Which means everything else can wait.
The Youngblood house is mostly dark when I pull up, engine still ticking from the hard ride. Only one light glows from what I suspect is Solana’s bedroom window. The rest of the house sits silent and empty.
I knock on the front door, three hard raps that echo in the quiet night.
Nothing answers me. Not even the pad of footsteps approaching. Not the sound of a TV that’s on inside.
I grab my phone and dial her number. It rings in my ear, soon sending me to voicemail.
“Solana!” I bang on the door harder, not caring if I wake the neighbors. “Open the door!”
If Kel’s in there with her, I’ll break every window in this house to get inside. My hand goes to the doorknob, ready to shoulder through if it’s locked.
But it turns easily. It’sunlocked.
That’s immediately concerning. Who leaves their front door unlocked at night in this day and age?
I step inside to find the house like I expected. The place is eerily quiet. It carries the same distinct vibe of an abandoned home, like there’s no life to be found anywhere.
I move through the living room, down the hallway, my boots heavy on the hardwood floors.
“Solana? It’s me. You alright?” I call out to no answer.
Her bedroom door is slightly open, a sliver of light pouring into the dark hallway. I push it wider and then freeze.
Kel Greene’s sprawled on the floor. His eyes are open, staring at nothing. Blood has pooled around him, originating from what looks like a deep stab wound in his gut.
My gaze lifts slowly, already knowing what I’ll find.
Solana’s perched on her bed, knees drawn to her chest, still clutching the knife she used to kill him.
17
SILVER
“Solana…”
Her name comes out as a low rasp, like I’m approaching a wounded, frightened creature in the woods.
But it’s a pretty accurate description all things considered—she’s cornered on her bed, looking like she’s traumatized. Her shirt hangs off one shoulder, Kel’s blood splattered across the fabric like abstract art. The knife trembles in her unsteady grip. Her phone in the other.
She hasn’t moved since she called me.
I step into the room, going slow to not spook her. I’m careful to avoid the puddle of blood spreading from Kel’s body, stopping in front of where she sits on the bed. My hand stretches out, palm side up.
“I need you to give me the knife, Solana.”
She doesn’t react. It’s as if I’m not even here. Her gaze is set on Kel and only Kel, her brown eyes large and glassy.
“Solana,” I say more firmly. “The knife. Hand it to me.”
She blinks, finally seeing me. Her fingers loosen, and I take the blade from her, tucking it into my grip and turning towardher bathroom. I grab a washcloth and wrap the knife tight. Evidence to dispose of later, along with everything else.
When I return, she hasn’t moved. I crouch in front of her, hands gently cupping her shoulders. “What happened? Talk to me.”
Her mouth opens, then closes. It’s as if she’s forgotten how to speak. Or she’s worried if she does, she might pass out.
It takes her another few seconds to get the words past quivering lips. “He… i-in the bathroom at school… cornered me. Then… then tonight he came here. He… he said he knew about the bikers. He told me about… he took photos… a-and videos. From that night.”
