Vaughn doesn’t know as much about me as he should. I might be Rhett’s son, but my legal name isBeckett. Even if Vaughn came up with decent, plausible charges, he’s used the wrong surname, rendering the warrant useless.
“You’re under arrest for the murder of Officer Jonathan Matthews,” he adds, smugness creeping into his voice.
He doesn’t faze me. Neither does the gun aimed between my eyes... but the fact Matthews is deaddoes.
My head whips toward Ryder who’s staring at me with wide eyes. He was trying to tell me something before Vaughn barged in, cutting him off.
“You were saying?”
“You have the right to remain sile—”
“Use it against me in court,” I snap, shutting Vaughn up, then pivot back to Ryder. “You. Were.Saying?”
“They fished Matthews’ car out of a lake in Ohio a few hours ago.”
If I’m being accused of murdering the fucker, I guess his body was in it. Dread fills my veins when Ryder still hasn’t blinked. My heart drums erratically in my chest, an off-key counterpoint to my ringing ears.
Given the state of Vaughn, the crazy in his eyes, the fact Hailey disappeared with Matthews...
A boulder settles in the pit of my stomach, my hold tightening around the glass bit by bit until it explodes, sending crystal shards all over the polished wooden floor. Blood drips down my fingers, but I don’t register the pain. It’s no match for the disorder dominating my mind.
Facts. I needfacts.
“How many?” I ask, pushing the words past clenched teeth.
The atmosphere changes so fast it’s as if an arctic blast breached the walls, chilling the room to an unbearable temperature. I don’t have to spell it out for Ryder or anyone else.
They know exactly what I’m asking.
Everyone shifts. It doesn’t alarm the cops but I recognize the gesture I see on Nate with the corner of my eye. He’s gaining a better footing, angling his body so it’s easier to grab his gun at a moment’s notice. He knows that iftwoleaves Ryder’s lips I’ll fucking lose it.
“Ryder,” I seethe, my blood running cold the longer he stalls. “How many bodies?”
“Two...”
The word hits me like a bullet between the eyes. Everything he says afterwards is a low, incomprehensible buzz.Twosounds fucking abstract.Unbelievablebut my mind grabs the idea, and the breath is knocked from my lungs. They constrict around my spine, deflated and useless like punctured balloons.
My entire world crumbles. Anarchy takes the spotlight. With a brutal flip of a switch inside my head, I’m up on my feet before my brain registers it. The cold metal of my gun weighs heavy in my hand, index finger twitching against the trigger. Blood surges through my ears to mute the world.
Everyone’s moving, shouting...
Guns gleam in the dimmed lights, trained on me. I’m shaking. Physically fuckingshakingdown to my core, and my heart thumps like a countdown, every beat resonating inside my breaking mind.
There’s no slow-motion feel to this. The chaos is in full swing. Inside me, around me, fuckingeverywhere.
I blink, and my arms are wrenched back. Broadway’s right there, obscuring my line of sight.
He grips my head, gouging his fingers into my scalp hard enough I feel the sting above the agony spearing through me. He’s so close his forehead almost drops to mine.
Twocomes back like a recoil, and the image of Hailey’s lifeless body seizes every muscle in my body.
Broadway’s talking, but his words oscillate into a monotone hum. I thrash, trying to shove him away, but someone’s clamping my arms and Broadway’s using his body to keep me in place.
Struggling against whoever’s behind me, I realize my gun’s no longer in my hand... and I fight that much harder.
Until I’m slapped across my face with such force that my head swings left.
“Carter!” Broadway booms, spit flying past his lips. “Fuck! Snap out of it!” he booms again. “She’s okay, she’s alive. It’s not Hailey. Stop fucking fighting!”
