Heavy rain beats the sleek, blue electric car in a deserted alleyway. Car windows are fogged.

An overhang on the side-exit keeps us dry, and Farrow catches my arm before we run into the midnight storm with Charlie.

My cousin already disappears into the front passenger side.

“Half of Omega is waiting in security’s Range Rover in case Ben drives off,” Farrow explains as he quickly fits in his earpiece and hooks a radio to his belt.

“They really let you back on duty?” I ask, and we step into the rain together, our boots meeting the slick road.

Farrow jogs around to the other door. “I’m the best at what I do, wolf scout. Everyone needs me. Case in point.” He puts a hand on the car’s wet roof.

I clutch the door handle. He’s right, but there’s a difference between security and me. “I don’t just need you though.”

I want you.

I want you.

God, I want you.

I express the carnal words in my eyes, and his chest elevates, seeing every loving want written on me.

“Damn,” he mutters, rain dripping down his temples and off his jaw.

Damn.

I inhale strongly. Yeah, that’s about right.

It’s a good start to a doomsday. Because I’m not always that smooth, and something needs to go right before everything goes fucking wrong.

We both slip into the rear doors at nearly the same time. Shutting out the rain. I brush water out of my soaked hair.

Winona rotates to me in the middle seat, her face delicate and feminine compared to her older sister’s strong squared jaw. Her hair, lightened to dishwater-blonde from the sun, falls on a man’s button-down that’s knotted at the waistband of her cargo pants.

Her hazel-flecked eyes bore into me with so much emotion that it tries to knock me backwards.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“No, I’m not okay,” she says powerfully, her eyes glassing and chin threatening to tremble.

“We’re going to help, alright?” I hug Nona, and she grips my shoulders.

I rub her back, and I flip a figurative switch. Trying not to feel the hurt that she feels. My eyes rise to Farrow.

He studies my stone face, and he mouths, I’m here for you.

I nod. I know, but I’m not sure how to be everything they need without shutting off emotion. What Farrow called a survival instinct.

When my family breaks down, I fortify.

“Nona, don’t cry,” Ben says in a whisper, turning around from the driver’s seat. “Because then I’ll start crying again and we’re not going to move past the waterworks stage of this crisis.”

You know Ben Pirrip Cobalt as the sixteen-year-old savvy environmentalist who makes friends easier than all of my family combined. He’ll even be your friend. He’s probably already followed you back on Twitter or Instagram, and he’s liked your pictures ten or twenty times. You think he’s one of the coolest Cobalt boys—with his accessibility, his windswept brown hair, baby blue eyes, and pretty boy charm—and you wouldn’t be wrong.

I know him as Ben, sometimes Pippy, the youngest and most free-spirited Cobalt boy and my little cousin. A guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, who hurts over sad, broken things, and I know he wishes more people paid attention to important causes than the beauty mark on his cheek.

Fair Warning: I will hold you beneath a frozen lake and drown you if you fuck with him.

“You smell foul,” Charlie says to his brother. Ben does stink like locker room B.O., but Winona has to be used to the stench. If it bothers Farrow, he doesn’t let on.

Ben scratches his hair. String-braided bracelets (made by Winona) fall down his wrist. “I’m doing a water-only wash period. I’m on week four.”

“It’s not working,” Charlie tells him and scoots his seat back on me—

“Charlie,” I growl, the seat crushing my knees. Nona sits back up and rubs her cheek with the heel of her palm. She opens a box of salted crackers.

Charlie is ignoring me. In case you were all wondering.

“Are you cool?” Ben is asking Farrow, and at the same time, Winona crosses her legs on the seat. Giving me room to shift mine in her space.

“Thanks,” I tell my cousin.

She offers me a cracker, and I pass since they taste like salted tree bark. And she offers Farrow one, which he accepts.

“I won’t nark if that’s what you’re asking,” Farrow says and pops the cracker in his mouth. He chews slowly, his face scrunching, and I almost start laughing.

“Cool,” Ben nods.

Farrow coughs in his fist, then unpockets a pack of gum. “Your cousin already likes me better than he likes you, wolf scout.”

I give him a middle finger, and his mouth curves upward. I tell Farrow, “Ben likes everyone. It’s not that big of an accomplishment.”

Ben flips on his windshield wipers. “I definitely do not like someone.”

“Who?” Farrow and I say while Charlie mutters, “This is new.”

Ben checks his rearview mirror. “I also don’t like idling in a dead-end…you all mind if I drive out?”

I think he’s worried about being trapped in an alleyway if paparazzi find us. But like Farrow said, Omega is in a Range Rover nearby, probably watching for incoming vehicles. They’d alert Farrow before we’d get blocked in.

“Vas-y,” Charlie says. Go ahead.

Ben reverses his car.

I extend my arm across the back of the backseat in a death-clutch. Jesus, I hate riding backseat. In any car, with any driver. I wish being a passenger on a tour bus could’ve cured me of this, but I’m just not that lucky.

Farrow clicks his mic on his collar. “Omega to Farrow, we’re heading out.” He rests his elbow near my hand, then lays his arm on top of mine, his thumb stroking my bicep.

It takes me back to my car, that moment when we decided to be a couple, in a relationship. Where we had our first kiss.

I wonder if he’s thinking about that too, or if I’m just sentimental because this is my first relationship, first love, and that was the most meaningful first kiss I’ve ever had in my life.

Ben switches the automatic gear to drive once he reaches the main road, and then he aims for an on-ramp to the highway.

“The Range Rover behind you is Omega,” Farrow tells him.

“Thanks,” Ben says and fixes his side mirrors with a button. Rain pours harder and pings on the roof.

I really want to know why they’re both upset. “Who do you not like?” I ask. “Did they do something?”

Winona munches on a handful of crackers.

I give her a look.

“I’m a nervous eater,” she mumbles, crumbs everywhere. “And you’re not going to like what we have to tell you.”

Ben merges onto the highway. “It’s your brother.”

Xander.

“What?” Charlie and I say in unison. My face contorts in confusion, and my pulse thumps in my ears.

“I did something,” Ben mutters, guilt in his voice. My muscles bind. He’s the kind of person who’d blame himself for accidentally stepping on an anthill. So it’s hard to gauge the seriousness.

Ben flicks his blinker but struggles to switch lanes and concentrate on this conversation.

I look out the rear windshield. “You can go, Ben.”

He tentatively scoots the car to the left lane and then accelerates to about seventy-five, the traffic sparse at midnight. His finger keeps tapping the wheel.

“I don’t understand,” I say to Ben. “I know you and my brother had a falling out, but I thought you still liked him.”

“Something’s changed,” Ben replies. “But it’s my fault. It’s really all my fault.” I don’t know what to take from that.

Suddenly, Farrow drops his arm from me to press his earpiece, trying to listen. The rain slams down, and I check over my shoulder. A few incoming cars surround us when they have the whole highway.

Farrow almost rolls his eyes before swiveling the knob on his radio.

I whisper, “What’s happening?”

“Three SUVs,” he whispers back, Winona between us who can probably hear. “Akara is yelling at Quinn to relax. He’s getting amped.”

Winona shakes cracker crumbs into her palm. “I still like Xander.”

Alright… “Someone explain this, please,” I say.

Ben takes a tight breath. “You all remember how I used to bring Xander to the school’s hockey games, sometimes soccer?”

That seems like forever ago. Ben Cobalt is a social butterfly the exact opposite of my brother, but they somehow got along. To be in Xander’s life, you have to wedge yourself in there, and Ben always snuck in.

Up until about a year ago.

Their “falling out” happened.

“You said you two grew apart,” I remember. It made sense. They were getting older, but Ben was one of the only people who could get Xander out of the house. And my brother has been more recluse since he lost Ben as a friend, but I never thought Ben actually disliked Xander. They just don’t talk that much anymore.

“That’s not really why,” Ben says. “I mean, we did grow apart, but…” He tries to increase his windshield wiper speed. “I stopped bringing Xander to school events after something happened.”

Something happened.

And my brother didn’t tell me. And I wasn’t there for him. Guilt tries to roil inside me, because if he was hurt or in some kind of worse pain…

Charlie hooks his sunglasses on his shirt. “That’s not vague at all.”

Ben side-eyes him before switching lanes to bypass an SUV. “Sorry I’m not using excessive adjectives and nouns to your liking.” He looks back at Farrow through the rearview mirror. “If you don’t know by now, Charlie thinks I’m dangerously naïve to the point of stupidity, and he wastes no opportunity to remind me.”

Farrow pops another bubble in his mouth. “Cobalts are something else.”

Ben glances quickly at Charlie. “Now that’s vague.”

Charlie pulls at his hair. “I wouldn’t expect anything more from someone who believes Maximoff is boyfriend material.”

Ouch.

Gotta give it to Charlie, he knows my insecurities.

“Jealous that he’s in a relationship?” Farrow asks easily while lifting his boot to the seat and balancing his arm on his knee. His confidence is radiating.

Charlie glares back at Farrow with a look that says you’re wrong.

Farrow combats him with a harder stare that says I’m right.

I wish Janie were here to help us stay on track. “What happened?” I ask Ben and Winona. “Did Xander get hurt?”

“Not exactly,” Winona says, brushing crumbs off her lap.

“I was friends with these guys at school,” Ben clarifies as he accelerates.

“Ben is friends with everyone,” Winona rephrases.

“Yeah, but when I brought Xander along, I always introduced him to these people that I thought he’d like…Is that a pap?”

“On your right,” Farrow confirms as three SUVs line up to obstruct Ben from taking an exit.

“Speed up,” I suggest. Since that’s the only way he can pass the cars and get off the highway.

Ben scoots forward, his visibility terrible as rain pelts the windshield. “It’s basically hailing. I can’t speed up.”

“It’s not hailing,” Farrow says matter-of-factly. “You’re fine. Stay in this lane until you feel comfortable.”

Farrow backseat driving is infuriatingly sexy.

Anyway, we have no destination, but my phone keeps vibrating in my pocket. Uncle Ryke and Aunt Daisy, Winona’s parents, are concerned since she’s past her curfew. When it hits 1:00 a.m., I expect the same onslaught of messages from Uncle Connor and Aunt Rose about Ben.

Once Ben leans back slightly, less edged, I ask, “So Xander met some guys through you at these soccer and hockey games?”

“Yeah,” Ben nods. “And I thought it’d be good for him. I didn’t think…I mean, I couldn’t have known…”

Winona drops her head, upset.

Ben scratches at his hair. “People at school knew that Xander is on antidepressants—rumors about that are all over the internet.”

I tense.

“Why is security’s car changing lanes?” Ben asks, almost panicked.

“Security is playing defense with the other vehicles,” Farrow explains. “SFO is stopping some cars from reaching yours. Don’t worry about them. Oscar is a good driver.”

“Okay…” Ben adjusts his grip on the wheel. “At the games, students asked Xander if they could have some pills, and Xander actually started giving them his meds—and I should’ve looked out for your brother, Moffy. It’s my fault.” Ben talks fast, the words rushing out of him all of a sudden. “He’s susceptible to peer pressure, and he didn’t ask for money or anything in return. He just wanted to be liked by these dudes.”

My heart is in my throat. He was only fourteen. “That’s why you had a falling out?” I realize.

“Yeah.” Ben flicks his blinker but decides not to switch lanes. He tries to ease back. “I figured if I stopped inviting Xander out with me, he couldn’t give anyone his pills. Since he’s homeschooled, it made it easier…” He wafts his Save the Planet shirt from his chest. “After a while, we stopped talking, and he just…”

Retreated.

My brother retreated and barely leaves the house.

I rub my jaw, my muscles searing. “Who knows about the pills?” I ask and eye Farrow who touches his earpiece. He checks over his shoulder, on the lookout for paparazzi traffic that steadily amasses.

Ben lowers the volume of his stereo as Charlie turns the radio on. “Some kids at school, me, Xander, and Nona know,” Ben says. “And now you three.”

Winona twists her otter pendant necklace. “Moffy,” she says to me. “We thought he stopped.”

My stomach caves.

“A kid in the neighborhood started texting me about it,” Ben finishes. “This morning.” He extends his arm backwards to pass me his phone, and the one gesture causes Charlie to stare out the window. He must feel like Ben just chose me over him.

My ribs shrink my lungs.

I could hand the phone back to Charlie, but with my little brother at the centerfold of this, I have an aching need to be in control.

So I do the shitty thing and keep the phone. I already know Ben’s passcode: the date his pet bird Pip-Squeak died. And then I open the most recent message from the neighborhood kid—

Farrow drops his foot to the floor. His nonchalance suddenly depletes.

When that happens, I feel like someone needs to hoist the Bat Signal in the air and call for the Avengers to Assemble.

“Farrow?” I whisper, catching his gaze. I lean back while Winona bends towards the middle console to speak to Ben in Spanish.

Farrow leans back with me, and he whispers, “Eight more cars, four are SUVs, and they most likely have cameras. Oscar can’t block them all. Ben’s about to get bombarded unless he can speed up and make an exit.”

I move into damage control mode. I pull Winona back so she’s not bent forward. “Buckle, Nona.”

“I already am.”

But it’s too loosened, and I don’t need to ask. Farrow already pulls the strap to her belt, tightening her in.

I snap my belt off and slide to the seat’s edge. Just so I can speak more directly to Ben. Farrow is glaring at me for unbuckling, but I’ll be quick.

“Go faster,” I tell Ben.

His eyes flit to me. “Did you read the text?”

“Not yet. Accelerate, Ben. You can pass the Kia on your right.”

Ben presses the gas, but lets off as rain slams harder. “I can’t, Moffy.”

Charlie rubs the fog off his window. “You should pull over. I’ll drive.”

I can’t even offer since I still don’t have my license back. Not that they’d feel that safe since I have a speeding problem, but I’ve never wrecked.

“Pull over where?” Ben shifts forward, his chest rising and falling quickly.

“The emergency lane,” Charlie says.

“I can’t see it.”

“Maximoff,” Farrow says through clenched teeth. Winona fists my shirt to pull me back. I end up sliding backwards on my own, and I pull my seatbelt across my chest and snap in.

I glance at Farrow.

He looks like he wants to kiss me and kill me. “Don’t do that again.”

“Bodyguard orders?” I ask.

“Boyfriend rules since you love following them so much…” he trails off, checking the traffic through the rear windshield. “Shit.”

I see what he sees. “Ben,” I say, “switch to the left lane.” We’re in a middle lane, and a truck on the driver’s side is gaining speed.

Ben flicks on his blinker. His car sensors start beeping, alerting us about an approaching vehicle. “I can’t get over.”

He’s sixteen and just got his license in March. All I want is to take the fucking wheel.

Ben tries to accelerate again. “Moffy, you should read the text out loud.”

I hesitate.

Not sure if this is a good distraction from paparazzi or a bad one. But I end up looking down at the phone in my hand.

And I read, “Colin texted, heads up, dude, Easton Mulligan is getting pills from your cuz. Thought that shit stopped, but Easton’s been bragging about it. Even saw the bottle.”

I don’t know how I read that without a single inflection.

I don’t know how my heart is still beating.

My muscles burn, shoulders locked, and my impassive face carries nothing. Xander needs his meds, and he’s just giving them away so that he can make friends. Hurt claws at me, wanting to just grab him and hug him and tell him this isn’t right. Somewhere inside, I almost can’t fucking believe this. Somewhere inside, I think I’m screaming at the top of my lungs for this to reverse.

But that emotion is lost with a switch, too deep to reach.

The car is so quiet I can hear Ben’s heavy breath.

“I’ll talk to him,” I say. He can’t deal drugs. Or is it even considered dealing if he’s giving them away freely? Jesus.

“Be gentle, okay,” Ben breathes. “I can’t…I mean, Xander just…he lost his door again, right? He’s not in a good place.”

“Yeah,” I say, nothing in my voice.

Farrow studies me for a long beat, and then his tattooed fingers touch his earpiece again, his gum chewing slows down.

I pass the phone to Charlie since Ben is still concentrating on the road. “Just let me handle this,” I say and add to Winona. “Don’t tell the girl squad what’s happened.” Last thing I need is for the entire family to be in on this before I even talk to Xander.

“My babes won’t know,” Winona confirms, and by babes, she means my sister Kinney, then Audrey Cobalt and Vada Abbey. Her shoulders loosen, and she exhales in relief.

Ben gains speed but falters as the storm brews. He decelerates. “Thanks, Moffy—” A camera flashes at the driver’s window in pitch black night, jarring Ben.

He swerves right.

“Ben!” Winona yells.

“I can’t see!”

Charlie instantly grabs the wheel and straightens the car.

“Relax,” Farrow tells the teenagers, slightly turned as he watches security’s car behind us.

We’re wedged between a truck and an SUV, both windows rolled down. Cameras wrapped in plastic point at our car.

“I can’t see,” Ben mutters again. He grips the steering wheel harder.

Flashes blast in quick succession. Imagine a strobe light in your face on a freeway at seventy-five miles per hour in pouring down rain, and you just got your license three months ago.

“Slow down,” I suggest. “Just ride here. They’ll get bored and leave.”

Now Ben is pressing down on the gas. “I can try to pass one—”

We spin out the second he pushes eighty-five, no traction to the wheels on the wet road—my arm extends over Winona’s chest to protect my cousin, and I feel Farrow doing the exact same for her.

As the car revolves, there’s no time to glance left or right. No time to course correct or overthink or call out to Farrow.

There is just human life and love and pain.

My world blinks past me and the right side, my side, slams into the concrete median with a violent bang. My body wrenches forward against my seatbelt. A crack steals my breath away. Hot tears slip out of the corners of my eyes—I can’t breathe.

And then, the car flips.