But if I go back in now, I’ll lose control.
So I don’t.
Instead, I drop into the chair outside, pull out my laptop, and open the school curriculum I’ve been ignoring for weeks. It’s ridiculous—here I am in the middle of a kidnapping, guarding a girl tied to a chair, and I’m scrolling through syllabi and assignments like some honor student. But maybe that’s the only way to keep myself sane.
Next semester: International Economics. Advanced Calculus. A group project on global trade policy. Christ. I almost laugh. How the fuck am I supposed to focus on trade deficits when there’s a girl inside with tear-streaked cheeks and a mouth I can’t stop thinking about?
I scroll deeper, reading lists, deadlines, trying to convince myself this matters more. My future. My plans. The clean, structured life I was supposed to have before all of this.
But every few seconds my mind drifts back to her.
The way her chest rises and falls under that cheer top. The gloss of her lips when she curses me. The fire in her eyes even when she’s sobbing.
I curse under my breath and slam the laptop shut.
This is bad. So fucking bad.
And I know that tonight is going to test me.
Forty-five minutes later, the night is ripped open by bass that rattles through the cracked warehouse windows, obscene and obnoxious. Jamie never does quiet, never arrives anywhere without announcing himself like he’s a goddamn parade. The tires squeal, headlights cut across the concrete, and I hear the door slam before the music can even fade.
I grit my teeth. “Turn it down,” I bark before he’s even inside, the words echoing across the space.
Jamie grins like the smug bastard he is, blond hair falling into his eyes, the reek of beer and trouble clinging to him like cologne. He doesn’t bother apologizing. He never does.
Rico comes out then, drawn by the noise.
“Jamie,” Rico says with a grin that looks more like a sneer. “Didn’t know you were invited to the party.”
Jamie claps him on the shoulder like they’re best friends. “Didn’t know you were either, Rico.”
I step in before it can escalate. The last thing I need is Jamie baiting him. “Take the food,” I order Rico, shoving the Chipotle bag into his hands.
Rico digs through it, already pulling out the burrito I meant for him. He tears the foil back with his teeth, grease and steam spilling out. “This one’s mine.” He takes a messy bite, rice falling down his chin. “The girl can have the chips and salsa if she wants.”
She’ll probably refuse anyway, too proud to accept anything from us.
Jamie grabs my arm then, pulling me toward the side exit with more force than necessary. His voice drops, losing its usual joking lilt. “What the fuck are you doing here, Miles?”
I don’t look at him. I keep walking, boots crunching on the gravel. “On assignment.”
Jamie snorts. “Assignment, my ass. You’re babysitting. You always were Uncle Victor’s little lapdog.”
I shove him back lightly, not enough to start a fight, just enough to shut him up. “Drop it. Just help me with the car.”
He rolls his eyes but follows.
The sight of it waiting under the dim glow of the streetlight punches me in the gut harder than I expect. Red, sleek linesand glossy paint, sitting there like it belongs in another world. A good world. Not this one.
Her car.
Her pride and joy.
And I rammed into it without hesitation, denting the bumper and twisting the frame just enough to make it limp. My chest aches in a way I don’t want to examine.
Jamie whistles low. “Sick ride. Shame you’ve got to dump it.”
I run my palm along the roof, my reflection fractured in the shine. “Plan is to strip it first. Anything worth something comes with us. Then we sink it.”
