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I return my attention to Wesley.

“The basketball player everyone’s been talking about? What’s his name again? Patrick McDonald?”

“Patrick McDaniel, but he goes by Trick. Star player of our school’s biggest rival. Well, former star player of Central’s because now he’s Littoral’s star player. For basketball anyway.”

We share a knowing look.

“Sounds like a recipe for disaster,” I say dryly.

“Tell me about it. I’m giving him a tour next week.”

“You are? Why?”

“I signed up to.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s one of my jobs.”

One of? She has multiple jobs and she can’t afford a—

A piercing whine cuts her off. It’s so loud, I hop off the bed, searching around for the source as if it’s in the room.

Equally confused, Wesley shouts, “What is that?”

I can only shrug. I have no idea. Whatever it is, it’s coming from inside the house.

Suddenly, the noise amplifies, followed by a growl as the end of a chainsaw tears through the wall to my right.

Oh my God!

The cacophony drowns out my scream as I jump back, almost knocking over Wesley, who’s also screaming.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. That’s Khaos’s room. What is he doing?

Holding each other, Wesley and I stand rooted, watching in horror as a person-sized rectangle is cut into my wall.

With a couple of knocks from the other side, the whole thing falls forward, landing on my floor with a dusty thud that warrants another pair of screams.

The space between my bed and bathroom is now a doorway. A doorway Khaos stalks through, all six foot five of him. No safety goggles on, no shirt on, just unadulterated fury rolling off him in waves as he demands, “Where is he?”

Because he’s looking around, I do, too. Did someone break in or something? Are we in danger?

“Who?”

“Wesley.”

Wesley raises her hand about halfway, a slight tremor to it. “I’m right here.”

“You’re Wesley? But you’re a girl.”

“Yeah.”

“Shit!” He twists like he’s just going to return to his room now.

But ha, ha, ha, no.

“Khaos, what the hell is going on?”