I glance over at my desk, my eyes locking on the bulletin board covered with photos of Hayes and me. Snapshots of us through time—birthday parties, bonfires, camping trips, prom. Each one hurts to look at, but I can’t turn away.
My throat tightens as I smile at all the good memories… and then it hits me. In a few more weeks—or maybe even days—there might not be any more memories for Hayes and me.
These pictures might be all we ever have.
Isit in bed after Mom leaves, anxious and unsettled. Everything feels out of control, like my entire world is crashing down around me and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Inside, I feel hollow. Numb.
I tell myself to breathe. To cool down. To give it time.
But I can’t.
Fuck it.
I can’t keep lying here, paralyzed and powerless. I have to see Hayes. I need to know he’s okay. If anyone can pull him out of this, it’s not Amber—it’s me. He just needs to remember that.
I rip off my pizza-stained pajamas and throw on a pair of leggings and an old fleece-lined pullover to brace against the November chill. My hair goes into a low ponytail, and then I grab my keys and head to my car.
I pause for a breath in the driver’s seat, debating as I look at my cell phone. I should probably text my mom and let her know where I’m going so she doesn’t worry.
But I don’t.
She’d only try to stop me, and my mind is already made up.
Just as I start the engine, my phone buzzes with a new message.
Come over. I need you.
My heart leaps as I stare at the screen.
It’s from Hayes.
This is the first text he’s sent since the night his father died. It can’t be a coincidence. It feels like fate. Like somehow, he felt me reaching for him, and now he’s reaching back.
Ten minutes later, I pull through the security gate at Laguna Hills Bluffs and wind my way up the long drive to the Vassilios home. The sky has already slipped into twilight, the last scraps of daylight bleeding out over the hills.
One by one, security lights flicker on, casting cold white beams across the trees and driveway. Shadows stretch long and low as I pull up to the front steps. Before I can even knock, the door swings open, and two people I’ve never seen before stand in the doorway.
Two jaw-droppingly gorgeous people.
Staring back at me are a man and a woman, a few years older than me, with the kind of striking looks that don’t seem entirely real.
The man is aggressively tall, broad-shouldered and olive-toned, with a mouth made for trouble. Full lips, straight teeth, and the faintest grin playing at the corners. His hair is white-blond, bright as winter frost, cut clean and sharp, and he’s got eyes the most intense shade of green I’ve ever seen, like polished emeralds. A thin scar cuts from his brow to the edge of his cheekbone, stopping just short of his jaw. It shouldruin the symmetry of his perfect face, but somehow, it only makes him more handsome.
And judging by the smirk on his face, he looks like he knows it, too.
The woman beside him is just as breathtaking, but in a colder, almost reptilian way. Her eyes are like onyx, so deep and dark they barely reflect light. Thick curls spill down her back in a cascade of red, streaked with radioactive green at the tips. She’s unnaturally still, her presence coiled and watchful, like a venomous snake lying in tall grass. Beautiful but lethal.
“Oh… hi,” I say. “I wasn’t expecting Hayes to have company.”
There’s a spark of interest in the man’s eyes, intense and unsettling. Like he’s been expecting me but isn’t sure whether to be amused by my arrival—or annoyed.
“Alysander, right?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, like smoke curling through the air.
“Y-yes,” I stammer. “I’m sorry… who are you?”
“Nikolas,” he says, then gestures to the woman beside him. “And this is Selene. We’ve heard a lot about you.” His lips twitch, like he’s in on some joke I’m not.
“Nice to meet you,” I reply, though the words come out a little stiff.
