The tendons in my father’s neck twitches as he stares me down. From the corner of my eye, I see Kiervan’s shit-eating grin, and I have to fight the urge to pull out the lighter to catch a glimpse of the fire.
Not yet, I tell myself.Get the money.Get the kill switch.Then watch it blow up.
“That’s not what was agreed,” my father says.
I twist the lighter between my fingers, stamping back images of what my family would look like as flames engulf them. It’s making me question my decision to let them live.
Pictures of copper hair and sterling-blue eyes come to mind as I try to reign in control over my emotions, but it feels like concrete has been poured into my lungs and sucked the oxygen out of the air. The people in my family are like sharks, ready to strike at the first sign ofan opening. To them, emotion is a weakness, and I’m the weakest of the lot.
“That’s not what the terms of the trust fund say. Kiervan received his the day he graduated,” I argue. My voice comes out clearly without giving away any of my desperation or homicidal thoughts.
We need those funds.
Blaze and I will need a roof over our heads, food on the table, and cash to make our families bleed for what they’ve done. I won’t have time to work enough hours while studying, and Blaze isn’t exactly going to be the most outstanding employee. Disowning my family while I’m penniless isn’t an option.
“You have done nothing to earn it. Your brother, on the other hand, has. For example,hehasn’t been associating with thewrongWhitlock.” My blood runs cold as my sperm donor continues. “You think I didn’t know about your relationship with her? I know everything,boy. And you have me fooled if you think you will get any ofmymoney to finance herhabits.”He draws his phone out of his pocket and resumes walking to the car park. “We are not speaking about this out here any further.” Lifting the device to his ear, he effectively dismisses me.
Mom picks that exact moment to pull out her phone and type furiously as she follows my father, leaving me behind with the spawn of Satan.
I grab Kiervan’s wrist before he has the chance to lay a hand on my shoulder, and throw it off to the side.
Kiervan raises both hands in surrender as picture-perfect innocence gleams in his unfeeling eyes. “Careful, Koko. My claws are bigger than your little kitty’s.” He makes a show of looking around. “Where is she, by the way? Maybe we should introduce her to dearol’ Dad.” A malicious smile splits across his face. “Or maybe she and I could head into one of the janitors’ closets, and I can give her theKiervan special.”
Anger lashes through me, red and hot. He stays put when I take a step toward him. My hands stay glued to my side because I’ll kill him if I don’t restrain myself. “If you say her name—or even talk about her—I will gut you. If you’re on the same street as her, I will rip your eyes out and make you choke on them. If you so much as think of her, every inch of you will be covered in sixth-degree burns.”
He chuckles, closing the distance so we’re chest to chest. “You don’t have it in you.”
“For her, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
My brother smiles, showing off his gleaming white teeth. “Then it’s a good thing you’re finished with my assignment, right? If not, Jonathan might want to hear that she’s been trying to contact me.”
“She hasn’t,” I say with so much conviction, the Devil himself would believe it. Blaze wouldn’t hurt me like that. Not anymore.
“He doesn’t know that.” Kiervan’s eyes dart to a spot behind me. “Should we tell him? I’m sure he’d like to know all about her constant harassment.”
I whip around. Sure enough, Jonathan Whitlock Sr. is sitting inside a black SUV with his windows rolled down, searching the crowd as I spot at least five suited men moving with purpose between the throngs of people. Still, Blaze isn’t in sight, but it doesn’t stop the knots tying in my stomach.
If she doesn’t stick to the plan, I’ll kill her myself.
Flicking the lighter again, I glare at Kiervan and follow him to the car. Swallowing my pride, I say through gritted teeth, “The conclusion and references need to be written. Then it’s done.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper as I slam the access card against the door.
I scan my surroundings for any security guards or Grandpa’sMen in Black–looking goons, then dive into one of the classrooms to grab my go-bag that Kohen and I stuck here earlier this morning. I duck behind the screen and strip out of the formal uniform for graduation and quickly change into a hoodie, a pair of jeans, and boots. I slide the hood over my head even though it’s too hot for any of what I’m wearing, but my red hair makes me stand out far too much.
We should have gotten a wig. Or a hat. Or shaved my fucking head.
Sneaking out of here to smoke a joint and getting arrested after fucking up the Osmans’ place didn’t make me break out in hives. But trying to leave Seraphic Hills without anyoneassociated with the Whitlocks is proving to be one of the most stressful experiences I’ve ever had. Fourth to being locked in a tub, being medically electrocuted, and getting so high one time I thought I was being abducted by giants.
My eye is twitching, my fingers are trembling, I’m lightheaded, and I can barely fucking breathe. Somehow, this isn’t the same high that comes with stealing or doing shit I’m not supposed to.
If I don’t make it out of here, I’m going to die. That’s not me being dramatic or presumptuous; if my grandfather catches me, a part of me will die, and I will never get it back.
I didn’t hold on for this long to end up worse than where I started. But also, how fucking embarrassing would it be to die as soon as I graduate high school?
My hand slips into the front pocket of my duffel bag and wraps around a solid plastic gadget, which I stuff into my pocket. The cold sweat breaking over my skin makes my hands shake as I throw my duffle bag over my shoulder and peek out the door before gapping it. This is a shit plan. A really, really shit plan. But it’s the best one Kohen and I could come up with in such a short period of time. And my plan relies on one person who could very well let us down.
I slam to a stop and glance around another turn. My breath hitches when I spot the other son of a bitch on my hit list. Motherfucking Boris, the security guard that crawled out of Lucifer’s ass. The coast is clear behind me, so I could leave this wing if I wanted. It’d just mean being outside and exposed for longer.
