The warehouse. Rika.

I had her in my arms. Finally. Why did I fuck it up?

But then I hear Kai’s ragged breath, and I look up to see him staring wide-eyed at his phone.

“Michael,” he says, looking scared. “Get your fuckin’ phone out, man.”

I reach over to my hoodie that I tore off last night and dig into the pocket, pulling out my cell. Swiping the screen, I see a list of notifications, messages, and tweets a mile long.

What the hell? My heart starts pounding, and I start clicking, catching words like ‘cop’, ‘statutory rape’, and ‘Horsemen’.

What?

My mouth goes dry as I see images of Kai, Will, and Damon, and I don’t know what the fuck is happening. Why are these pictures online?

“The phone,” Kai breathes out, looking up at me like the wind had been knocked out of him.

I click on the videos, my stomach dropping when I see Kai and Will with the cop, him hanging on by a thread as they hit him again and again. When I get to Damon’s video, the girl’s face is as clear as day, and I scan the comments, seeing words like ‘rapist’ and ‘jail’, as well as other girls claiming he’d done the same thing to them.

It’s everywhere. Facebook, YouTube, Twitter…there’s even a news article going on about us as if we’re a gang. A fucking gang?

“What the fuck happened?” I yell. “How did this shit get online?”

“I don’t know!” Kai bursts out, breathing a mile a minute. “Will…”

We both think the same thing. He has the phone, but he wouldn’t do this! To us or himself.

Ignoring my notifications, I dial him to see where the phone is. He doesn’t answer, but when I glance back at my screen, I see missed texts from Damon.

We’re so fucked! The first one says.

And then another one a few minutes later. Rika has the phone! She had Will’s sweatshirt last night!

I shake my head, meeting Kai’s eyes, knowing he got the same texts. No. She wouldn’t do that. She would never hurt me.

Throwing down my phone, I charge out of the room, hearing loud knocks on the front door as I rush through the house.

Excited voices fill the downstairs, and I feel like the walls are getting closer and closer, and I can’t turn anywhere.

Coming up outside the kitchen, I stop, hearing Trevor’s voice.

“So those are the guys you want to be around?” he snarls. “Rapists and criminals?”

I know he’s talking to Rika, but I don’t hear her say anything. The vein in my neck throbs, and I hear feet storming though the house. I don’t have to look to know it’s the cops. They might be looking for me, but they are definitely looking for Kai.

“Michael’s nothing, and if you want to be around him so much, you’ll end up just like his friends,” Trevor goes on.

“I have no interest in being around him,” Rika replies, a bite to her voice. “And his friends got what they deserved.”

My lungs empty, and I step into the doorway, glaring at her back. Trevor looks up at me, and Rika spins around, hurt and sorrow in her blood-shot eyes. She can barely look at me.

And then my gaze drops to her hand, spotting Will’s black hoodie with the tear in the sleeve from the fight with Miles last night.

Clenching my teeth so hard my jaw aches, I back away, holding her eyes. Kai is shouting down the hall, the cops having found him, no doubt, and I stare at her, rage wrapping around every inch of my body like steel armor.

This is my fault.

I’ll never be able to make this right.

They’ll suffer, because I trusted her.

Opening my eyes, I threw the sheets off, sweat covering my chest and neck.

The memory of that day was like a sickness I couldn’t shake. Seeing Kai in handcuffs, my friends splashed all over the local news, and knowing that none of it would’ve happened if I hadn’t brought her with us the night before.

That Sunday, they would’ve gone back to school and carried on, building their lives and looking forward to the next time we could all wreak a little havoc together. Nothing would’ve ended.

If only I hadn’t brought her with us.

I turned my head, seeing her fast asleep next to me, and my arms hummed with the need to hold her. Her lashes were dark against her alabaster skin, and there was the smallest little space between her lips as she breathed in and out calmly.

Shifting onto my side and propping myself up on my elbow, I ran a light hand down her face, tracing the scar on her neck, and continuing down her body.

I leaned in and kissed her hair, breathing her in.

Nothing was her fault.

She was one of us—she was ours—and not only did I have a mountain of shit to do to make this right, but I almost feared that nothing would be enough. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted from her, but I knew I didn’t want to lose her.

And she’d grown very good at having a mind of her own.

Leaving her to sleep, I showered and dressed in black pants and a white dress shirt, knowing I’d have to take care of some business today.

The house was a disaster and since my parents were out of town, our housekeepers and cook were on vacation as well. I called in a temp crew, and by the time I got everyone left over from the party the hell out of my house, the workers were already there, getting started on the main rooms first, as well as cooking breakfast.

I called the facility where Rika’s mother was and informed them that Christiane Fane’s daughter would be in contact with her mother, and then I called a lawyer—not the family lawyer, someone that wasn’t paid by my father—to discuss Rika’s estate. I knew she didn’t trust me with it—why should she?—but I didn’t want it reverting back to my father, either. We’d have to try to contest the will.