“Delay it,” I demand. “Please. Just a few hours.”
“We don’t have extra cops to sit around and babysit, son. Now, Zinnia, is it? Get in the car.”
“No!” Zinnia screams.
“How about this,” I say, putting my hand out. “I’ll bring her to the station tomorrow. She’s stayed at my house before with Tigerlily. She knows it. It’s familiar.”
The officer takes Zinnia’s arm and starts guiding her toward the door.
“The best thing you can do is register to become a foster parent,” she says over her shoulder.
“How long does that take?” Zephyr asks from behind me.
The officer shrugs. “A few weeks.”
“A few weeks!” I can’t keep the anger out of my voice. “You’re taking her from her sister for a few weeks?”
She gets Zinnia into the back of the patrol car.
Zinnia’s hitting the window, crying so hard her face is red. “Lily! Lily! Please! My sister!”
I stand there watching the car pull away. Helpless. Useless.
We stand there in the parking lot, watching until the taillights disappear.
Then we walk back inside, sit down in the chairs, and wait.
Wait for Tiger to wake up.
Wait for someone to tell us she’s going to be okay.
Wait for this nightmare to end.
But the hours stretch on. And nobody comes.
And all I can do is sit here with blood still on my hands and pray that she survives this.
Because if she doesn’t—
If she doesn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do.
But I have an idea of where to start.
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Callum
I run the bloody hockey stick under the shower head, scrubbing it with dish soap.
The water that drains turns pink.
Fucking Jax. He unleashed everything he could on those guys. Every ounce of pent-up rage he’s been holding back for weeks.
Fuck those guys.
My ribs ache. My cheek is swollen like a golf ball. I don’t know if my nose is broken—probably is from how much it’s bleeding. Her dad’s fist landed on me too many times.
I sniff, tasting blood at the back of my throat.
If Tiger can survive his punches, so can I.
