Page 120 of Striking Range

“Um… Well, let’s think this through,” I start, anxiously peering around the room.

I was born malicious and conniving; I can come up with something, right?

“Think what through?!” Everett nearly screeches.

Ash has dirt on me and therefore has dirt on Evie. The best course of action would be to get dirt on him to counter his move, right?

“Alright. How about this,” I continue. “We get dirt on Ash and threaten to out him if he outs me.”

Everett groans, throwing his hands up. “There is no dirt on my dad! He’s made him indestructible!”

“No,” I interrupt, pointing my finger in his direction. “He’s indestructible to you. You lived your whole life afraid of him, but he’s just a guy, Evie. He’s bound to have made mistakes.”

“None that he reveals to the world,” Everett counters.

“Blackmail is a mistake, right?” Henry offers, his eyes darting between the group excitedly.

Blackmail is a mistake. It’s illegal. If we could prove that, then he’d be done for. But how do we prove it? As far as I know, Everett didn’t record his encounter with his dad.

Record.

Oh, shit.

“Evie, your dad cares a lot about appearances, right?” I ask, taking a step toward him with a new determination.

“Sky, stop scheming. This won’t help us,” he shoots back.

“Just answer my question.”

“Yes, he does.”

Perfect. If the only thing Ash truly cares about in this world is his image, then we attack that.

I grin, all teeth and a complete representation of the angry thing inside of me that is stirring. “Here is the plan.”

Kelly lets out a soft laugh. “Let the game begin.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Everett Young

I stare at the Carmichael residence in an eerie silence as fear and panic crawl up my throat. The three hours it took to get back to Rockhill were spent in an agonizing debate with Skylar, Kelly, and Henry as we hashed out our plan.

I’m still on the fence about the reality that there is a plan. I should be leaving this state, no backtracking further into it.

But Skylar is convinced our plan will work, and honestly, it’s a decent one. He turned his scheming brain up to ten and found a way for us to stay together, right here in Sinclair.

The joy and anticipation in his eyes tell me that he is certain of our victory, and that he will take some joy in knocking my adoptive father down a peg. I can relate to that joy.

Henry and Kelly sit in the front seats, patiently waiting for Sky and me to get a move on. Our plan does not require our friends to do anything but wait and then act as our getaway car.

“We can do this,” Skylar declares with confidence, reaching over to grip my hand in his. “We go in, record him being his typical self, and threaten to out him if he outs me. That’s all.”

And it really is that simple. So why am I afraid? Why am I sweating, dreading walking back into my childhood home? It was never a place of love and acceptance, but it was still mine.

Well, up until recently.

Skylar opens the car door and tugs me along with him, speedwalking toward the front entryway. My heart is sinking, my forehead beading with perspiration.