“Just to make this situation move faster rather than slower, if you’re wondering if the Terror clubhouse is a place where little birds can’t see, you’d be wrong. Birds have a way of looking through all windows. Even ones that belong to the Terror. Hiding there brings vultures to your doorstep. Your home—it’s like hanging out with songbirds.”
Dear God, I’m not safe anywhere.
“Think about it, Violet.” He uncrosses his arms and uses my name as if we’re friends. “You can bring about the peace your father always wanted between our clubs. You want out—we’ll help you get out. Help pay for college, help you find a job—whatever you need. All you have to do is keep your mouth shut to the police about this whole misunderstanding, search around the house for some numbers that really mean nothing to you and then sit back and watch your father’s lifework come to fruition. What do you say, are you in?”
My stomach cramps, and when I look down the hallway, Chevy’s nowhere to be seen. Eli is like a father to Chevy, he used to be my father’s best friend, but he’s also brought so much heartache to the club. It’s because of his past garbage that I’m standing here today. It’s because of his past garbage my dad was on the road that night.
But still, am I capable of being a traitor? “What if I’m not?”
Justin slides his hands into his pockets and his blue eyes go cold. The hairs on my arms stand on end and I rub at the bare skin as if that would grant me warmth. “Just so we’re clear, I wasn’t there last night when Fiend took you. Because if I were, I would have put a stop to it. We all have our boundaries and I don’t kidnap kids, but let’s say I heard things.
“I heard how you had an argument with your mom in your house and then left with your brother to go to the football game. Heard how you had a fight with Eli outside the game over tickets and how you wanted him and the club out of your life. Heard how your brother was with you when you broke down and how the reason Chevy probably didn’t kill one of my guys was because your brother was in the backseat of the car and you two were protecting him.”
“You heard this?” I shiver while heat flushes my cheeks. This man, he was there, and he saw and knows everything.
Justin walks closer to me and stops on his way out of the room so that our shoulders touch. “As if I was there watching, but as I said, I don’t kidnap kids. It would have been a shame if Fiend hadn’t taken you on the side of the road. Maybe waited until you were tucked safely in your bed, entered your home and took you and your mom. Would have been a shame if Fiend had known about your brother in the backseat and brought him along for the ride.”
My head ticks to the side. “Are you threatening my family?”
Justin smiles as he tries for mocked shock. “No, because I don’t do things like that.”
Then he winks. A small part of me wishes that the bullet had hit me and I was dead because then he wouldn’t be using my family as leverage over me.
“We’ll find a way to stay in touch,” he says. “After all, we know where you live.”
MY BRAIN’S FOGGED. Like I was plowed on the football field by a two-hundred-pound linebacker. Like I slammed my head on the ground and I wasn’t wearing a helmet. The world’s fuzzy and I’m having a hard time registering Skull’s words, but he’s talking and I’m trying to listen.
I’m sitting at the table now. Skull’s sitting, too. He’s been explaining that my father didn’t get along with Cyrus—the man who’s raised me as one of his own. That my father, James, joined the Terror because he didn’t feel like there was another option and he later regretted it.
Cyrus told me Dad often felt trapped by Snowflake, so he would go to Louisville and stay for long periods, but he never mentioned Dad being at odds with him, with the Terror.
Skull has a different version. That Dad had a place in Louisville, that he had a steady girlfriend in Louisville, that he hung out and worked with the Riot and they trusted him because he gave the Riot information on the Terror.
My lungs hurt like I’m drowning. If what he’s saying is true? My father was a traitor.
No. My father was no traitor. This asshole is messing with me. “My father was loyal to the Terror.”
“No, he wasn’t.” Skull has the nerve to look at me like he’s sorry to be breaking the news.
“There’s holes in your story. Dad didn’t do steady with women. Even I know that.” From the club and from my mom. A rare moment of information verified on both fronts.
“He didn’t, but the woman he had in Louisville he cared for. Called her a friend, let her live with him after she had run away from home. I can give you her name if you want. Meet her. She’ll confirm everything I’m telling you. In fact, I hope you do. There’s things about her you need to know. Things, as a man who values family, that I think you need to know.”
Probably because he paid her to tell me what he wants me to believe. “You’re full of shit.”
“If I were in your shoes, I’d think the same thing, but it doesn’t change the truth. That Louisville detective figured it out recently. Won’t be long until he’s going to try to use that information against the Terror...and against you.”
I slouch in the seat. “The Terror’s legit and anything my father did or didn’t do doesn’t affect me.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Way I look at it, how well do you know your club? What is it that the Terror are hiding that the son of the president traded sides? Other question to ask yourself is how the other members of Terror are going to treat you once they find out your old man was a traitor. Are they going to be wondering how far off the tree that apple falls?”
Footsteps down the hallway and the man with the scar emerges. Violet limps in behind him. I stand so quickly that the legs of the chair bounce against the floor. She glances over at me and the lost expression on her face is worse than any punch.
Nausea twists my gut. She was alone with him and I fell for it. Skull waved his right hand in order for me to lose focus on his left. “You okay?”
She nods.
“Did he hurt you?”
Violet shakes her head and it bothers me she’s gone mute.
I set my sights on Skull and make it perfectly clear we’re done talking. “Call Eli now, get us home or I swear to God I’ll make each of you bleed before you get a chance to put a bullet in my brain.”
Skull laughs like I told a joke, but stands, pulls his cell out of his pocket and slides it to me. “Once you get ahold of Eli and tell him you’re okay, give the phone to me and I’ll tell him where to pick the two of you up.”
I’M BLINDFOLDED AGAIN and I’m handcuffed. The car is different, but my placement in the backseat isn’t. This time it was Chevy who placed the cuff on my wrist, then folded the bandana over my eyes. He did both with such care, touching me like I was on the verge of shattering, looking at me with such tender eyes that I wanted to weep.
The blindfold was a “request” from Skull, but the one wrist handcuffed was Chevy’s idea. He didn’t trust them to blindfold us and keep us together. I still don’t trust that they’re taking us to Eli, that they’re taking us home.
Before Chevy did either, he whispered, “Do you trust me?”
Of course I did. Trusted him to be the first boy to hold my hand. Trusted him to be the first boy I kissed. Trusted him to be the first for so many things. Did I trust him with my life? I held out my wrist, then