My feet hit the ground again, my back and head rammed into a tree and flat eyes bore into mine. “Scream and I’ll have one of my guys in the woods put a fucking bullet in one of your friends’ heads. We lost you and Chevy yesterday after the game and now those of us who have been watching you are in trouble.”

Us. There’s more than one person stalking me.

His hand goes to my neck. It’s not tight, but it’s definitely a warning. “We’ve heard rumors your car was seen in the south side of Louisville today. Why would you have been there?”

My eyes flicker over his face. I don’t know this man. I don’t recognize him from the kidnapping. He shoves me again, into the tree, and a sound of pain leaves my throat. “Why were you in Louisville?”

“Violet?” Chevy calls, and there’s still happiness in his voice. “Where are you?”

“We weren’t in Louisville,” I say. “We drove around waiting for the party.”

“Liar,” he spits.

“Violet!” Chevy yells out, and his tone has changed. There’s concern, there’s anxiety and soon Razor and Oz join him in calling for me.

“Do you have the account numbers?”

My body shakes, but I force myself to keep eye contact. “Yes.”

“Sneak out tonight,” he says. “I’ll meet you outside your house and you give them to me.”

“I’m only giving them to Justin and Skull. They started this. They’re the only ones I trust.”

He leans into me and I turn my head because I don’t want his face so close to mine. “This is not a negotiation.”

The Riot believe they have all the power, but I’m the one holding the cards. “I’ll meet them tomorrow night at the place where we were kidnapped. I give the numbers to them and nobody else. You want Eli, I want peace. Tell me, how happy do you think Justin is going to be when he finds out you’ve shoved me against a tree. According to him, this isn’t how our clubs are playing anymore, or is he reneging on our deal?”

As if my words were acid, his grip on me weakens, and as he goes to step back, there is a snapping of a twig to the right. It’s Razor and he pauses long enough to blink and then he’s a freight train.

“Duck,” the guy says. “They’re going to shoot.”

Shoot. My heart stutters. “Get down! Razor, get down!”

The guy runs, Razor is barreling toward us, his hand going to the gun he keeps at his back and his eyes widen when I throw myself at him. A bang, Razor collides with me and we’re rolling until we stop. His body over mine, gun in his hand, a hand over my head as if he could keep me safe.

“Violet!” Chevy yells.

“Are you okay?” Razor asks.

I press at his chest, but he’s solid rock. “Yes, let me up.”

“Not until I know you’re safe.”

I punch at his chest. “They aren’t going to shoot me. You, yes. Me, no.”

Razor leans up on his knees and draws me up with him. I try to ignore the gun in his right hand and how my hands shake. Oz slides on the leaves in front of us as he tries to stop. He’s also holding his gun, but with both hands. “Which way?”

“The guy who had Violet by the throat ran to the right. Shot came high and from the left. That bullet was meant to keep us in place so they could escape.”

“Violet, why the hell do you keep running in the direction of bullets?” Chevy’s voice curls into a dangerous tone I never wanted to hear again and his form appears out of the darkness. It’s eerie how he goes from shadow to being in the moonlight.

“Because I don’t want the people I love to get shot. That’s why. What else do you expect me to do? Let you get shot?”

“Yes!” all three of them shout.

Idiots. Every single one of them.

“I need to go home.” I’m pleading with Chevy to rein in his temper and get us out of this situation without alerting the Terror we have problems. “Just take me home.”

“Take you home?” Oz’s expression says he’s about ready to turn the gun on me or himself at the idea of how insane I sound. “Someone just shot at you.”

“At me.” Razor’s extremely calm and that causes my head to tilt. “They were shooting at me. For the same fucking reason they shot at me before.”

Chevy swears under his breath and Oz is the only one scanning the trees, scanning the horizon. “What the hell is going on?”

Chevy and I share a look. Razor’s gone internal again. We had a few minutes of happiness, but our weights returned, crushing us.

“What the hell is going on?” Oz yells this time.

Nothing from any of us. I know what’s trapping me and Chevy, but I have no idea what’s bogging down Razor. Before the kidnapping, he had reached out to me, helped me with a problem with guys from school. Now he’s drowning and I’m doing nothing but watching him sink from the shore.

But that has to be how he feels about me and Chevy. He asked me to come to him the night I stayed at Chevy’s. I think of the pain in Oz’s eyes and the pain that’s still etched on his face as he waits for one of us to crack.

“We’re a family, dammit,” Oz says. “When are we going to start acting like one?”

“Now,” I whisper, and I flash two fingers before standing. From the way Oz’s head straightens and the narrowed way Razor’s studying me, they both caught it. “I don’t feel good and I don’t think I can ride on the back of a bike.”