41. Riley
I dart downthe hallway away from Logan’s room, heading toward the door to my bedroom, but when I reach it, I pause. Chloe is probably sleeping by now, and I’m feeling too ramped up and off kilter after what happened with Logan to try to join her.
Now that I’m not distracted by adrenaline, worry for my sister, or the strangely arousing feeling of Logan’s fingers on my skin, the full pain of the newly stitched up wound in my side is beginning to set in. A dull throb radiates outward from my waist, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
So I detour to the bathroom to dig up some aspirin, swallowing them and then staring hard at myself in the mirror. I left the bullet proof vest in Logan’s room when I left, and the blood staining the dark shirt I wore on the mission tonight is starting to dry, making the fabric tacky and stiff. I pull up the hem of the shirt and check out the stitches Logan gave me, unsurprised to find that they’re as tight and neat as if they’d been done by a machine.
Did he really almost kiss me?
I feel a little insane for even thinking that, given how clear he made it that he disliked me when I first arrived here. But things have changed between me and all three of the men during my time living under their roof, and I can’t deny it. Even though I still get nervous around Logan, it’s not for the same reasons I used to. The fluttering of my heart feels much more like attraction than nerves, and I can’t help but wonder how much more things might change between us if they were allowed to grow and develop.
Do we really have to leave Halston?
The voice in my head sounds partly like Chloe’s and partly like mine. I know she wasn’t thrilled about the idea of leaving, and if I allow myself to be honest, I’m not either.
But could we stay? Would any of these men even want that?
Or would they cut me out of their lives anyway, happy to forget everything that’s happened between us even if Chloe and I remained close by?
I don’t have answers to any of those questions, but the good news is, I also don’t have to decide anything tonight. Shit always seems clearer after some sleep, so I’ll start making a real plan tomorrow morning.
But since I can’t see myself actually falling asleep quite yet, I decide to head down to the kitchen. I’ve got no interest in eating right now, my stomach still squirming with the aftereffects of all the shit that’s gone down tonight, but it would be nice to bring something up for Chloe to eat when she wakes up.
As I start to pad downstairs on bare feet, I’m so caught up in my thoughts that it takes me a minute to notice the hushed voices coming from the first floor. Logan is still in his room, so unless someone came by the house this late at night, it must be Maddoc and Dante.
I’m glad they’re still awake. I should go thank them too.
When I reach the first floor, I head toward the office, the floor cool under my feet. It’s definitely Maddoc and Dante talking in the office, and even though I can’t make out everything, what I do hear has my footsteps pausing.
Chloe.
They’re talking about Chloe.
I go as still as stone, holding my breath as I strain to pick up what they’re saying.
“…you think McKenna knew?”
That’s Dante, and there’s none of the laid-back charm or easygoing good humor I’m used to in his voice. Right now, he sounds like a killer. Like a Reaper.
Maddoc’s low laugh in response has a vindictive edge to it. “Fuck no, he didn’t know. You think he would have been using her in a drop like that if he knew what he had on his hands? But now that they’ve lost her and we have her, we’ll finally be able to…”
Whatever it is that Maddoc thinks they can do now is lost to me, becoming nothing more than a low mumble, as if he’s covered his face or moved farther away or something.
I stare straight ahead, not really seeing anything as my mind races. What the fuck? What’s going on?
Dante speaks again, and although I miss the first part of what he says, I catch the tail end of it.
“… gonna seriously come in handy if Logan’s intel is good.”
“Of course it’s good,” Maddoc answers, pausing for what sounds like another drink. “But if we’re… stay in control, one of us will have to… and she won’t want… her choice.”
“Damn,” Dante says, making my eyes prick with tears as I picture the wry smile on his face and the way he’s probably shaking his head when he says it like that. “But better us than those fucking weasels, yeah?”
Maddoc snorts. “Better us than anyone. This is war.”
“The princess isn’t gonna like it.”
“What she likes isn’t a consideration,” Maddoc says in a hard voice that makes something shrivel up inside me. “She delivered her sister right into our hands, and it’s up to us to make this situation work for us.”
I bite back a noise, clenching my fists tight enough that there will be half-moon divots carved into my palms. I still don’t know exactly what they’re talking about, but I’ve heard enough to piece together the fact that they were only pretending to be on my side.
They told me they were going to help me get Chloe back as a way to fuck with West Point and do damage to a rival gang. But that was a lie. What they really wanted was her.
I don’t know why. I can’t even imagine a reason my baby sister would be part of any “intel” Logan dug up. But they clearly want to use her for something, and the next words I hear send my heart into my throat.
“…force her?” Dante asks.
“If we have to,” Maddoc answers grimly. “But I bet we can find a way to be persuasive.”
I’ve heard enough.
As tempted as I am to burst into the room and rail at them, to pound against Maddoc’s broad chest with my fists as I tell him what a fucking bastard he is, I can’t afford to let my emotions get the better of me this time. Moving carefully and quietly, I retrace my steps down the corridor and then creep back up the stairs, avoiding the step that I’ve learned sometimes squeaks a bit.
It was all a trick. The Reapers fucking used me. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let them use my sister too, let alone force her into something.
Or fucking “persuade” her.
My heart is thundering so loudly in my chest as I finally slip into our room that I’m amazed it doesn’t wake Chloe up or bring the Reapers running. Neither happens, though, and for a second, I lean against the door and stare at my sister.
She looks so damn peaceful. So safe and innocent, curled around a pillow with her face relaxed in sleep. None of that is true, though. We’re not safe here and won’t be until we get the fuck away.
Think, Riley. Think.
There’s nothing of value in this room except the clothes Dante brought up for me, but I do know where Maddoc has my phone…. and the money I gave him.
“Fucking bastard,” I hiss through clenched teeth, then press away from the door. Moving quickly and quietly, I pull on some clothes that are a little more practical for running, then slip on the boots I wore earlier. I grab the same type of outfit for my sister before tiptoeing over to stand beside the bed.
“Chloe,” I whisper, shaking her lightly and then covering her mouth when her eyes drift open.
They go wide, but she doesn’t make a sound. She’s smart enough to realize that if I’m waking her up like this, something has gone wrong.
Once I’m sure she’s fully conscious, I take my hand away, leaning even closer to whisper in her ear, “Get up and get changed. We have to leave.”
She nods again and reaches for the clothes I picked out for her, following my lead. My mind races as she dresses quickly, agitation crawling through my veins. We can’t run yet. Maddoc and Dante are still downstairs, and if we try to slip out now, they’ll catch us. As far as they know, I still trust them. They think I’m up here sleeping with Chloe, completely unaware that they have plans for her that they kept secret from me.
We’ll have to wait until they fall asleep. Then we’ll slip out and run for it.
“Where are we going to go?” Chloe whispers, her gaze darting toward the bedroom door.
She’s dressed in the best I could find for her out of what Dante provided. Dark jeans with pockets. Two layers of shirts and a lightweight hoodie that she can pull up over her hair. Industrial-looking ankle boots and a pair of fingerless gloves that are meant for style but might offer a little warmth, a little protection, depending on where the night takes us.
I swallow back my real answer—that I don’t fucking know—and come up with something on the fly.
“I know a guy,” I say, which is only half true. I know a shit-ton of guys. None I’d trust with my sister. None I’d trust to help us get away from the Reapers, or any other gang. But we’ll figure it out once we get out of here.
Chloe chews her lip, uncertainty crossing her face. “We can’t just go back to the apartment?”
I smooth my hand down the back of her hair, shaking my head as I listen with half an ear for any signs of movement in the hallway outside. “No. You know we can’t. Too many people know we live there, and no one can know where we are. We can’t trust these men, Chlo. I was wrong.”
She nods, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie, and she looks so young and lost that it breaks my heart.
I just promised her she was safe. What a fucking liar I was, even if I didn’t realize it at the time.
“Don’t worry,” I whisper. “We’ll take it step by step. First, out of Halston, okay? Then we’ll have a little breathing room to pick which beach you want to head for.”
She nods again, and a knot forms in my stomach.
It was stupid to trust the Reapers. Stupid to let my guard down. And downright reckless to actually believe that these three men cared about me.
Those moments I thought I had with Maddoc, the concern in his eyes when he realized I’d been shot tonight? Lies. Even the things that happened between me and Dante—the painting, the sex, the times when his easy charm made me laugh—were nothing but bullshit.
Because they all knew they were planning to use my sister, and they kept that from me.
I’m not sure how much time passes while we wait, but eventually, I hear the telltale signs of Maddoc and Dante each heading to their bedrooms. Their doors close, and the house goes quiet, but I force myself to wait longer, giving them time to fall asleep. Every minute that passes by feels like torture, and only once I feel confident that enough time has passed do I nod to Chloe.
She nods back, a sharp jerk of her head, and I crack the door open a little and peer outside. Clear.
I ease the door open wider and lead my sister out of the room, moving carefully as we head down the hall.
There’s a step that sometimes creaks on the stairs, and I silently point it out to my sister. She nods and skirts around it, sticking behind me like glue and moving as quietly as a shadow as we make our way downstairs.
Once we reach the first floor, she tilts her head toward the front door, raising her eyebrows in a question.
I shake my head.
If we’re going to make this work, I need my phone, and I need that fucking money. There’s a back door just past the office, and it will probably be smarter to leave through that one. It will give us less chance of being seen by any neighbors, and I’m pretty damn familiar with the landscape back there from all the time I’ve spent staring out my bedroom window, so I’ve got a good idea of which direction to head.
I squeeze Chloe’s hand and lead her back toward Maddoc’s office.
“What’s that?” Chloe breathes as we enter, her eyes darting to the dim outline of the map on the wall.
“Halston,” I answer, sparing it a glance that’s more of a glare. Whatever the Reapers’ end game is, I know it has something to do with that. With the gang territories Maddoc marked on the map, making this corner of the city I grew up in look like something foreign and sinister in the dim light coming through the window from the streetlights outside.
I shush Chloe when she tries to ask something else. She knows better, but she’s nervous. I get it. Now isn’t the time, though.
I check a couple of drawers in the desk, grateful that they slide open smoothly and silently, and finally find what I’m looking for.
“Here,” I whisper, handing Chloe the envelope of cash and my phone.“Put these in your pockets.”
She stows them carefully, and I usher her out of the office and then turn us toward the back door. But as we start to move in that direction, a noise from behind and above us draws my attention.
The creaky stair step.
The blood freezesin my veins, every atom in my body seeming to seize up.
Fuck.
We’re not the only ones who are awake.