Jack holsters his weapon when he sees me, shoulders dropping a fraction.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Define ‘okay,’” I rasp.
He huffs something that isn’t quite a laugh. “You’re alive. I’ll take it.”
My phone buzzes in my palm. BRODIE flashes across the screen. Then COTTON. Then BRODIE again. My cousin’s way of saying the thing out loud without saying it—
Answer, or I’m coming over.
I ignore the calls for a second, staring at Jack.
“What now?” I ask. My voice sounds very far away. “You guys arrest him? Shoot him? Drag him off into the night?”
Jack’s jaw flexes. “We didn’t catch him. He booked it as soon as he heard the sirens, made his way across the river and into the wooded hillside. He must've had a boat waiting. We’ve got unitscombing the area, but…” He looks at me, and the apology in his eyes makes bile rise in my throat. “He knows how to vanish.”
Of course he does. That’s part of what made him such a good ghost the first time. “That’s his territory.”
My phone buzzes again, insistent.
Jack nods at it. “Answer him. He’s not going to let this go.”
I thumb it on and lift it to my ear.
“What the fuck is going on?” Brodie’s voice explodes in my head without preamble. “Jack just called. He said—”
“He was here,” I cut in before Brodie can say Henry’s name out loud. “At my door. At my window.”
Silence, heavy and lethal.
“Pack a bag,” Brodie says finally, voice gone flat. “You’re going to Philly.”
“The fuck I am.” I glance around my small, messy apartment. The hummingbird, the sad little tree. The life I’ve built here, weird and imperfect and mine. I have my routines. My space. “I’m not leaving. This is my home.”
“You can’t stay, Tallulah.” He only uses my full name when he’s dead serious. “You saw him. He knows where you live. He knows you. I’m not letting you be an easy target.”
“I’m not—I’m not going to let some psycho run me out of my own town,” I snap, throat thickening. “I’m not thirteen anymore. I’m not scared of monsters. And you guys can keep me safe.”
Jack’s brows pinch, but he doesn’t contradict me.
“You’re not scared?” Brodie repeats slowly. “Good. Then you won’t be scared when I tell Kael to send someone to sit on you until this is handled. Jack and I can’t keep eyes on you twenty-four-seven, Twig.”
I grit my teeth so hard I hear them grind together. “I don’t need an around-the-clock babysitter.”
“I need you alive.” His tone brooks no argument. “And Kael will feel the same. And it’s called a bodyguard. I’ll talk to him, and he’ll send someone down tomorrow. You’ll deal with it.”
“I—”
The line clicks. He’s already hung up.
I stare at my phone for a heartbeat, then another.
“Thanks a lot,” I mutter at Jack.
A ghost of a grin tugs at his mouth. “You know he’s right.”
“I know I’m going to murder whatever poor bastard Kael sends,” I grumble, collapsing onto the couch. The cushions swallow me whole. I press my palms into my eyes until I see stars.
