His eyes spark as he looks at me. “You must be Hazel.”
I blink. “How do you know?—”
“I’ve heardso much,” Sam says dramatically, stepping aside so we can come in. “Mostly in the form of Zack complaining about you like a wounded Victorian spinster.”
“Sam,” Zack warns again, dropping his helmet on a side table a little too forcefully. The lamp on the table nearly falls, and he catches it before stomping off like a petulant child.
“Oh! Which totally reminds me.” Sam leans in conspiratorially. “Is he still doing that thing where he acts like smiling will cause structural damage to his face?”
I absolutely lose it. A laugh bursts out of me, too loud for the quiet house, but God it feels good. Relief loosens something knotted tight in my chest. I glance at Zack, whose scowl is teetering dangerously close to a pout.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, he is. But sometimes—very rarely—there are thesemicro-smileevents. Like an eclipse. You have to be quick.”
Sam slaps a hand over his heart. “A micro-smile? A confirmed sighting? I’m honored to be in the presence of someone who’s seen the impossible.”
Zack stomps past both of us toward a hallway. “I’m grabbing my stuff. Touch nothing. Talk less.” I have to hold back a snort as I watch Zack’s disappearing form.
“We will absolutely do neither of those things,” Sam calls after him. Then he turns to me, smirking. “So, mysterious girl Zack risked his blood pressure to bring home, what are you two running from that actually has him bringing you here?”
My stomach tightens again, the reminder crawling back under my skin. The sounds that surrounded us, the shadows in the trees, Zack’s dead-eyed stare—it’s floating around in my brain and sticking to my very bone marrow.
“I…don’t know,” I finally admit, my following response nowhere near as confident. “But he looked scared? I don’t really know what's all going on.” There’s also no way that I’m telling his…kid? I mean, I don’t even know who this child really is, but this clearly isn’t the time or place for a family reunion.
Sam’s eyebrows lift conspiratorially, a shit-eating grin growing on his face, his youth more prominent. “Zack? Scared? Huh. Okay, now you’ve got my attention.”
That flicker of fear—the thing I’ve been trying to bury—wiggles up my throat again. “Do you think we’re actually in danger?”
Sam doesn’t answer right away. His joking expression softens, just slightly, as he steps a little closer, his voice dropping almost as if not believing this was actually happening.
“If Zack brought you here,” he says quietly, “then yeah. Something’s wrong. He only comes home when he needs backup, and the fact that he let you inside the house…shit must be real fucking serious.”
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering in my chest. I can almost feel the anxiety throwing itself around my body. The word echoes in my psyche.Backup.
Zack reappears with a duffel slung over his shoulder, jaw clenched, eyes still stormy enough to make my skin prickle. He nods once toward the door.
“Let’s go.”
Sam steps in front of him, eyebrows raised. “Going without me? Rude.”
“Absolutely not, Samuel. You know the rule. You don’t get to know or come with in these situations. This isn’t your life, kid. Remember that.”
“It is now,” Sam says, simply. “Rule one, big brother: you don’t run into danger alone.” Then he glances at me and adds with a grin, “Or with only someone who can’t get on a motorcycle without almost dying.”
“Hey!” I protest, but my eyebrows shoot up at the realization of who this kid is—his little brother.
Zack exhales sharply. But there’s a tiny, almost nonexistent twitch at the corner of his mouth. A micro-smile.
And for a moment, even with the threat still crawling in the dark behind us, I breathe easier. Because whatever we’re running from? We’re not running alone anymore, and that is probably the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BURNING DOWN
ZACK
This is a fucking disaster. A real one. Sirens-blaring, building-on-fire, Zack-is-going-to-pass-out kind of disaster. I do not know what the hell I expected when I brought Hazel here. Maybe quiet. Maybe a normal conversation. Maybe Sam not looking like he just won the goddamn lottery. What I definitely did not expect was Hazel and Sam becoming best friends in the span of five minutes, then teaming up to roast me like it was an Olympic sport.
Instead, I have both of them staring at me with these stupid, knowing grins. Hazel stands in the kitchen with her arms crossed and that perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted like she has already solved the puzzle that is me. Sam is leaning against the counter with his arms crossed like he is waiting for the punchline to a joke, and apparently the joke isalsome.
