The Bedlam Boys: Complete Series

Chapter Nine

Three Weeks Later

Paris groaned, clapping her hands over her ears. “Fucking nonstop with that racket! All night and day. I don’t understand why the construction crews don’t have to obey quiet hours. Don’t they want to sleep too!” she bellowed over my head and out the window.

I flicked down to the wrecking crew, leveling her former neighbor’s mansion. Foundry was stamped on every piece of equipment from the wrecking ball to their hard hats.

They don’t have to obey construction laws because the mayor doesn’t actually have the power to enforce anything in this paper town. Just like she couldn’t enforce the no-development, digging, drilling, or mining laws that she and her buddies skirted as it suited them.

“Ugh.” Paris pulled me up from the window seat and tugged me on the bed with her. She hugged me tight, tucking her head under my chin. “What is going on in this town? Foundry is leveling everything in sight. Quinn Cunningham disappeared. Sheriff Davidson is missing. And my brother...”

Paris trailed off, kindly not going deeper into why I spent the last two and a half weeks staying at a motel instead of in our frat house-turned-home on campus. Henry Gold carried out his threat and told the cops everything Jack Sharpe confessed to. Which meant Jack was suspended and under investigation when the guys returned to Bedlam, refusing to spend another day in hiding when Steven Ellis was on the edge of getting everything he wanted.

They came back, and were promptly arrested for escaping police custody, assaulting a police officer, and their connection to Davidson’s disappearance. The second charge was bullshit since Peters knew damn well that the guys were in the cell when she was attacked by three masked strangers, but since the guys wouldn’t give up who it was, it all fell on their heads.

All five of them were currently in their childhood homes... under house arrest.

Ankle monitors. Beeping if they went out of range. The whole thing. I could only see them on their front lawns or on the other side of their gates, because I wasn’t setting foot in those houses with those women. I only came to spend a few nights with Paris because her folks took an impromptu vacation to the coast to escape the construction.

“Everything’s wrong, Rainey.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. It was a dagger through my chest hearing my sister’s name. I failed her in every way. First by not getting what she and Gran died for, and then by not getting the monsters who killed her. Jackson Hyde, Thea Wood, Lincoln Roberts, and Everett Cooper were gone.

I returned to Bedlam with my last mission on my heart—avenging my sister. Armed with their names, and pictures thanks to social media, I assumed it’d be an easy hunt.

I was wrong.

All four of them stopped showing up for classes. They weren’t in their dorms, apartments, or frats. Their friends said they hadn’t seen or heard from them. The fake accounts and numbers I used to message and call them went unanswered. They’d all gone into hiding, but I knew they were still in Bedlam.

Dante’s done a show every night since the demolition started.

“It’s all so wrong. How did we get here?”

You can blame me.

“Paris,” I began. “There’s something that I need to tell you. It won’t make much sense at first, but I want to be honest with you. You deserve that.”

Lifting her head, she frowned. “Wow, very serious. What’s going on?”

My lips parted, and I told her everything. Well, almost everything. I told her that after Gran was murdered, I teetered on the edge of sanity. Losing my sister tipped me over for good.

Paris asked a lot of questions about the Rainey period, then even more questions about the person I claimed to be now. I left out the part about Zoey on the bridge with a crossbow, and said it just all came back to me one night. That sparked another round of questions about if the guys knew the truth, and how they handled it.

At the end of my last sentence, I stared at her and she stared at me. I never noticed she shared her brother’s ability to hide what she was thinking behind empty, swirling eyes—until that moment.

“Paris, please,” I broke. “Don’t be angry. I didn’t lie to you on purpose. After everything came back, I didn’t know how to explain it to you when it barely made sense to me. I lost myself for years. How do you tell your best friend that without her thinking you’re”—my lips twisted—“mentally deranged?”

“Hey, don’t say that. I don’t think anything like that.” Paris nudged my shoulder. “I won’t lie. This is weird. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say or do in a situation like this, but... I’ve also never lost my family in one tragedy after another. First, your parents. Then, your grandmother. Then, your little sister.”

I dropped my gaze, shoulders shaking.

“It’s understandable that a part of you wanted—needed to hold on to Rainey. Letting her go meant you had no one.” Paris rested her hand on mine, surprising me. “I think the truth came back to you, I-Ivy, because now you know you’re not alone anymore. You have me, Amy, Zara, Presley, and Elise. You have my brother and your guys. You’re healing, Ivy.”

I let out a chuckle that was more a sob. “Doesn’t f-feel like healing.”

“Getting stronger hurts. Your lungs burn. Muscles ache. You sweat and wheeze and want to give up every day, but then you cross the finish line, and all that pain is amazing. Because it means you accomplished something. It hurts now.” Paris’s grip tightened on me. “But when you come out on the other side of this, you’ll know what it was all for.”

Swiping my eyes, I got a hold of myself as her speech penetrated, sinking into the deep hole of despair that refused to believe there was a brighter side to losing your entire family and the inheritance they left you.

“You’re really not angry with me? I thought you’d throw me out and yell at the freak to stay away from you.”

Paris rolled her eyes, sighing. “Cairo. He handled it like a jerk and that’s what made you afraid to tell everyone else the truth, isn’t it?”

I inclined my head. “Pretty much.”

“Ugh. I love that guy, but you can be sure that whatever his reaction is to something, I will have the opposite and sane reaction. We’re good, Ivy. You never have to worry about that.”

I jumped on her, hugging her so tight, she grunted.

“Gosh, woman, alright. I guess I can throw you one fuck since we’re riding on all these fluffy feelings, but just one, and don’t go falling in love with me.”

I busted up laughing—hugging her even tighter. “I’m going to pass on that, but I’ll hold on to the IOU.”

“Course you will. I knew you were into me.”

“It’s because you’re way more like Cairo than either of you wants to admit. I don’t care that you have different fathers and were born a year apart. You’re clones.”

“Take that back.”

“No.”

She scrambled out from under me and seized a pillow. “Take it back, de Souza.”

“Oooh,” I crowed, reaching for one of my own. “You’re gonna have to make me, Keller.”

I ducked the first swing and came back fast. Thus began the pillow fight to end all pillow fights.

For one entire night—thirteen hours exactly—I forgot I was still in the lungs-burning, sweat-in-my-eyes, dying-to-lie-down-and-give-up part of the race. I forgot about Gold, Ellis, the Sisters, and even the demolition because for the first time in over two weeks, they didn’t work through the night.

Paris and I stayed up watching movies and eating junk. After she fell asleep, I snuck into the bathroom and called my guys. Arsenio told me to send him a video of me masturbating to get him through the night. Jacques listed every legal and illegal method he’d been researching to get my inheritance back. Roan promptly dropped his pants and initiated phone sex. Legend tried to tempt me into coming over, laying it on thick about my promise not to let him sleep alone.

Cairo didn’t pick up the phone.

The next morning, I put my things in the back of Paris’s car, along with my backpack and homework. I was going straight to the motel when my last class of the day was out. Her parents would be back from their trip that afternoon. The last thing my lifted spirits needed was for the sight of that cold-blooded schemer to harpoon them.

“When are you going to tell Zara, Amy, and the girls?” Paris bounced in her seat, humming along to a decent song on the radio. “Do you want to?”

“I do. It hurts every time they call me Rainey. Plus, the longer I keep silent, the more I feel like I’m lying.” I watched the town zip by me, and all the demolition equipment and workers gearing up for another day. “This is a hard story to tell over and over. Even if they take it well, they’ll look at me differently. When someone has a complete and total mental breakdown, people hold their breath, wondering when the next one is coming.”

“You need to give our friends more credit. Like I’d have anything to do with someone like that. You wouldn’t either if they ever gave off that vibe. Admit it,” she breezed. “You love us. Have since the first night we hung out. You know we have your back.”

I couldn’t fault Paris’s gift for knowing character. Jacques told me Zara was one of the names on our list of nine. That brief second when a biting chill leaked from her soul, stiffening his spine, reminded him of me, of all people. He said I had the same look the night I jumped from the bridge... and the night I killed Quinn.

Despite what he said, none of it made me wary or question Zara. Like I told him, going through what she did changes a person. Doesn’t make her bad, broken, or dangerous. She’s different, and she’ll always look at the world differently. Finding out all this about Zara just made me think she was someone I could talk to about the things others wouldn’t understand.

“I’ll think about a good time to tell them. Soon,” I promised. “This town is so overrun with secrets and lies. I’m tired of living that way.”

“Amen.”

Paris drove into the student parking lot beside the poli-sci building. We said bye, going our separate ways to class for Paris, and the student union for me to get a latte and a comfortable spot while I killed an hour.

Drink in hand, I didn’t bother looking toward the deck. I didn’t want to be out there if I wasn’t sitting at the Bedlam Boy table while Arsenio discreetly fondled me. I hated that the judge—not Judge Stone—refused to extend the limits of their ankle monitors to campus. She said they had to watch lectures and hand in their assignments online, and they’d shut up and be grateful Legend’s lawyer worked out such a good deal. They deserved to be awaiting trial in prison for attacking cops.

If that judge knew half the horrible things Davidson did, she’d save the outrage for someone who deserved it. I dropped my things on a study table on the second floor and got comfy. Even though Jack told everyone he lured him into a trap, where he was held and tortured by masked men, the effort the new acting sheriff, Peters, was putting into finding them said volumes.

They thought Jack was lying to cover for his son. Gold got what he wanted. Jack’s credibility was shot.

I was losing my brighter mood fast, so then was as good a time as any. Tugging out my laptop, I pulled up Dante’s website and hit play on his latest show. I was hardly going to interrupt my time with Paris to let that man drip his poisonous voice in my ear, but now the reprieve was over. If there was any chance he’d give a clue to where he was hiding or what he planned, I’d be listening for it.

“Evening, Bedlamites, it’s day eighteen of the invasion, and yesterday, we watched three homes that have stood for almost one hundred years get reduced to rubble. I’m told they’ll take down Westchester Drumlins next week.

“Did your stomach just turn? Did you ask yourself how can they do this, and why doesn’t someone stop them? The answer is: they can do this because you’re not stopping them. It’s up to us to fight back, Bedlamites!” The sudden shout pounded my eardrums. “If you don’t fight back against oppression, you’re complicit in it.

“Steven Ellis is hosting a town hall meeting this weekend to spout his bullshit that he’s doing good for the town, and he’ll do even more if the rest of you sell your properties at his suspiciously high offers. Go to that meeting and let him know what we think of—!”

My earbud popped out of my ear. “Listening to anything interesting?”

My breath, my body, my pulse... stopped.

Rigidly, I turned in my seat, gazing up at a tall, fit guy with short dark hair, a square jaw, loam-brown eyes, and a pleasing smile that only made his features more charming.

“Dante.”

His smile widened. “Please, we’re in public. Call me Lincoln.”

Setting down his own drink, he drew out the seat across from me, then sat down and started sipping like we were meeting for a coffee date. After all this time. The searching, the letters, the mental torture, and the actual torture.

“Try something, Roberts. I promise you it won’t go down the way you think.”

He laughed. “Whoa, easy. I’m not going to try anything. Why do you think I met you in a public place?” Lincoln swept out his hands. “Lots of people around. Plus, two security guards right over there. We can have this discussion civilly.”

“I am going to civilly bash your skull in with this laptop, and then tell everyone you told me you had a bomb in your bag and I feared for my life.” I closed my laptop, settling the weight on my palms. “Hold still.”

Roberts howled, flinging his head back. “Fair enough. If your choice is to sacrifice me, I understand, but you should know you have other choices. We could work together instead. Take back what was stolen from us. From you.”

“Excuse me? I could not have heard that correctly. Did you just say we could work together?”

“Yes,” he said, laughter draining away. “I mean it, de Souza. Ellis is tearing down Bedlam because he called the mayor’s bluff, and she blinked first.” Lincoln leaned in, making me snap back. He dropped his voice. “We thought we could stop this without you, but Ellis has ignored every letter we sent. Even when we proved we weren’t bluffing.”

“What did you do?” I forced through clenched teeth.

“Nothing you wouldn’t approve of. Foundry makes their members sign a morality clause. We sent the board, three reporters, and five national news outlets proof of shady deals, bribes, and corrupt business practices. That was a week ago and nothing—”

“Get the fuck out of my face!” My shout broke the normal hum of the union, snapping a dozen pairs of eyes on us. “We are not going to sit here and have some friendly chat. You have five seconds to get away from me, or no number of witnesses will stop me.”

Roberts didn’t blink. “Okay. Five seconds? Time me, and if you don’t want to hear what I have to say when I’m done, I’ll tell everyone I said there was a bomb in my bag and I threatened your life. Ready?”

“You—”

“You are the rightful owner of Bedlam and Ellis is digging up your millions.”

The laptop slipped through my grip.

“So?” he pushed when the silence spread. “Should I keep going?”

I didn’t speak. Wasn’t sure I could if I tried. I figured the Black Letter Crew had to know about the deed since Cavendish did. I just wasn’t expecting to hear the truth of it from one of the beasts who killed my sister.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” he continued. “We tried to do this for you, but Ellis is too protected. We gambled that he didn’t tell the rest of his board what’s special about Bedlam. We saw how that gamble paid off when they made Ellis’s corruption scandal disappear. The only thing that can stop this now is you claiming your inheritance, and forcing that shit out of our home. You need to do that while there’s still a Bedlam left standing.”

Nothing came from my side of the table.

“Shit, you really didn’t know about any of this, did you?” Cursing, he tossed his head. “That’s how the Bedlam Boys wanted it. I knew we should’ve gotten them away from you sooner. Maybe Davidson did do something right—” Lincoln raised a brow. “I assume he’s dead? Quinn too?”

Lincoln nodded like my face told him the answer. “Figured. When they and the sheriff all disappeared on the same night, we knew you got one or both of them to talk. When they didn’t come back, we also knew you didn’t have use for them anymore.

“But while you were questioning them, did they tell you what the Bedlam Boys didn’t? Because here’s the truth, de Souza. Their mothers are in a group called the Society of Sisters. After the revolt...”

Dante launched into the entire history. From Amadeo de Souza, to the end of the Men of Honor and the rise of the Sisters.

“Then the deed that survived the decades until your grandmother died and the Sisters got hold of it. Cavendish told us they destroyed it and you were no longer any use to us. After you lost it and started calling yourself Rainey, he said to leave you to rot. You’d blow your brains out soon enough.”

His words traveled in my ear, stirred no reaction, then faded into vapor.

“But then, around the start of last year, Zoey dug up something and started thinking Scott was lying to us. He said the deed was gone, but one day his girlfriend left her alone in their house to wait for him, and she found research he hid under a floor panel. It was all these private investigator reports on Jack Sharpe and his associates. On top of whether or not the mentally incompetent can leave a will.

“It was obvious he was still scheming to get a deed that supposedly didn’t exist. Zoey confronted him and he spilled the whole thing. The Sisters decided to go with mutually assured destruction instead of outright destroying the deed. If we didn’t behave ourselves, they’d tell the world the truth about everything. None of us would get a thing.”

My eyes narrowed a fraction. He thinks the Sisters are behind making Cavendish back off? They don’t know Jack acted alone?

“Eventually, he accepted there was no way the Men of Honor could get their hands on Bedlam without the Sisters bringing shit down on all our heads. So he decided if he couldn’t have it, no one would.”

“What does that mean?” I forced through the needles in my throat.

“It’s why he goaded you into killing him. The plan was to trigger the bomb ourselves, except you’d go down hardest of all.” His light pools held no trace of deceit. “After you killed him, Zoey would come forward as a witness. They’d find all this evidence in your old barn proving you were obsessed with Cavendish because you thought he killed your grandmother.

“Everything would be there. The real history of Bedlam. Amadeo de Souza. The Men of Honor. A copy of your grandmother’s fake will putting Scott in charge of everything. And notes tracking a missing deed that stated you owned everything.

“Once all that hit national news, you’d be in prison, the Sisters would lose control of their stolen town, and the government would slap the town off the land and claim the riches underneath. Cavendish’s final sacrifice in the game... was to ensure we all lost.”

“But I’m still here,” I said cautiously. “No arrest. No prison.”

“That’s because we protected you, Ivy.” Lincoln reached across the table, palm up. “We didn’t know who you were when you became one of us. We knew the first Men of Honor owed their existence to one man—their leader and founder. We didn’t know that man was your ancestor. Cavendish lied so we’d never guess how important you are, or tell you how important you are.

“After he ordered us to kill your sister and you fell apart, the lying bastard finally told us you were the de Souza, but with the deed lost to us, you lost to yourself, and what you’d do to us if you ever got your memory back, there was no way you’d take your rightful place as leader of the Men of Honor.”

What did he just say?

“He made us your enemies before we ever had a chance, and then he asked us to take it further and destroy you. We let the traitor die and become an unsolved murder instead.”

My head spun. This was it? This was the reason Cavendish forced me to kill him? In a nihilistic temper tantrum because he couldn’t get his hands on my land or my money, so no one else would have it either?

“But Zoey,” I cried. “You didn’t want me in prison, but you wanted me to jump off a bridge? What fucking sense does that make!”

That still outstretched hand balled into a fist. “Zoey acted on her own. She took over the Men of Honor after Cavendish, and she wasn’t interested in stepping aside for you. According to her, you were still a traitor for choosing Cairo Sharpe over us. We were fighting about it, but I didn’t know she was planning to get rid of you for good until it was almost too late. I stopped her on the bridge,” he said, thumping his chest. “I protected you. Me. As I’ll continue to do until and after you take your rightful place.”

“Stop saying that,” I snapped, throwing up my hands. “I don’t have a rightful place. I’m not, nor will I ever be, your leader. You killed my sister!”

“We were lied to.”

“Think I give a shit? Do you think that erases the memory of you guys laughing and making jokes while you ripped her apart?” Burning wetness blurred his impassive handsomeness. Another evil joke. Monsters should look like monsters. “You’re going the same way as your buddy, Quinn, and that’s a promise. Want to know how she died or should I surprise you?”

Roberts shrugged. “Surprise me. I don’t give a shit about Quinn. She was becoming difficult,” he said. “Didn’t like that every version of this ended with us getting rid of the Bedlam Boys.”

My heart thumped an extra beat.

“We didn’t tell her to get involved with those guys. Legend decided she was their next girlfriend, and she said yes thinking she could get something on them. Complete waste of time,” he said. “They didn’t say, do, or leave anything incriminating around the whole time she was in their house.

“The only thing she accomplished was falling for them. She hated that you both stole them and were the reason they had to go.” He inclined his head. “Except for Banks of course. Quinn only tolerated him because of Legend. She arranged for him to get stabbed during that brawl. Damn sure wasn’t pleased when he walked away with a little cut.”

Eyes bugging, that day came into sharp focus. Quinn storming up and loudly shouting Roan’s various fetishes until Cairo shut her up. She went straight to attacking Roan even though they all dumped her. No love lost there.

But to think she got one of her buddies to try to kill him? Every day I regret her death even less than I already do.

“Maybe what Quinn hated is that you guys don’t make any sense. Why would you have to get rid of them for me? I’m in no danger from them.”

The corner of his eyes wrinkled as quickly as his lips twitched. The flash of hatred and contempt was so fast, if I blinked, I would’ve missed it.

“How can you say that after what I’ve told you? They’ve conspired with their mothers to steal what rightfully belongs to you. They took you. Humiliated you. You’re leader of this town, and they put a leash on you and forced you on your knees. None of that was kink or coincidence,” he hissed. “They wanted to break you down and keep you dependent on them, so that if you ever discovered the truth, you wouldn’t try to fight against your masters.

“It’s disgusting,” he spat. “A Man of Honor bows to no one. They are beholden to no one. They had to be sacrificed anyway to end the Sisters’ legacy once and for all. They all had just the one son. No daughters, and now there will never be any granddaughters. Their treatment of you sealed their fate.”

I gaped at him, shaking my head in complete disbelief. “Do you actually buy any of the garbage you’re spouting? My protector? Don’t make me laugh.”

“It’s alright if you don’t believe me now, because I will subject myself to any form of test you ask of me. We all will,” he said, holding out his damn hand again. “You are the true leader of the Men of Honor, and the rightful owner of this town. Others in our group attacked you out of greed and selfishness, but those that remain are loyal to you. We will prove it—simply tell us how.” Dante got to his feet. “Once we trust each other again, we can move on to what really matters. Getting Steven Ellis the fuck out of our town.

“When you’re ready, send a message through the site,” he tossed over his shoulder, walking off. “Use your own name this time.”

“Why wait?” I jumped up. “You want to prove something to me, then prove you’re not like the rest of these cowardly thieves who steal and lie and hurt innocent people to get what they want. Tell the whole town who you are, Dante, and what the new Men of Honor want from Bedlam. Until then, don’t expect to survive the next time you ambush me.”

Dante didn’t slow his stride much less acknowledge that he heard me.

I watched after him long after he disappeared around the corner. His revelations assaulted my mind one after the other. It couldn’t be true. This was some kind of hideous trick, and I wasn’t looking far enough to see the endgame. Cavendish and Zoey and Quinn set against me as enemies, but I was supposed to believe the other four in the Black Letter Crew had a huge crush on me? They were protecting me?

Roberts was filling my ear with more evil, twisted manipulations. But why? What does he think he can get from me?

Gathering my things, I left in the opposite direction—fishing out my phone just outside the double doors. He answered on the third ring.

“Cairo, don’t hang up,” I rushed out. “You won’t believe this. Dante came to see me—in person. He told me the most ridiculous lies, said he’d prove his loyalty to me, then strolled off. What do—?”

“What you do is get over here,” he growled. “Now.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. There was no chance of my professors seeing me that day after Roberts sat down.

Forty-five minutes later, I was sitting on Cairo’s front porch, swaying on the chair swing as he rocked us back and forth with the heel of his foot. I flicked down to his ankle and the monitor. I kept telling myself it could be worse. They could all be in the correctional facility three hours away, but even so, none of this should’ve happened. They were falsely arrested over a man I killed, and then arrested again for escaping a jail cell they weren’t supposed to be in.

None of them gave a hint that they blamed me, though they didn’t have to. I was blaming myself plenty for the six of us.

“Stay away from him.”

“He came to me, Cairo. Not the other way around.”

He shot me a look. “I know you, de Souza. Right now you’re thinking of a way you can use this to fulfill your final vendetta. They killed your sister, and now they’re here playing nice and spinning bullshit about loyalty and protection. You think you can meet them somewhere alone next time, and take them out.

“Those four didn’t get this far by being stupid. They’re not walking into any traps, and they’re not doing this to help you get back what you lost. This is all about one legacy—the Men of Honor’s.”

“I know all the things you’re telling me, Cairo. They obviously don’t know the deed is gone for good, but all this has to be a plot to do what Cavendish couldn’t, and get their hands on it. I just don’t know why Roberts believes this is the way to do it. He knows Quinn and Davidson didn’t walk away from us. There’s no chance I’d have anything to do with the people who killed my sister, but he sat there and spun all that crap about ‘putting me in my rightful place.’”

I shuddered. “It was creepy the way he spoke, Cairo. Like I was his possession and he wouldn’t have anyone hurt me... other than him.”

“You know who you belong to,” he said, sweeping over the yard. “And it’s not him.”

Is it you? Can it be you again?

The questions didn’t leave my lips. I had enough rejection from Cairo to break my heart for a lifetime. I couldn’t hear no again.

“Anyway, Dante said more important things mixed in with his lies. He said they plan to sacrifice all the Bedlam Boys. Quinn told us they were framing you for murder, but I think he told her that to get her to stop arguing for your lives. He wants you guys dead.” Our gazes locked. “I could hear it in his voice. The Sisters’ legacy dies with the five of you.”

“We know who they are now. We’ll take them out long before that. You don’t need to worry about us. What you need to do is get your stuff and put it in the guest bedroom. You’re staying here until those black letter dogs are put down.”

I shook my head. “I’d take you up on your offer if you actually wanted me here. You don’t,” I stated, blunt as a truck. “This is all about you wrapping up our unfinished business, so you can walk away from me without looking back. Don’t ask me to play along, Cairo.” His calm pools reflected my glare. “That’s the cruelest thing you could ever do.”

“My blood wronged yours. If I drop it and walk away just because Gold set a piece of paper on fire, I was never serious about making it right in the first place. I will pay what’s owed, but that’s not why you’re going to stop arguing with me, get your shit, and sleep in that guest room.

“You’re doing it because the insane, homicidal bastard who abducted and tortured my father, sat down and had lattes with you today to prove he’s not afraid of you, or getting caught. You’re not going to be sitting in some crap-ass motel room alone the next time he comes to visit.”

“Cairo—”

“Get your stuff, Ivy. Now.”

It was my name that did it. Cairo gave me his father’s keys and sent me off. I returned with the little I had in the world and brought it into the guest room.

In the Sharpe household, the guest room was a storage space for old case files, Cairo’s childhood toys, and a full-size bed beneath a photo of a young Cairo fishing with his dad. I dropped on the sheets and a soft sigh escaped me. The downy comforter was soft, warm, and clean like the mattress underneath. This was already light-years better than the motel.

Knock. Knock.

I jerked awake, squinting blearily at cute little Cairo and his missing teeth. Goodness, I was so comfortable, I passed out fully clothed on top of the bed. That’s what happens when sleepovers at Paris’s don’t include sleep, but do include staying up all night talking and watching movies. As well as early morning phone sex with Roan.

Someone knocked again, dragging me onto my feet. “Cairo?” I called. “Cairo, someone’s at the door.”

Shuffling out, the sound of running water told me where he was. I left him to his shower and padded across the living room, rising on tiptoe to see who it was. My light, dreamy mood evaporated.

I yanked the door open. “What the fuck do you want?”

Steven Ellis lifted a brow. He was smooth and refined standing there in a pressed, bespoke suit, polished loafers, and the self-assured smile he gave to his sons hanging on his lips. The two personal bodyguards behind him looked a lot more serious.

“Quite a greeting. Come now, young lady. There’s no need for bad manners.”

“There’s every fucking need for bad manners, you thieving, gutless, corrupt, impotent loser. How dare you come here? No one in this house has anything to say to you. Fuck off!”

Ellis shot out, smacking his hand on the wood to stop me slamming the door. “Easy,” he said. “I understand your anger, Miss de Souza, but it was you I was looking for.”

“Me? How did you know I was here?”

He nodded to the men behind him. “My friends have been keeping a close eye on you ever since you resorted to harassment.”

“What? I didn’t—”

“I came to return something that belongs to you.”

He snapped his fingers, and a guard stepped forward and placed something in his hands. He handed it to me.

“Belongs to me?” I repeated, screwing up my face at the bundle of opened black letters. “I didn’t send you these. That has nothing to—”

“Enough games.” His voice was slippery and smooth like a black adder slithering over the rocks. “You were upset about the steps I took to secure Bedlam’s future, so the resourceful young lady that you are, you hired another private investigator to dig up this fiction on me. A loser indeed. A sore loser.”

I flicked from the letters to Ellis. “I’m telling you, I have no idea what you’re talking about. But if those letters are filled with fiction, why would I need a private investigator to make it up for me? Sounds like someone else discovered the real you, saggy-jowled, floppy-dick bastard.”

The vein under his brow twitched. “I know you sent these, and now you know that blackmail will not work. My resources trump those of a homeless orphan.”

I took the letters, and flung them off the porch. “You don’t know anything. I don’t sneak around, use PIs to commit crimes, or deliver threats through the mail. Unlike you, I face my enemies head-on. Now get off this porch and go find a pit to fall in. Should be easy? Your crews are tearing up the town.”

He swung out, stopping the slammed door again. “No, Miss de Souza. Not the whole town. Only the most favorable places... like your farm.”

I froze. “Excuse me?”

His smirk widened, squeezing a band around my chest. “I was willing to be civil and uphold my end of the contract, but then you led my sons into the Bedlam Boys’ ambush, and sent lies to reporters and my board. It isn’t wise to behave like someone with nothing to lose when your opponent still has a card left to play.”

“What did you do!”

“What I was well within my rights to do,” he replied. “The sale of de Souza Farm went through days ago. There were hideous, broken-down structures on my property... so I burned them down.”

A roaring pressed on my ears, muffling his horrible, serpentine voice—but not enough.

“There were a few items in the barn that looked to be valuable. I considered selling them but, in the end...” Ellis snapped his fingers again and a guard handed him a bag from behind his back. Ellis dumped the contents at my feet.

“No...”

“The real estate agent mentioned these were gifts from your grandmother. She said she had to get them back to you, but I graciously offered to take that chore off her hands.”

“No.” My face crumpled. Dropping on my knees, trembling fingers picked up the pieces of the carbon arrows.

“The rest didn’t survive the fire.”

Salty wet drops stained the arrowhead. In the hazy days I was Rainey, I melded her past with mine. Rainey did love archery. It was one thing the social butterfly older sister had in common with her bookworm, sci-fi-loving little sister. But the expert archer was me.

I practiced every morning. I squealed with joy every birthday when Gran brought in another huge, bow-sized present.

I stood behind my baby sister, positioning her tiny hands and teaching her to use her first bow.

This one was hers.I stroked the splintered pieces. She always favored the carbon.

“Why-y?” The word choked on a sob. “Why would you do this?”

“Because you and your thug friends don’t seem to understand that I’m not a man to be messed with. You’ve lost. No desperate attempts at blackmail, or laughable threats are going to change that. You—”

“Why!” Screaming, I reared and struck—punching Ellis in the spot that was in closest reach.

“Argh!”

He doubled over, hands flying to his crotch. I pounced on him, bringing him the rest of the way down.

“WHY!!!” Wrapping my hands around his neck, I smashed his head on the wood.

“Hey!” His guards sprang into action—grabbing and pawing at me. I wrenched my arm free and buried my fist in his gut.

One of the hulking beasts tackled me, sending us both toppling over the threshold. I gasped under his crushing weight, but still I fought to get to Ellis.

“That’s enough.”

The guard stopped abruptly—doing nothing to fight off my pummeling.

“You guys aren’t too smart, making trouble in a sheriff’s house.”

Chest heaving and sobbing, I flipped over, landing immediately on Cairo carrying nothing but a towel slung low on his hips, and a gun. His hand was steady aiming it between my captor’s eyes.

“Get off her, then get the fuck off my property. Or I shoot you. Trust me, I won’t go down for getting rid of you, Ellis. Not in this town.”

I wasn’t sure if Ellis heard him. He was still coughing and sputtering on his back.

“Easy, boy,” said the guard on top of me. “No one wants—”

“Reach for that and you’re dead. All you need to do is stand up, keep your hands where I can see them, and back out the fucking door.

“Now!”

Slowly, they did as he said. Climbing off me, the guys picked up their pale boss and carried him to his idling town car.

“Ivy, what happened?” Cairo helped me up. “What was he doing here?”

Sobbing, I shook him off and ran. I slammed the door on his question, flinging myself onto the bed.

I thought there was nothing more Ellis could take from me. I was wrong.

He could still rip out my soul, and spread it as broken pieces on the welcome mat.

I CURLED UP IN THEmiddle of the bed where I’d been for hours. Cairo stuck his head in a few times, watched me, and walked back out. The guy wasn’t built to give comfort. His idea of giving me a treat was chasing me through the woods and fucking me like an animal wherever we dropped.

Not even that could distract me from the sight of my grandmother’s last gifts to me and Rainey in splintered pieces on the ground.

At some point, it was Jack who came in carrying a bowl of chicken noodle soup and crackers. He set it on a tray next to me, where it quietly turned into a congealed bowl of cold, soppy noodles.

Buzz. Buzz.

I glanced at the screen. Arsenio.

Cairo didn’t know how to talk to me, so it seemed he was calling everyone else to try. Jacques, Roan, and Legend each called twice already. Arsenio was on his third.

Why won’t they leave me alone? Why wouldn’t everyone leave me the fuck alone!?

Between Steven Ellis, the Black Letter Crew, and the Society, they’ve taken everything and everyone I care about. How low do they need to bring one twentysomething former farm girl who has never done a fucking thing to them in their life?

Was there another portion of my life that I blocked out, where I committed the horrible acts that earned this karma?

“Help me understand this,” I cried, clutching the arrowhead. “Why us, Rainey? Why couldn’t we have a happy ending?”

Buzz. Buzz.

“Ugh! Leave me alone!” Snatching up my phone, I swung back to lob it at the wall.

“Ivy? Ivy, are you there?” Paris’s voice poured out of the speakers. “Ivy, whatever you’re doing, drop it and turn on Dante’s show.”

I halted.

“You won’t believe what he’s saying. I mean, it can’t be true, right? No one would confess to...”

I dropped the phone, flipping over to get my laptop. Quickly I pulled up his website, hitting play on the live stream.

“—corrupted its history. The Men of Honor were formed to protect this town from the people who would exploit it then, and the man who is exploiting it now. We—Jackson Hyde, Thea Wood, Everett Cooper, and I, Lincoln Roberts—are not your enemies.

“We’re not here to run through the town, snatching up virgins, and terrorizing the innocent. We are here to make the hard choices to protect Bedlam.”

My eyes widened with every word. I put the phone back to my ear. “Paris,” I said, breaking into her chatter. “What has he been saying?”

“He’s been admitting to all kinds of crazy things! He said that Jeremy Ellis hired Zoey Mariner to kill the Bedlam Boys in payback, so he killed her and dumped her body off Chaney Bridge.”

My jaw went slack.

“After that, he tried to force my brother and his friends into getting rid of the Ellises by having Davidson abduct and hold him hostage! But Davidson turned on him and arrested the Bedlam Boys on a false charge. He thought he could force him to kill Jack by making my brother and his friends useless to him, and therefore making Jack a liability.

“Why is he saying these things?” she burst out. “I’ve known Lincoln for forever. What is wrong with him? Could he really have done this? And if he did, why is he confessing to the entire town!”

My jaw worked trying to find an explanation for Paris, but even though I knew, I didn’t have one.

“It’s alright if you don’t believe me now, because I will subject myself to any form of test you ask of me. We all will.”

He’s not really doing this. Confessing to crime after crime just because I told him to. This was beyond proving loyalty. All four of them would lose everything to get me to... to what? What did this guy think would happen now?

“—Ellis is corrupt,” Dante continued. “The last business he invested in, AgriProspects, wasn’t seeing good enough returns. The piece of shit embezzled from the pension fund, then swam clear before the ship went down, doing nothing as hundreds of employees lost everything.

“You’re asking yourself if the things we’ve done are evil, wrong, or unjustified. What you should be asking is what a man like Steven Ellis is doing here? A shady, corrupt, money-hungry robot in a skinsuit isn’t tearing our town down for our benefit. You should wonder what he really wants from us, and what we can afford to lose when he inevitably bails out, and leaves us alone in the sinking wreckage of Bedlam.”

The broadcast cut off, making me jerk.

“What do you think he means?” Paris whispered. “I mean, yeah, Steven Ellis is another developer determined to take advantage of Bedlam’s untouched beauty, but the guy is talking like there’s something more sinister about it. He tried to force my brother to kill him. Who in their right mind goes that far to stop development?”

“Someone very determined,” I replied, gazing down at the arrowhead, “and even more dangerous.”

“Is Cairo in danger? Are they all in danger? Dammit, Ivy, they’re sitting ducks in those houses.”

“No one is messing with the Bedlam Boys.” I twirled the piece of carbon, thoughts rushing, swirling, twisting, then aligning themselves in the right order. The right plan. “They keep trying and it never works out for them.”

“You’re right, of course,” she breathed. “The cops are going to find Lincoln and all his psycho friends. Fuck’s sake, the guy saves my brother’s life, then tortures his dad and tries to turn him into a murderer. What happens to a person that they become that messed up?”

“They lose everything that matters,” I rasped, knuckles whitening around the arrow. “So the whole world pays for it.”

“Well, he’s sick.” Paris continued on unaware of what was happening on the other end of the phone.

I clicked on the site’s email icon and typed out my message, under my own name.

“Whatever he lost, he doesn’t get a free pass to hurt people. He for fuck sure doesn’t get to mess with my family.”

I hit send, then pushed my laptop away. The chime came as I prepared to close the top.

I opened Dante’s message—returned with frightening speed. He knew I’d come to him. He was waiting.

“You’re right, Paris. He doesn’t get a free pass to hurt people.” Steven Ellis floated before my vision. “He doesn’t get to mess with my family.”

The answer is yes. We will do whatever you desire.

-Dante

“He’ll pay for what he’s done.”