My heart stops.
I bite the inside of my cheek because, with the tape against my mouth, I can’t do anything else.
Footsteps shuffle against the floor, and the bright light of his phone is inches from my face. I scan the text quickly, and a wave of nausea rolls inside my stomach.
It’s from Cross.
Send me the location. I have the money.
I’m relieved but terrified.
These aren’t your typical men. Who is to say they won’t kill him on the spot after Cross hands over the money? Who is to say they won’t turn on him and then claim me as their prize, like they’ve been threatening to do since being alone with them in this empty, musty building?
I clench my eyes shut and turn my head away from him.
It isn’t until I hear the creaky hinges of the door being opened that I come back to reality. Except, it isn’t what I hoped for at all.
There are no sirens blaring in the distance or men in S.W.A.T. suits with their guns pointed at my captors.
Instead, it’s Cross. And he’s all alone.
[ 32 ]
CROSS
My momand Scarlett’s dad meet me at the edge of Shadow Valley an hour after his text comes through. In that time, I brought Tyler to the emergency room–he woke up shortly after I came back downstairs, but he seemed too disoriented for my liking–and told Scar’s dad that we had to meet.
I spare a moment to hug my mother, whose concern is etched all over her face. Beyond that, she looks good. Her hair is shinier than I’ve ever seen it, and she has little gold hoops in her ears. She’s wrapped in a thick puffy jacket lined with faux fur, and her gloved hands take mine.
I face Scarlett’s dad. I still can’t think of him as mystepfather. It doesn’t seem real. I haven’t spent enough time with the man to even consider him family.
But he’sherfamily.
And I’ve never seen the emotions controlling his expression right now. A mix of worry and anger. He thrusts his phone out, the message from a blocked number on the screen.
BLOCKED: We have your daughter. A hundred grand for her life. You have until 5PM. Police = no deal, and you’ll never see her again.
BLOCKED: [IMAGE]
A hundred thousand dollars? I blanch. The photo is of Scarlett–fiery, glaring–sitting on an old rickety chair. Her hands are bound behind her back.
There’s a newspaper leaned against her shins.
“That’s the headline from today,” he says in a low voice. “What the hell is going on, Cross?”
I swallow and meet his gaze. “I did something bad. This is all on me.”
“Cross,” my mother gently pleads, looking at my bruised face. “Just be honest with us.”
I close my eyes and tell them the story. It starts with my fighting.
“Fighting,” her dad repeats.
“I train at a reputable gym in town, but the owner got me into some fights for extra money.” I glance at Mom. “I needed every penny I could earn to stay in school.”
“You had a lacrosse scholarship–”
“It didn’t cover everything,Mamá. It didn’t cover food and books and…” I shrug. “General cost of living. I couldn’t burden you with it.”
