Ever scrubs a hand over his face. “That’s about it.”
Nash chews the corner of his lips, his gaze unwavering on Reva before he transfers it to Ever. “I reckon I wouldn’t have stopped, either.”
I snort. “I can testify that fuck no, you wouldn’t have stopped.”
The tension in the room deflates, like a balloon popping.
I poke gently at Reva’s wound. She barely flinches. “All right, that’s good. Let’s get you stitched up.”
Reva swallows, her eyes dark on Nash and Ever. “I’m not a child. Iwilldo what I want to do. You can either get on board with that, or…”
“No,” Ever says, too rough, and his eyes burn. “You’re not a child.”
While Ever and Reva stare at each other, neither willing to blink and admit the other is right, I glance at Nash.
Our silent conversation unfolds at the same time as Reva and Ever’s standoff. In my hand is a tiny metal capsule Ever brought back down with him. I glance down to Reva’s side and back to Nash as he nods once.
Just like that, I know I’m aboutto put the tracker in her flesh before I stitch her wound.
We’re never not going to know where this girl is again.
There’s heat in the room now that has nothing to do with the humidity. Something chemical. Something that sparks between all three of us and her, like a wire we keep tripping over.
Reva feels it. I can see it in the way her gaze flicks between us.
“I’m on board,” I say lightly, pulling attention back to me once the tracker is placed and I’m drawing floss through her skin and trying not to think about the fact that this is Reva’s skin. That I’ve just put a tracker in her body without her permission or consent.
This is about protecting her, though. Even if it means we’re protecting her from herself. From doing something stupid like running off again, where we can’t find her.
She cuts her eyes at me. “I don’t think there was ever any doubt about you, Shiloh.”
I drag in a mock-horrified gasp. “Why Reva Leigh Hart…are you saying I’m easy?”
Her eyes go round.
Nash drags in a breath, forces himself back into logic.
“This isn’t working,” he says.
Ever’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we’re blind,” Nash replies. “And someone is taking shots while we can’t see what’s happening.”
Reva’s head lifts, and her gaze swings to him. “Who?”
Nash’s gaze cuts to her. “Deacon, maybe.”
Reva goes still. Ever goes even stiller.
I feel the room tilt and focus on finishing up the stitches. In. Out.
Nash keeps going. “Or Mother.”
Reva’s brows knit, confusion sharp. “Mother?”
Nash’s mouth turns hard. “Not your concern. Yet.”
Reva’s voice breaks through, angry and thin, and I have to set a hand on her shoulder to remind her to be still. “Everything is my concern! This is literally aboutme. You don’t get to decide things about me like I’m not in the room.”
