“No shit,” I mutter, head swiveling as we bypass the kitchen, still searching for Charlie. The longer it takes to find her, the tenser I get, spikes of anxiety washing down my spine. I’m not sure what it is—Jack’s ominous messages, his hardened expression, or just knowing that this will be the first time seeing Charlie since she left me.
Ahead, Jack draws up short in a doorway, waiting for me to join him. I look into the room, finding a small office that’s lit by only one small lamp on the corner of a desk. My attention shifts to three occupants of the room. Barrett towers over the other two, and Marisa’s hair makes her easily recognizable. It’s not until she shifts to the side that Charlie’s sandy brown waves come into view, making my heart jerk in my chest.
I’m frozen, drinking in the sight of her like a man who’s finally stumbled on an oasis in the desert after weeks without water.
“Marisa,” Jack calls softly, and they all turn in our direction. Her eyes wide are bloodshot, while Charlie and Barrett wear matching scowls. It takes a second, a heartbeat, and then her eyes slide off Jack and land on me, shock flaring them wide.
My stomach clenches with nerves, sweatgathering along my hairline. I take a step, and then hesitate, unsure whether I should get any closer. “Charlie,” I murmur.
Barrett’s furious eyes swing my way. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he grits out, flicking a dark look at Jack. “Did you tell him she was here?”
He holds his palms out, not breaking eye contact. “I get it, man. I do. But Marisa is one of ours, and that includes Dillon.” The implication isn’t subtle—Barrett’s the interloper here.
Charlie’s the one who flinches, her face blanching. I step closer, wanting to diffuse the tension, to ease the lines marring her brow. “What’s going on? Jack said that Bliss?—”
Marisa lets out a sound like a pained animal, her throat bobbing. “What do you think would be the best way to scrub memories from my brain? A rusty spoon, or sandpaper?”
Barrett’s shoulders lose a fraction of tension, his mouth twitching. “I don’t think either will help,” he tells her.
Jack steps into the room, dragging her into his arms. He squeezes her tightly, his expression darkening into something menacing over her head.
“Where is she?” I ask. “Bliss.”
“Upstairs.” It’s an almost inaudible whisper as Marisa buries her face against Jack, a tremulous waver in her voice. Something really fucked up has gone down, and I’m trying to focus…but my eyes keep dragging toward Charlie like they’re being pulled in by a magnet.
“What did she do?” My voice is rough, and when she jerks back, it feels like a hit straight to the chest, all the air whooshing out of me.
“What hasn’t she done?” Barrett scoffs. “You all have just given her free rein to be the biggestbitch in all the land, right? And now she’s turned it on one of you, and you have the balls to act surprised? Un-fucking-believable.”
“Barry,” Charlie murmurs, reaching up to touch his arm. I watch the easy familiarity, refusing to look away from it. “It’s not the time.”
He looks down at her, his eyes creasing at the corners. “Yeah,” he grunts, flicking a quick look at where Marisa is still hiding against Jack. “Fine.” He crosses his arms, disgruntlement seeping from him.
I inhale, centering myself. “What did she do?” I ask again, and Marisa turns her head, cheek still against Jack’s chest, and watery eyes locked on me.
“She did what Bliss always does—especially when she thinks she might lose,” she whispers brokenly. “She blew everything up just because she can, just to prove the power is hers.”
Chapter 14
Charlie
He isn’t supposed to be here.
My heart started fluttering in my chest the moment I first caught sight of Dillon, the familiar dark strands of his hair sticking up as if he’s been running his hands through it. His hazel eyes keep drifting in my direction, almost as if he can’t stand to have them off me for more than a second.
I shift my weight, subtly sidling closer to Barrett, murmuring under my breath, “Maybe we should go.” He glances down at me, his brow furrowing. “She doesn’t need us now,” I say pointedly, tipping my head to where Jack’s still holding Marisa.
He looks over, eyes flashing, before they come back to me. “She called you,” he reminds me simply, voice low enough that no one else can hear. “You’re the one she trusted. The one she felt safe enough to call.”
I roll my lips inward because that’s true. My desire to leave has nothing to do with Marisa and everything to do with wanting to escapeDillon. I feel like I’ve been encased in ice, but now that he’s here, it’s cracking, letting every emotion I’ve buried slowly seep out.
I’m not ready, andhe isn’t supposed to be here.
Barrett’s expression turns knowing. “Running won’t help you now,” he tells me, his tone gentle. “There are always consequences to your choices, Charlie. And this is one of yours—a confrontation you might not be ready for.”When he looks at the others, I follow suit, finding Jack and Dillon in the middle of a furious whispered conversation, their expressions grim. Marisa looks dazed, her eyes overly bright and two high spots of color in her cheeks.
“We need to get her out of here.” I don’t mean to say it out loud, but the burst of sound draws everyone’s attention. I don’t look at Dillon, not ready to face whatever might be lying in wait in his expression, pinning a stern glare on Jack. “She can’t be here right now.”
“Why didn’t you get her to leave when you got here, then?” he snipes back. “Isn’t that why she called you?”
