Rika looked to Banks and Banks shrugged a little, apprehensive to admit that she liked her black gown with the off-the-shoulder straps and a bodice that made her breasts damn near bulge out of the top. She looked regal, though.

“It’s perfect. You did perfect,” she told Rika. “It’s totally me.”

“Good.” Rika nodded, looking around at all of us with a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Because I have an idea.”

Will

Present

I’m gonna kill her. She’d had Emmy for the last thirty-six hours. No warning. No discussion. No explanation, other than some excuse about needing one last girls’ night as a single woman.

I hadn’t talked to Em, because Rika took all their cell phones, hiding with Alex, Banks, Winter, Emory, and Ryen at Delcour since yesterday morning.

I mean, what the fuck? I just got her back, and fear was nipping at the corner of my brain, worried that she’d change her mind about marrying me if I couldn’t periodically remind her of how hot I was.

Lev and David carried in six packs, handing them out as Kai shined his shoes, and Michael fixed his hair in front of the mirror.

We all loitered in the den of St. Killian’s, the grandparents and parents shouting downstairs and trying to wrangle everyone as they piled into the limos, the sun setting outside as some old DMX played on the speaker next to me.

Micah pulled a bottle of bourbon out of Rory’s hand, downing a shot, before Damon yanked Misha back in by the collar, fixing his tie and then grabbing his head, inspecting the stripe in his hair.

“What…?” he barked. “Is this blue? Ughhh.”

Misha slapped him away, and Damon shoved him off, grabbing a beer and rolling his eyes. “Watch your back,” Damon told him.

Misha plopped down next to me, and I took a swig from my water bottle.

“You’ll see her in an hour,” he assured me.

I took another drink. “Rika could’ve warned us she was taking all the women overnight.”

“It gives you a chance to miss her.”

“I’ve missed her long enough,” I retorted, watching Michael tie his shoes and then tip back the bottle of Kirin. “I’m done missing her.”

“You think if you don’t see her enough, she’ll have time to change her mind?”

“No.”

Yes. My cousin was smart.

I smirked at him, and he smiled, finishing his own bottle of beer.

Kai walked over, grabbing another for himself, but then he halted, eyeing me. “Does this bother you?” he asked. “We don’t have to drink.”

His hand was paused on the bottle, his eyes dropping to my water.

“No.” I exhaled. “I want to be all here for her. I’m good.”

He took the bottle and uncapped it, the sweat streaming down the sides looking like bliss at one time, but not this time. Bile rose up my throat, remembering the feeling when I drank. Of time moving too fast, of waking up feeling like hell, and feeling paranoid of saying the wrong thing or facing the music the next day after I’d done something stupid.

I could do so much more with myself. I was tired of who I used to be.

But I could have a vice.

If Damon got to drink in front of me, then I got to smoke in front of him. Shooting out of the chair, I dug a pack out of Rory’s breast pocket with his lighter, and lit one up, waiting for a dirty look from Michael about smoking in his house.

But nothing. He was too busy smiling and laughing with Kai.

“That was fun last night,” Micah said.

Em had filled me in on what it took to get me out of jail, and surprise, surprise, she was right. Her involvement at the station changed things, so whoever was in charge was keeping it quiet because of her. It still unnerved me that I hadn’t heard a peep from Martin, though.

“As long as you don’t get caught, it’s a lot of fun,” I replied.

Pulling over a duffle bag I had laid on the chair, I pulled out a green Army of Two mask, as well as a black one painted with white bandages to look like a mummy. I handed them each one.

Micah eyed me, looking confused.

“For later,” I said. “It’s Devil’s Night.”

Their eyes widened, remembering what Emmy had talked about, and they exchanged a look, laughing under their breaths.

“Seems like you and your friends are the law in Thunder Bay,” Micah said.

“Just the opposite.” I took a drag. “There are no bedtimes here.”

Rory tossed his mask back on the chair. “Is anyone coming after us?

“Undoubtedly.”

Micah chuckled. “Oh, good.”

Maybe not tonight, but someone was coming.

“You guys gassed up?” Michael called out, and I looked over to see him talking to David and Lev.

The other guys nodded. “Yeah.”

Michael looked around to all of us. “Cell phones charged everyone?”

We all replied in the affirmative.

“The kids?” he asked next.

“The nannies will meet us there,” Damon answered.

Michael stood there, everything ready and all the ducks in a row, his shoulders tense.

“You ready?” I asked him.

He broke out in a smile and inhaled a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s go.”

We all jogged down the stairs, everyone laughing and chattering, our heavy footfalls reminding me of all the times we ran as a group—together and tight.

Diving out into the night air, “Let the Sparks Fly” started playing from someone’s phone, and déjà vu hit me, thinking about the last time I heard that song. Rika was sixteen, in the car with us, and it was the last good night for a long time.

Rocks kicked up under our feet, bottles in everyone’s hands as Kai tipped back his beer and we left the house behind.

“No cars?” I asked, noticing everyone just kept walking.

Michael shook his head. “I don’t need to be carted to the altar,” he announced. “I want to arrive in style with my friends. This is how it started, and this is how it continues.”

Kai grabbed his shoulder as we stepped out onto the road. “Always.”

David and Lev pulled out in two SUVs, going on ahead in case we needed transportation later, but the seven of us strolled down the black highway, the glow from the estates that we passed lighting our way.

Fires burned, the scent of wood and spice filled the air, and the Halloween decorations of every home lit up, the flickering flames inside the jack-o’-lanterns making me smile.

A howl pierced the air, and I looked over, seeing Michael holding his hands to his mouth, his roar carrying down the street and up into the trees.

“I’m marrying little Rika Fane, motherfuckers!” Michael yelled, and we all followed, belting our battle cry into the night.

“Whoo!” we all joined in.

Michael slapped my back. “Let’s go get my girl.”

Beers and bottles in hand, we strolled down the highway, spotting our neighbors loading into their cars and getting on their way, a Mercedes swerving past us as we took up most of the road.

“You’re gonna be late!” Bryce laughed, hanging out the passenger side window.