Theron shrugs.
“My uncle runs with people like that.”
I blink.
“Excuse me… come again?”
He leans back against the wall, stretching his tattooed legs out.
“Relax. I’m not part of it.”
“Great,” Archie mutters.
“So we’re kidnappedandsitting next to a guy whose family is probably a part of some secret society or has some mafia lore.”
Theron rolls his eyes.
“I said runswith. Notis.”
Archie points at him.
“That’s not comforting.”
Despite everything, a small laugh escapes me.
It’s weird.
The situation is horrifying.
But something about sitting here with these two idiots makes it feel slightly less suffocating.
Archie notices the laugh and smirks.
“Oh good. The rich boy can smile.”
“I’m not a rich boy anymore,” I say.
“Semantics,” Archie replies.
“Your name literally sounds like someone who owns a vineyard.”
Theron snorts.
“Harley Rutherford,” he repeats.
“Yeah. That’s either a billionaire or a vampire.”
“Hey,” I say defensively.
“I used to be normal.”
Archie raises an eyebrow.
“You voluntarily attended a mysterious secret party alone.”
I hesitate.
“... okay fair.”
