1. Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Naomi
Earlier that day
I get into my car after a late-night shift at Granny’s, a 24/7 diner, at 12 AM according to the dashboard. Cracking my neck, I turn on the radio to have something to sing along to on my forty-five-minute drive so I stay awake.
About twenty minutes in, my car starts making a sputtering sound. I look at my gas gauge, and it’s showing that my tank is empty, which is bullshit because I filled it last night. “Fuck!” I yell out to the abyss. I can’t afford to lose a whole gas tank with all my other bills. I gingerly pull over to avoid an accident. Not that I expect anyone else to come down this road at this time of night.
Eventually, the car sputters to a complete stop. “Goddamn it!” I scream, slamming my palms on the steering wheel as I try to ignore the tears forming. There’s nothing but trees for miles in each direction, with no cars in sight at this late hour. My phone has no charge left because we were so busy from the moment I walked into work—not even getting a second to plug it in. And I stupidly forgot during my very short break.
Refusing to let fear take over, I get out of my car, grabbing my sweater and purse. I start toward home, walking on the edge of the road. At least it’s a nice night outside, which helps.
After fifteen minutes, I see headlights illuminating the dark road. Help! I turn around to flag down the vehicle—hoping they can give me a ride into town. I smile in their direction, but it quickly turns into a frown as I see that the car is starting to speed up—the echo of the acceleration bouncing off the trees.
“What the—” I don’t finish the thought before I’m running as fast as my feet will take me in the opposite direction. I go into the grass, but the car keeps coming. I trip over something and fall, making me lose my slip-on sneakers. I don’t risk searching for them before running straight into the woods—taking my chances getting lost there versus this apparently murderous stranger.
Rocks and twigs are digging into my feet as I run wildly through the woods. I don’t have even half a second to consider the pain of my feet being torn apart. The fear of being caught and needing to run is solely taking over my focus.
I can hear the echo of the car door opening and closing, but that just makes me push myself faster. “Go! Go! Go!” I shout at myself. “You have to get away.”
“Running away are we, little bird? I love it when my prey runs from me!” my assailant yells out.
Not being able to see in front of me, I trip again, hitting my head on a tree. I moan out in pain as I see stars and the trees start to blur. Not getting a chance to get up, I feel a hand grip a chunk of my hair and pull.
The person whispers into my ear, “I caught you little bird.” Then he pulls so hard he yanks the chunk of hair out of my head. I scream out in excruciating pain . . .
“Stop!” I scream out.
I sit up abruptly, coming out of my slumber—sweat coating every inch of my skin.
“Another nightmare?” Quinnly calls out from the corner of the room. I’m lucky to have her as not only my adoptive little sister, but also my best friend. The Adams family adopted me when I was twelve years old. I’d been stuck in the foster care system for two years following my mother’s brutal murder. There was no one to care for me, as my dad passed away before I was born and my mother didn’t have any family. The police never found the person responsible, but the details of the crime have haunted my sleep ever since.
I kick my head back into my pillow and groan loudly. “As always.”
I turn to take a peek at her, and the smell of acetone takes over now that I’m fully awake. “Were you watching me in my sleep while painting your fucking nails?”
“The TV was boring, and you talk in your sleep.” She shrugs as she continues to paint her toes a bloody red. “Besides, we know I’m not supposed to wake you from a night terror.”
Rolling my eyes at her, I get up. “I need coffee.”
Quinnly smiles at me as she gets up from the chair, giving me a full view of her typical quirky outfit. She’s wearing a neon-pink poofy skirt and tight corset top, accentuating her many tattoos—especially the word “menace” across her throat. “Yeah, grumpy gills, I put on a fresh pot.”
“New fit, I see,” I say.
“You like?” Her blue eyes twinkle as she does a little spin. “You know I hate wearing the same outfit twice.”
I smirk at my baby sis, she’s as unhinged as they come and always makes life more interesting. But there’s no one else I’d want having my back. “I love it,” I say, winking at her.
“You can borrow it if you want. I won’t need it after today.”
Looking down at my own simple pastel-colored silk pajamas, I shake my head. “I don’t know where or if I’d be able to rock that. Not like you.” I’d love to embrace my darker side, but I don’t trust it. Not even something as simple as a grungier outfit.
The right side of her lips perks up. “I definitely am, aren’t I? Come on! Coffee awaits.” She leaves down the hall of our house toward the kitchen without another word—her purple and green side ponytails swaying as she walks away.
Aside from the obvious non-blood relation, on the outside my sister and I are polar opposites. She’s the loud to my quiet. The warm to my cold. The outgoing to my reserved. What people don’t see is the darkness that fortified an unbreakable bond between her and I from a young age. We like to keep it that way, it’s our little secret.
“What are you up to tonight?” she asks as she pours me my coffee. I take the mug from her—needing the dark roast like people need air. Inhaling, I enjoy the smell before bringing the wonderfully bitter liquid to my mouth. “I’ve got Jessey’s birthday party.”
She pouts. “Without me?”
“Well, woman, you were invited.”
Rolling her eyes at me she says, “And miss my flight? Fuck that. I have a board to scratch!” Quinnly has a challenge she’s been completing for about half a decade—visiting each state and experiencing some bloody madness. She’s off to somewhere in the South this time, I believe. It’s hard to keep track as she goes where her mood takes her. “Plus Jessey’s parties are a snoozefest.” She’s used to very exclusive parties that get wilder than a simple boozy birthday bash.
I roll my eyes back at her playfully. “I’m gonna miss you, Quinn,” I admit honestly. She’s the only family I have left after my adoptive parents died in a car accident years ago. More recently, Quinnly’s paternal grandfather, our Paps, also passed away. We were extremely close to him, so it was hard on us both. But that’s the trouble with grandparents, they always leave before you’re ready. While I had no blood relation to them, the Adams family welcomed me with open arms, even through my tantrums as I adjusted—they never treated me any differently than Quinnly.
“I’ll miss you too, Mi. But we both have fun adventures to look forward to!” She winks at me.
“We sure do,” I say simply. Taking another sip of my coffee, I start picturing all I’ve done to set up my life.
After the tragedy with my mother, I was a quiet, rage-fueled tween. I kept my head down for the most part as I hopped from group home to group home. But when it came to defending myself, I took no shit. I was determined that not a soul out there would be able to catch me like they did my mom. I enveloped Quinnly in that protection too. After some bullies picked on her at school, I taught her everything I knew. We became the protectors of the school after that; bullies ran when they saw us coming.
I set up my life like perfectly placed dominoes, just waiting for the trigger to have it all come tumbling down in a grand moment of triumph.
Once adopted, I felt hope for the future and worked hard to be the best daughter I could be to my new parental figures—not causing them any headaches. I let Quinnly be the wild child, even if every fiber in my being wanted to go off and run free with her. All my hard work paid off, and I’m now the youngest and highest grossing surgeon at NYU.
“Let’s go grab lunch before I’m gone for a few months,” she suggests.
I raise my eyebrow at her as I shuffle back toward the bedroom. “Are you gonna go off-grid for those months too?”
She groans in response before adding, “That was one time!”
“And I was scared shitless,” I scold, my annoyance showcasing in my matter-of-fact tone.
“Fiiiine, I promise to check in with just you on the phone,” she relents.
“You better!” I demand.
I quickly change into ripped jeans and a pastel floral blouse, pairing them with some combat boots and a leather jacket to give the outfit more of a dark flare. I enjoy toying with delicate and edgy. We make our way down the front path to the street where my car is parked.
“I’m driving,” I say. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, making my spine straighten. Furrowing my brow, I take a look around my surroundings, not stopping my momentum to the car. Is someone watching me?
“What’s wrong?” Quinnly asks curiously, as she also starts looking around.
“Nothing,” I say, allowing my face to split into a grin.
She squints her eyes at me, before giving me a knowing smile.