I look behind me, over my shoulder, back to the way we came. This is what I’ve heard my entire life...what I’ve been told over and over again. And this girl—Violet—she was raised with them, she knows what no one else knows, has seen what no one else has seen, and she’s telling me to run.

There’s a crackling of leaves and my head snaps back in Violet’s direction. A woman with dark hair appears. She’s older than me but younger than my mother and she eyes me and Violet warily. “What’s going on, Violet?”

“This is Rebecca,” Violet says to me as she studies the new woman. “I texted her for help. This is Breanna.”

Rebecca inclines her head as if she understands why my name should mean something. “How did you know?”

It’s a question to Violet and Violet’s response is a shrug. “I’ll wait here for her. Breanna mentioned she has to be home by four thirty, so the two of you might want to get moving.”

“Club’s on lockdown. Neither of you would be permitted near the property.”

“Then I suggest you don’t get caught.” Violet crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ll take her home now if you want, and that will prove what I’ve always known—that the women involved in this club are puppets.”

Rebecca straightens and lifts her chin. “Your father raised you better than to disrespect your family.”

Violet and Rebecca enter a staring contest that feels more like a duel with pistols. Violet severs eye contact first. “Either take her or don’t. I did this for him, not for any of you.”

Rebecca cups a hand to the back of her neck and surveys me. “You aren’t what I thought he would have picked, and in case you’re wondering, that’s a good thing...for him maybe, but not for you. Let’s go. You need to be quiet and do exactly what I say as I say it, do you understand?”

I take another step back as a cold sensation floods my limbs. “Maybe I should go home.”

“I agree,” says Rebecca, “you should, but you won’t. Your name was the first off his lips when I was convinced he was going to die. Women don’t walk away from that type of commitment easily. I’ll guarantee your safety if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m married to a board member, so I wield some influence. We need to get moving as we’re both wasting time.”

My hand drops to my stomach. “Did you say you thought he was going to die?”

Rebecca stretches her arm toward me and wiggles her fingers, encouraging me to lay my palm over hers. “Let’s go see him.”

RAZOR

“YOU MOVE LIKE an old man.” Chevy sits on the dresser and shuffles cards. He cuts the deck, then fans them in his hand as if that shit is easy to do. “You act like you were shot or something. Then you let your bike slide out from underneath you—that’s sad.”

“Fuck you.” The entire right side of my body is bruised from the fall on the bike. I’m sore, but I’m living. The doctor the club brought in told them I’d get tired fast, but I’m on my feet and haven’t collapsed yet.

“How was school?” I dig, and Chevy raises an eyebrow. In eighteen years, I’ve never asked that question. In fact, I rarely ask anything. My cell busted in the fall and I haven’t been able to contact Breanna. I’m not curious about school as much as I need to hear Breanna’s okay.

“Good,” he answers. “Boring.”

I glare at him and the end of his lips tilt up. “I’m assuming you’re referring to a girl with black hair, real smart, and has a habit of glancing in your direction from across the room. Same girl you can’t take your eyes off whenever she’s around.”

Yeah. That would be the one.

The humor flees from his face. “It was one thing when you were infatuated with her, but she’s been watching you as much as you’ve been watching her. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I don’t see options for how this game you’re playing ends well.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s not from our world. Breanna’s not the girl looking for a quick ride. She’s the girl who wants flowers before the sit-down dinner. She belongs to the family that has probably printed up just-say-no-to-the-Terror pamphlets.”

She’s a good girl, I’m all that’s bad and Chevy’s convinced I’m capable of destroying anything good. “Oz and Emily are working.”

“They’re different,” he states. They are. Oz is badass, but he’s never been feared like me, and Emily is a good girl, but she’s Reign of Terror blood.

“And if you want to know, I’ve seen Kyle Hewitt talking to Breanna in hallways and stairwells. She might be looking at you, but it’s him she’s being seen with in public.”

A dangerous anger curls within me. “She was what?” Breanna’s kept that tidbit private.

“Go do your thing.” Chevy’s eyes flicker to the bathroom, halting the conversation. I’m taking my first shower since the accident and Rebecca’s bent on someone being near in case I pass out.

I crack my neck to the side. Breanna and I, we need to talk. “Where’s my new phone?”

“Shower, then food, then phone.”

Showering had been the priority, but calling Breanna stole first place. Knowing that I’m seven degrees of angry, Chevy wouldn’t give me the phone even if I whipped out my knife, and to be honest, a shower might make me feel human again. “I don’t need a babysitter.”