Every Last Breath. Jennifer L. Armentrout

had indeed made an anonymous call. “The police came by this afternoon. Mom thought it was about the house fire, but it was...it was about Sam.”

      Sitting in the living room, curled up against the back of an oversize cushion, I closed my eyes. “His family...”

      “I know.” Her breath was shaky through the connection. “They told me. They also asked if I’d seen him. I went with the last time he’d been at school. Yesterday.”

      “That was smart.”

      A pause, and then, “God, Layla, how did any of this happen? Two months ago, I would’ve never seen any of this coming— Hold on,” she said, and I heard a door closing. “My mom has been following me around ever since the police showed up. She’s worried and scared. The police think that Sam...that he snapped and wiped out his family. It’s going to be all over school tomorrow, and it’s not right. You know? That people are going to believe that Sam did something like that.”

      “It isn’t,” I agreed, opening my eyes. There was a painting hung on the wall across from me. A picturesque road with autumn on full display, but the bright oranges and reds were dulled. “Sam didn’t deserve any of this.”

      “None of us do.” There was another deep inhale on her end. “Okay. I need to be distracted, because otherwise I’m going to lose it again. I’ve been losing it about every hour, on the hour. Okay? Distract me.”

      “Um...” My brain emptied. Real helpful there. “Ah, I suck at this.”

      She laughed hoarsely. “What’s Roth doing?”

      “Well, he’s... Yeah, he’s kind of incapacitated right now.” I cringed, knowing how that sounded.

      “Really?” Interest perked her tone. “Why?”

      I glanced at the wide archway. “I told him this morning that I needed to talk to Zayne, and I guess he thought that meant that I was going to tell Zayne I wanted to be with him. So he might have gotten a little drunk.”