Chapter 14
Sloane
Achild’s scream jolts me awake, and I yelp into the ceiling.
It takes a second to remember I’m alone, no dog bleeding, no knife glinting, just the distant hum of traffic and my radiator’s soft buzz, like it’s purring.
My heart races, tank top damp with sweat.
I fling a sweater off the chair and tug it on, waiting for my pulse to settle.
In the kitchen, I burn the toast and overbrew the coffee. Disgusting, but it’ll have to do. I’m in no mood to start from scratch. The radiator hisses, battling the winter chill, and the kettle sends up lazy swirls of steam. It's all the soundtrack to the jumble in my head.
I’m not fixated on Maddy’s murder; I’m determined to solve it. Prove she wasn’t tied up in drugs. I pour coffee, let it scorch my tongue just to feel grounded. I have to talk to Ethan, and Lucas can’t get his act together until next week. That’s too long.
A plastic knife scrapes through butter on my toast—I don’t keep metal ones in the house. I check my phone: wait or act? My thumbs dial out to Lucas.
“Any chance you can meet sooner? It’s important.”
The coffee goes cold in my hand as I stare out the window, waiting.
“Sorry,” he texts back. “Still eating and sleeping and showering and shit.”
Classic Lucas. I’d hassle him, but he’s not ready. I get it.
I pace past piles of papers, case files, and teetering books. A sad, droopy plant in the corner seems to sigh along with me.
My thoughts turn to Rafaele. He’s the one who can really help, and he said he would. Even made me promise not to go without him.
Without giving myself time to think it over, I snatch up my phone. My fingers fly over the screen.
"Need backup. Today?"
The moment I hit send, my phone lights up with Raffaele's name. That was fast.
I pick up, but he speaks before I can say hello.
"No," he says, voice blunt and final.
"Glad to hear from you," I tease, setting down my mug with exaggerated care.
"Sloane," he drawls, heavy and warning. "Not happening."
"But I haven't even told you when or where," I protest, feeling my frustration start to rise.
"Doesn't matter. You can't go alone."
His words come across like orders, each one clipped and uncompromising.
"That's why I'm asking you to come," I argue back, trying to push some cheer into my voice.
Pause. I imagine him thinking it over, weighing his options.
"I can't today," he finally says.
"And here I thought you'd be more helpful than Lucas," I jab, feeling the exasperation spill out.
He sighs, the sound low and gruff.
"Today doesn't work for me, Sloane. We’ll go Thursday or Friday."
"I've waited long enough—" I start to say, but he cuts me off, voice snapping like a whip.
"Sloane, I forbid it," he says, sharp and severe. "Promise me you won’t do something stupid."
I grip my phone tight, anger pulsing through me.
"Thanks for the support, Rafe."
I throw his name back at him, sarcasm biting.
He tries to keep talking, his voice turning softer, like he’s backpedaling. But I don’t want to hear it. I hang up, already slipping my phone into my pocket.
His voice echoes in my head, more forceful by the second. Promise me. Promise me. Promise. My jaw clenches.
Stubborn beats smart, and my family’s reminded me of that plenty. I grab my bag and yank on a coat. If I hesitate, I’ll overthink myself into a puddle. Better to move. Act.
Outside, the cold air pricks my cheeks. My pulse rattles in my ears as I weave through commuters, their steely morning faces and armor-like bags oblivious to my mission. I slip past them onto the subway platform, the train’s roar echoing my own determination.
This building is five stories of cracked concrete, barred windows, and grime, practically the poster child for this neighborhood.
Everything looks gray and uncaring. I get a quick jolt of fear—how many times has Maddy stood here?
—but my anger chases it away. Ethan is my only lead.
I have to talk to him, see his face when I ask about her.
The bell gives a rough, grating “brEEEEP.”
My hands are cold and stiff, so I pull my jacket tighter and wait.
The street is empty except for a distant siren and the faint taste of city dust in the air.
I picture Maddy here, trying to catch her breath in this polluted haze.
What did she feel? How long was she tangled up with Ethan before things went sideways?
If I could read her fear, maybe I’d get a clearer picture.
A stronger lead. I shiver again. My coat is doing its best, but winter wins.
I should wait for Rafaele or Lucas, but I’m done waiting. Done pretending I can ignore the urgency. I need to look Ethan in the eye and demand the truth. Demand something. Anything. Besides, he was Maddy’s boyfriend, right? Maybe he wants to solve this case as much as I do.
Before I’m ready, the door buzzes. I give one last glance down the street, my heart doing a drum solo.
Nothing moves. I’m a bundle of nerves, heart in overdrive, imagining too many things at once, fear, anger, regret, all playing a cruel game of hopscotch inside me.
But determination wins out, and I rush into the building before I can stop myself.
The door slams behind me, and the sound reverberates down the narrow hallway.
I picture it snapping shut behind Maddy, too, giving me more chills than the cold.
The place stinks of damp cement and stale cigarettes, and I gag on the smell.
The thought of her breathing this day in and day out makes my chest hurt.
The walls are a dingy yellow, streaked with grime and watermarks, and they press in on me like they’re questioning my right to be here.
It’s shabbier than the worst dorm I’ve ever seen.
I grip my phone in my pocket, ready to reach for help, but then desperation nudges me forward. I have nothing to lose except my wait-and-see attitude, and I lost that a long time ago. I begin to walk, my own footfalls joining the heavy pounding in my chest.
This is like a different world, one where everything is old and used up. As I climb the stairs to the second floor, my own steps echo around me, bouncing back with ghostly insistence. Then I hear another set, a slow approach that makes me tense.
A woman opens the door to apartment 210: bleach-blonde hair piled high, a scarlet tank top clinging to her bones. Her eyes, rimmed with heavy liner, narrow at me like I’m a stray cat.
“Who’re you?” she asks in a low, raspy smoker’s voice.
“Sloane,” I say, trying for confidence. “I’m looking for Ethan.”
She laughs, a short bark.
“Well, well. The dickhead does have friends,” she says, waving me in. “He’s this way.”
Inside, cables and cigarette butts litter the floor like someone dumped trash confetti. A space heater hums while distant music throbs, low and sinister.
The blonde leads me past a grimy kitchen, countertops crowded with empty takeout boxes, into the living room. Three guys lounge on sofas, eyes locked on me, unblinking, sizing me up. I stand tall anyway.
“Who’s this bitch?” one of them asks. He’s a slim guy, draped in black and gray, a perfect match for the building. Everything about him screams disinterested, from his flat voice to the laziest kind of sneer on his face.
“You should know. She’s looking for you.”
The guy gets up, and I know he must be Ethan.
Maddy’s Ethan. He glides forward with an easy swagger, his dark eyes steady under a buzz cut, with tattoos snaking jagged lines up his arms. He studies me like he’s got all the time in the world.
I can feel the heat of his stare boring into me, the room silent except for the low rumble of the music.
Something is unsettling in the way he watches me, like a cat watching a mouse.
“Who are you?” he finally asks, his voice smooth and low.
“My na… I’m Sloane Carter,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “I’m Maddy’s friend.” I swallow hard. “Her best friend.”
I stare him down, my heart pounding in my chest.
There’s a pause. Ethan tilts his head like a dog that doesn’t understand a command.
“Maddy who?” he asks, but I catch the twitch in his brow.
My anger rises like a hot tide, damn near volcanic. Madeleine was the best of people, the absolute best, and this jerk, this scumbag who doesn’t even deserve to wipe the mud off her boots, is pretending he doesn’t know who she is?
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask, my words slow and menacing. “She’s your girlfriend who died last month because of some shit you got her mixed up in. So don’t ask me Maddy goddamn who.”
His eyes narrow. “You got a lotta balls showing here without warning, bitch.”
“I wasn’t planning to wait for an invitation,” I retort.
My voice sounds braver than I feel. I try not to notice how the others, probably more Red Hooks members, get up from the couch and move closer.
“Now that you’re here,” he says slowly, “What do you want?”
“I need to know about Maddy.”
Ethan glances at his crew, a smirk playing on his lips like he’s got secret popcorn for the show.
“This isn’t a good time.”
“It’s the only time I have,” I reply.
The blonde cackles, and Ethan’s smirk slides away, replaced by ice.
“Carter,” he says again, dragging out my name with a slick, mocking smirk, making the syllables sound slimy and making me wish I’d never given him my real one. “You should go. Now.”
He jabs his thumb toward the door, a dismissive move that sets my teeth on edge. This bastard thinks he's in control, that he can just brush me off, pretend Maddy didn't matter. My frustration spikes, sharp and fiery.
“No,” I say, planting my feet like roots in the dirty carpet. “Not until you talk.”
The words come out louder than I intend, echoing across the mess of the room. My voice shakes, but underneath it, my resolve is rock solid. Ethan's eyes flash dark and dangerous, narrowing into a stormy line. He’s not used to people standing up to him. Tough. I’m not leaving until I get answers.
“I don’t think you know how this works,” he says, leaning back, all arrogance and slim muscles.
His voice is low and sinister, like a coiled snake ready to strike. The three guys around us shift, silent and menacing, like they’re waiting for a signal to push me out. I keep my focus on Ethan, refusing to budge an inch.
“Teach me, then,” I snap back, throwing his words back at him.
I need him to slip, to let something out. Maybe if he thinks he can scare me, he’ll get cocky, say more than he means to. The air between us feels electric, like one wrong word could set off a firestorm.
Ethan leans forward, closing the distance between us until his face is so close I can see the hard lines of his jaw. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, as sharp as cut glass. This close, he’s much more intimidating than I'd imagined, but I refuse to let him see me flinch.
“You really think you know what happened that night?” he asks, almost whispering.
His words are a taunt and a challenge.
“Maddy didn’t tell me everything,” I say, matching his tone and leaving out the part where she told me absolutely nothing. “But you’re going to.”
My voice sounds steadier than I feel, but the quiver in my stomach is real. He glares at me. Everyone is watching, waiting to see what happens next.
The blonde crosses her arms, the smirk heavy on her lips.
“This bitch is crazy,” she says to no one in particular.
But Ethan doesn’t look amused anymore.
A loud crack makes me jump. Ethan bangs his fist on the table.
“Get out,” he growls.
One of the guys moves in, grabs my arm.
“You heard him. Beat it.”
I twist free.
“Ethan!” I say, panic edging my voice. “You owe me the truth.”
He stands, ice in his stare.
“If I owe you anything, it’s this. Get. Out.”
“Fine,” I say, my breath hitching. “I’ll ask the Callahans instead.”
The room goes still, everyone stopping to stare. Dust floats in the air, our breaths hanging like the radiator is sucking the heat out of everything. The guys circle in, eyes fixed on me, Ethan’s stare the loudest of all. He’s too quiet, studying my face like he’s trying to peel back the layers.
“What did you just say?” he demands, closing the space between us.
His breath is too close to mine, wrapping around me, hot and sour.
“She said she’ll go to the Callahans,” one of the crew echoes, his face blurry behind Ethan’s.
He’s practically shoving the words into Ethan’s ear.
“Sounded a bit like a threat to me,” another chimes in, amused in the nastiest way.
“Funny,” Ethan sneers, giving me a look that could cut glass. “It sounded to me like she said she doesn’t want to leave. Ever.”
“No,” I begin, but then the room spins, and suddenly, I’m yanked backward.
Stumbling back into the other men. One guy is pulling on me. Another guy wraps an arm around me, vice-tight, while a third jerks my hands behind my back. Rough rope tears at my skin, biting into my wrists, then they pull me down a corridor to a back bedroom.
“Think she knows so much,” one sneers.
“Doesn’t know shit,” the other says, pushing me through a door.
I land hard on a bare floor, knees screaming.
“Stay put, smartass.”
A final, hateful glance, and they slam the door shut.
Now I’m alone. My heart thuds against the sudden quiet.
The room is cold and damp, empty except for me and the burning ropes on my wrists.
I wriggle across the room on my ass and press my back against the wall to steady myself.
Ethan doesn’t care about me or Maddy. His smug smile spins in my mind, taunting, impossible to erase.
I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have pushed.
But I did. And now I have to wait.
What will they do? I picture Ethan outside, issuing orders to his cronies. My pulse doubles. Panic twists my chest, but I can’t let it win. I press harder against the wall, feeling the cold bite into my shoulder blades.
Minutes stretch like chewing gum that never loses its tack. I stare at a crack in the linoleum flooring, counting the seconds. My wrists bleed, my thoughts blur, but I hold on.
Because that’s exactly what Maddy would do. And I have no choice but to keep going.