free myself, but just as I’m about to pull him in with me, he’s gone. My head is free, and I pop up, drawing in a deep breath, sputtering.

What the hell?

Wiping my eyes, I look up and see the Rebel standing over me. To her side, Reeves is on the ground, holding his bleeding ear and shuffling away from her.

She holds a rock in her fist, and for a second, I’m frozen. She didn’t run.

Stupid girl.

“You’re dead,” he tells her, almost a whisper.

I climb out of the pond, she looks up at me, and I look at her.

And we move. Slowly away from each other. She drops the rock, running right, and I gaze down at Reeves one last time before I take off to the left.

“Stop!” he bellows after us.

But we’re gone, each going our own way, and I know we’re both in a shitload of trouble right now, but I just need a second to figure out what to do.

I leap down some more rocks, racing through the park and out the front entrance, going the only place I know I’m safe right now. I just need to catch my breath. I need to think.

Fuck! What the hell happened? What did I do? It went so fast.

I hit a cop. I destroyed his property, and even if my family can protect me from him, they can’t protect me from Green Street.

And she’ll be dead no matter what.

I whip off my wet T-shirt, slipping it into my back pocket, and keep my eyes peeled as I cross High Street.

Reaching up, I pull the ladder down and climb up the fire escape, hopping up onto the roof. I go to the door in the ceiling that sits between Quinn’s bakery and Rivertown. It’s only been an hour since I was here last.

I take a moment, trying to calm down. I’m safe up here. The entire roof of this strip of businesses is shielded by the trees on High Street, and I breathe in and out, thoughts racing through my head.

It’s okay. I had to do it.

Or maybe I didn’t. Maybe there was another way.

Either way, I’ll be fine. I can handle this. I’ll get out of it. I’ll figure it out. When I tell them about Reeves, he’ll roll over on his lackeys. They’ll get arrested and Green Street will be gone. I won’t need to watch my back.

I can buy myself time and get this handled.

Blue and red lights flash in the night, and I head over to the edge of the roof, looking down. Cop cars race down High Street, Reeves probably realizing he had no choice but to report this. He’ll need to control the narrative now.

And then, I see her. Running down the sidewalk and more cop cars down the street, about to be on her tail.

She stumbles into the alley, and I follow her around the roof, looking down as she struggles. I hear her breaths from here.

I raise my eyes, seeing the patrol cars close in, slowing as they approach the side street she disappeared onto.

They saw her.

She’s about to give out. She can’t run anymore.

They’ll have her soon.