I remain fairly quiet for the rest of lunch. Like Scarlett promised, the food is delicious, but sitting around the table with the seven of them, listening to them reminisce and laugh, makes me miss my sisters big time. By the time it’s time to return to school, I’m tired and miserable and in no mood to joke around and laugh with Scarlett. Thankfully, she decides to skip out on the rest of school and help Sofie with some sort of super-secret project.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?” she asks as we cross the bar, heading for the back door. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, and Sofie is going to teach me how to ride a dirt bike.”

“That does sound awesome,” I answer truthfully. “But I’ve missed a lot of school already and I’m trying to get my shit together so …” I shrug. “Sorry.”

She struggles not to frown. “Maybe another time?”

“Oh, totally,” I promise her as I dig my car keys from my pocket. “In fact, one of these weekends, you should come over to my house and hang out with my sisters and me.” That is, if I ever get them back.

Don’t fucking lose your shit now.

“That sounds fun.” A smile illuminates her face. “You know, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have sisters instead of a bunch of brothers. It seems like it’d be a lot less smelly and loud.”

“We’re definitely less smelly for sure, but my sisters and I are loudmouths.”

“Yeah, I knew that the moment I met you.” She teasingly smiles as we reach the door. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“Yep.” I wave. Then, noting I have approximately five minutes to get back to school before the late bell rings, I rush outside to my car.

Not a whole lot of time left to get there, but if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s getting places quickly. I just hope another damn sketchy cop doesn’t pull me over on the way.

* * *

I manage to get to school without getting a ticket and I’m on time. As an extra bonus, I make it all the way through school without missing any classes. A first for me since we moved to Honeyton so, yeah, go me!

All celebrations aside, a gloomy cloud is hovering over my head as I stop by my locker to grab the books I need to complete tonight’s homework. My mind is stuck in Worrying About My Sisters Land, a cloudy and stormy place to reside. But I can’t leave—can’t stop thinking about them—until I talk to them, find out if they’re okay, and get them back home. But, where is home exactly? At the house I currently can’t go to without running into, as Mr. Porterson put it, an “entrepreneur.” Or well, that is if Axel views his job the same way as Mr. Porterson.

“Man, I need to figure out a way to get him off my back,” I mumble as I stuff a book in my bag.

“Hey, you’re Hadley Harlyton, right?” A guy almost as pretty as Blaise props his shoulder against the locker beside mine, startling the crap out of me. As I work to regain my breath, he tries to dazzle me with a charming smile. “I think we have second period together.”

My guard instantly goes.

Pretty boys always put me on edge. And this guy is beyond pretty. I bet some might even say more so than Blaise, but I wouldn’t agree with them. Where Blaise’s all dark clothes, studs, and leather with a few piercings and, according to him, tattoos—although, I’ve never seen these alleged tattoos, so I’m still skeptical they exist—this guy’s all wrinkle-free, button-down shirts, slacks, and … yep, just like I guessed, freakin’ shiny-ass shoes.

Seriously, you can never trust people with shiny shoes.

I shrug, grabbing my English textbook from the top shelf of my locker. “If you say so, then I guess I’ll take your word for it, but honestly, I have no clue who you are.”

“Ouch, that hurt.” He presses his palm to his chest, his grin broadening, a dimple in his cheek appearing. “You’re ruthless.”

“That wasn’t ruthless. That was mildly cruel.” I sling the handle of my bag over my shoulder and slam my locker, preparing to leave.

He hurriedly straightens and walks beside me as I start down the crowded hallway. “Well, ruthless or not, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?” I ask distractedly as I check my messages.

No new messages. Dammit, I was hoping Blaise would have some info about my sisters by now.

“Your name’s Hadley Harlyton, right?” His interest in my name puts me even more on edge.

“Actually, it’s Belinda.” I use the alias I gave a couple of guys I met at the trailer that Blaise and I picked Alex up from.

His eyes dance with amusement. “All right, I’ll play along. Belinda what?”

“Belinda, My Last Name is None of Your Pretty Boy Business So Please Turn Your Shiny Shoes Around And Leave Me Alone Dude.”

Instead of getting offended, he appears quite the opposite—completely entertained.

“That’s quite the last name,” he muses, rubbing his jawline. “But I think you might be lying to me, Belinda.”

I shrug as we reach the end of the hallway. “Believe whatever you want.” I start to push the door open when he folds his fingers tightly around my injured wrist. “Hey, back the hell off,” I warn, jerking my arm.

His grip constricts. “Maybe before you start smarting off, I should introduce myself.” His tone is eerily calm and emotionless. “I’m Austin Maeiriellie.”

Austin … Why does that name sound familiar?

My head throbs as I try to figure out the answer. I’m not certain where the pain is coming from, either from the potential concussion I had, lack of sleep, or the ass load of stress raining down on me.

I really need to get some sleep.

“Thanks for introducing yourself.” My voice oozes with sugary sweetness. “Now, when I punch you in the face and knock you out, I’ll have a name to give the paramedics when they show up to haul your unconscious ass to the hospital.”

His lips twist into a delighted, wicked grin. “I think you and I are going to have some fun, aren’t we?” He squeezes my wrist until my eyes water. “But I should probably tell you who my father is before you start throwing punches and make a huge mistake.” He drags out a pause as my muscles ravel into tense knots, the dots slowly connecting. “I think you might know of him. Axel Maeiriellie, the man your father double-crossed.”

“Son of a bitch,” I grumble. “That’s why your name sounded familiar.” Blaise had warned me about him earlier today. Said Austin was straight-up crazy, which I can see.

“You’ve heard of me.” An arrogantly pleased smile stretches across his face.

“Yeah, I heard you were a real nutjob.” Fuck, I really need to keep my mouth shut.

With a smirk on his face, he lowers his head and puts his lips beside my ear. “You heard correctly.”

I resist a shiver. And not the good kind of shiver.

“Awesome. I’ll make sure to remember that.”

“Oh, you’ll do more than that.” He slants back, tugging on my arm as he slams his palm against the door and tows me outside. “You’re going to learn how crazy I am during the drive to my father’s place.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I lift my leg to kick him in the shin.

“If you don’t obey, Hadley, then I’m afraid there’s going to be punishments.” As people walking across the grass around us begin to gawk, he shifts closer to me and lowers his voice. “If you don’t put a smile on that pretty face of yours and get in my car, there are two guys staying at the same group home as your sisters who are more than willing to do a favor or two or three, if you get my meaning.”

“Sure fucking do, asshole,” I grit through clenched teeth. Fuck! I hate my dad. Hate him more than I ever have. “Which one’s your car?”

He grins cockily. “It’s the red Porsche.”

“Of course it is,” I mumble, scanning the crowd enclosing us, wishing upon wishes Blaise was amongst them.

Then again, what is he going to do? He can’t stop these guys from hurting my sisters. No, this is something I’m going to have to attempt to handle on my own.

Just like old times.

The crowd parts as Austin hikes across the grass toward the parking lot, hauling me with him.

“So, I look like the kind of guy who owns a Porsche, huh?” He flashes me a grin.

“Yep,” I say flatly. “But that’s not a compliment.”

“Of course it is, and deep down, I think you know it,” he playfully teases, borderline flirting.

Blaise’s crazy nutjob reference to Austin makes sense. One minute he’s breathing murderous threats down my neck, and the next he’s trying to smile his way into my pants.

Rich, preppy asshat.

“Fine, it can be a compliment if you want it to be,” I tell him as we arrive at his car. “But just know, when I envision a person sitting behind the wheel of a Porsche, I imagine a cocky, rich jerk who wears too much hair gel, has way too shiny shoes, and probably has a cheetah print thong on beneath his wrinkle-free slacks.”

His fingers wrapped around my wrist twitch, his eyes darkening. “Actually, I have on boxer briefs, but it’s nice to know you’re picturing what’s underneath my pants.” He smirks then releases my wrist.

The burnt flesh beneath the bandage throbs, but I refuse to rub my wrist, refuse to show that he hurt me. “I bet those boxer briefs are probably a size extra, extra small.” I flash him a toothy grin then round the front of the car, open the door, and slide onto the warm leather seat.

He follows suit, hopping into the driver’s seat. “You can argue all you want with me,” he says as he revs up the engine. “But in the end, you’ll lose.”

I reach for my seatbelt. “We’ll see about that.”

I’m all bravado, since I already feel like I’ve lost almost everything already.

Well, at least that’s what I think at first.

But, as Austin slams on the gas and peels out of the parking space, I spot a tiny bit of hope amongst the mob of people covering the parking lot.

Standing on the sidewalk is Jaxon Porterson, and his gaze is fastened on the Porsche.

I’m uncertain if he sees me—the windows are really tinted—but if he does, then maybe he’ll tell Blaise, and Blaise will …

What will Blaise do, Hadley? Come save you? Rescue you? Are you really turning into that girl?

No, but at the same time, I’ll swallow down my pride and hope he does help me if it means getting through this mess and my sisters being okay.