“So, do you, what? Like live here now or something?” Alex mocks as he grabs a box of cereal from the cupboard.

I’m lingering near the back door, watching Blaise through the window. He’s talking to some big dude who’s dressed like he thinks he’s in some action movie. There’s a girl standing beside him who looks around my age and is wearing what I think are designer clothes with how shiny and fancy the material is. Her long, black hair is equally as shiny and her shininess makes her appear way out of place in this dingy, rundown neighborhood.

Who is she? And why is she at my house?

“Yeah, actually, I am,” I quip back to Alex while keeping my gaze trained on Blaise and the two strangers. What’s going on over there? “Into your room, actually.” I give him an exaggerated cheery smile. “We’re going to have so much fun, roomie!”

He stares at me, unimpressed, as he pours some cereal into a bowl. “Hardy fucking har. You’re so fucking funny.”

“Thanks.” I grin as he narrows his eyes on me.

“Come on, you two, cut it out,” Rhyland intervenes. He’s sitting on the kitchen table with his feet propped up on one of the mismatched chairs with his phone in his hand and his gaze on the screen.

“Just because Blaise isn’t in here right now doesn’t make you the boss,” Alex snaps as he gets a gallon of milk out of the fridge.

“Um, yeah, it does,” Rhyland insists without looking up.

“How do you figure?” Alex unscrews the cap on the milk.

“Because I’m currently the oldest one here.” Rhyland puts his phone into his pocket.

Alex shakes his head. “By, like, two minutes.”

“That still makes me older. And besides, I’m more mature than you.” Rhyland shrugs when Alex blasts him with a dirty look. “Don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true.”

Jaxon, who’s eating his cereal quietly at the table, sighs. The kid rarely talks. In fact, I think I’ve heard him utter maybe a total of three sentences since I met him. I wonder why that is. If he’s simply quiet, perhaps shy, or if there’s more to it than that.

“It’s not true,” Alex argues. “You just think you know everything, but you don’t, so get over yourself.”

Rhyland lowers his hands into his head. “It’s too early for this shit,” he mumbles.

Silence stretches across the room, except for the crunching sounds of Alex and Jaxon munching on their cereal. But the air thick with a tension.

More than ready to leave, I glance back out the window and relief washes over me. The car with tinted windows is gone and Blaise is pulling up into the driveway of his house in my car.

I grab the doorknob and hurry outside, muttering, “Later.” Then I jog down the stairs and across the yellowing grass.

By the time I reach my car, Blaise is hopping out.

“Who were those people you were talking to?” I ask as I toss my bag into the back seat.

He rubs his palm across the top of his head, stress written all over his face. “The big guy’s name is William. He’s one of Axel’s bodyguards.”

I shield my eyes from the sunlight. “And he was looking for my dad?” I ask, and he nods. “What’d you tell him?”

He shrugs, his hand falling to his side. “The truth—that I don’t know where Mel is.”

“Did you tell him about the fight last night? Or the drugs and money in the backyard?”

He shakes his head. “And I don’t plan on it.” He shifts his weight, sliding his hands into his back pockets. “Honestly, I think the less Axel and my father know about your dad, the better.”

“Yeah, I agree. I’m not a fan of my dad, but I don’t want to do or say anything that might help someone track him down either.”

“That’s not really what I’m worried about.”

“What do you mean?”

He rubs his lips together while studying me. “I don’t want to scare you, but I’m more worried about you and your sisters than your dad.”

I gulp down a shaky breath. “You think they’ll come after us?”

“I’m not sure,” he answers honestly. “I can ask my dad to stay away from you guys, maybe call in a favor, but Axel’s a whole different story.”

My palms begin to sweat, my heart an erratic mess in my chest. “Maybe I should go to the police and report the situation.”

He’s shaking his head before I can even finish the sentence. “Whatever you do, don’t go to the police.”

I gape at him. “That seems like a stupid idea when my sisters’ lives could be in danger.”

“No one’s going to just go hurt them,” he insists. “If anything, they’ll probably try to get you guys to help them find your dad and the drugs and money he stole. As for the cops… there’s so much corruption and hush money being thrown around in Honeyton, that at this point it’s hard to tell who’s trustworthy.”

God, why did my dad have to move us to this town? Then again, the more I learn about what my dad was doing in Honeyton, the less I think us ending up here was just because he picked some random town on a map.

I chew on my bottom lip. “Maybe I could talk to one of my dad’s old cop friends and get some outside help.”

His brows furrow. “Your dad was a cop?”

“An undercover detective,” I clarify. “I know it seems super crazy, but back before my mom…” I hastily clear my throat, not wanting to get into that whole story right now. “But yeah, anyway, he used to be a cop. It’s been a while but still, maybe I can track down his old partner. From what I remember, he was a nice guy and he doesn’t live here.”

Hesitancy flashes across his face.

“What’s that look for?” I wonder. “Do you think I’m lying or something? Because I’m not.”

He slowly shakes his head. “No, that’s not it.”

“Then, what is it?”

“I’m not sure if I should say anything.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t have pulled that face. But you did, so …” I motion for him to spit it out.

He blows out an exhausted sigh. “I was just going to ask if you knew for sure if your dad’s old partner was a good cop.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Of course he is and so was my dad. Why would you even ask that?”

He scratches his cheek. “It’s just that, generally when people do sketchy things like what your dad’s been doing, they’ve been doing it for a while.”

“He has been doing sketchy stuff for a while,” I snap. “For about eight years, right after he quit being a detective. Up until then, he was a good guy, so stop making accusations about shit you don’t understand.”

Was he a good guy, though? Remember what you dreamt last night? About being taken right after your mom crashed and the whispered words of your dad owing a debt.

Blaise frowns. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” I spin toward my car, fuming mad and more than ready to speed my way to ease.

Honestly, my anger might not be stemming from Blaise. Deep down, I think I’m pissed off at my father for the mess he’s gotten me and my sisters into, and for the mess he quite possibly put me in eight years ago.

“Hadley, wait,” Blaise calls out.

I almost ignore him but find myself twisting around. “What?”

He drags his tongue along his teeth, hesitating. “There’s this girl who’s going to be at school today. Her name’s Amelia—she’s Axel’s daughter. She was actually the girl who was outside with William.” He restlessly drums his fingers against the sides of his legs. “She knew about the situation with your dad so I really think you should try to avoid her.”

“I’ll be fine,” I assure him. “I can handle some prissy-looking rich girl.”

“She’s more ruthless than she looks. And she has a twin brother …” His frown deepens. “Together, they’re a bundle of straight-up crazy.”

“Good thing I can handle crazy.” What I probably can’t handle, though, is a bunch of dudes as big as that William guy coming after me and my sisters. That’s a problem I’m going to have to deal with.

What I need is to get some outside help and try to figure out just how many bags of drugs and how much money my dad stole. Maybe if I can find all the bags, I can get these guys to leave me and my sisters alone.

“Please just be careful,” Blaise utters softly, his eyes doing that smoldering, intense thing again.

“I will.” Practically bursting with anxiousness and in need of some desperate alleviation of tension, I jump into the driver’s seat and reach to shut the door.

Blaise rushes forward and grabs the door before I can close it, eliciting a frustrated growl from me.

He gives me a funny look. “Did you just growl?”

“Yeah, because you’re frustrating and sometimes I growl when I’m frustrated, so you should probably get used to it.”

His rolls his tongue in my mouth, trying not to smile. “Sorry for being so frustrating, but I was just going to say that you should give me your phone number so I can call you when I know more.”

Out of habit, I’m reluctant, but then I realize the bigger picture and prattle off my digits. After he enters them into his phone, he sends me a text so I have his number too, then steps back.

“Drive safe, okay?” he says and I nod, but it’s total bullshit.

The last thing I need right now is to drive safe.

What I need is to release some of this anxiety and fear coursing through me before I end up having another breakdown.