Walking forward, Akara returns to my side. I’m surprised when he slinks a muscular arm over my shoulder. He feels like armor.
Building me up for battle. Containing my smile through my anger proves impossible. I have two boyfriends ready to stoke the fire that blazes under my soles.
And I even appreciate Akara’s concern and caution. He cares enough to voice doubt. And loves us enough to stick with us.
We keep our stride.
Cold in February, I should be shivering under my fleece-lined jean jacket, but anger and adrenaline heat me inside-out. Akara already joked that I look straight out of Stranger Things with my jacket, striped tee, and bell-bottoms, and that I’m not the character Eleven. I can’t hurt Will with my mind.
I fucking wish.
It’d save us a lot of time.
Passing two more houses, we finally reach a stone mansion. Sun shines on skeletal cherry blossom trees that landscape the massive home. The lawn rolls forever, and a long and twisty driveway leads to the curb and an ornate stone mailbox.
My pace slows considerably.
What in the ever-loving…fuck? A black Escalade is parked next to the mailbox.
No, no, no. My pulse beats oddly. Frantically. The SUV is the same model and make as some vehicles in security firms.
“Did the Rochesters hire security?” I ask.
A worse thought: they hired Triple Shield.
My stomach sours. Why would Price Kepler, my mom’s bodyguard since her early twenties, do something as heinous as working for the clear enemy?
I don’t believe he would.
Price might be a stick-in-the-mud, but he’s protected my family for most of his life. He wouldn’t betray us.
Banks chews down on a toothpick. “I don’t know.” He lowers the bat and strengthens his grip on the handle.
Akara is drilling a hole into the Escalade, and then the SUV doors swing open.
I hold my breath.
I recognize the driver. Slicked-back golden hair, short dark-blond beard, and a broad, brawny build. Aunt Lily and Aunt Willow used to have hot takes on Wylie being a forty-something Thor lookalike or a Viking on the History Channel.
It ended with Uncle Lo calling him Walmart Thor. Wylie Jones is my dad’s 24/7 bodyguard. He’s protected him for what feels like forever.
And maybe my aunts are right. Wylie has always appeared as threatening and commanding as a lightning wielding god.
His right-hand protégé hops out of the passenger seat.
Greer.
My former bodyguard and currently my little sister’s. He shaved since last I saw him. His copper-beard now just red stubble.
Both Navy vets, Wylie was the one who recommended Greer for the security job post-military. Akara told me it’s why Greer was instantly put onto a Meadows detail when he was hired. Greer didn’t have to “fight” for the position. In fact, Wylie and Greer have only ever been bodyguards to my family members.
They’re Team Meadows to the dying end.
So seeing them here, like this—like they’re guarding the Rochester’s mansion, is fucking weird.
As we keep trekking forward, Wylie and Greer take a few steps to meet us in the middle of the quiet neighborhood street.
“What’s going on?” Akara asks first.
“Why are you here?” I pipe in.
Banks stays quiet, eyes pinging from Wylie to Greer.
“We were driving through the neighborhood,” Wylie explains to everyone, but he’s looking at me. “We noticed you carrying that bat and heading down the street.” He studies the bat now in Banks’ possession. “So we circled around and came here in case my suspicions were right.” He crosses his arms, but his stance is causal. Calm. “I was hoping to be wrong here, Sulli.”
My heart thumps like I was caught vandalizing a neighbor’s yard with toilet paper. But I haven’t done anything wrong. I hate that he’s making me feel like I fucking have.
“You are wrong.” Akara sticks up for me immediately. “It’s not your place to be here, Wylie.”
Wylie cuts Akara a severe look.
Bodyguard dynamics within the security teams are like complex pieces in a strategic board game. Like playing a game of Catan against Charlie—my brain pounds trying to figure it all out.
What I know: Wylie, Greer, and Price (the Meadows bodyguards on Triple Shield) are not happy with Akara and Banks crossing lines and dating me. And now they all have to work together.
Maybe they’re also pissed that my bodyguards almost got me pregnant. But shark week came. Plan B worked. So I’m on the road to the Olympics now.
“It’s my place,” Wylie says. “Members of the family have instructed Price to keep other members of the family away from the Rochesters. They don’t want drama in the neighborhood. Not while the kids still live here.”
The kids are the teenagers.
My little sister. The girl squad. Xander and Ben.
I’m stuck on members of the family. What the fuck does that mean? Who’s instructing Price and Triple Shield to protect the Rochesters? And which members of the family do they think will go after the Rochesters?
Me, fucking obviously.
I’m in that second category.
I burn beneath my jacket. “I’m here to talk to my ex-boyfriend. I’m allowed to do that.”
“Respectfully, I think you should back up, sir,” Banks says, voice deep.
Greer mutters something under his breath, but I think I hear crayon-eater.
Banks must hear because his eyes cut to Greer and frost.
Wylie rests a palm on Greer’s chest. Keeping him stationary, even when Greer hasn’t taken a step forward. Wylie says to Banks, “If you want to give me respect, you’ll turn around and walk your asses back the other way.”
“It’s not happening,” Akara says. Words resolute. They lift me up. He wasn’t fully on board with this plan, but he’s always been fully on board with protecting me.
Wylie looks grave. “I understand the need to engage with the people who created The Royal Leaks. We’re all mad about it—”
“But it didn’t fucking affect you,” I snap at Wylie. “That asshole and his family hurt mine. You can’t expect me to just walk away.”
“I do expect that,” Wylie says sternly. “Because I stood right here with your dad, and he had to make that choice too.”
What…?
My dad?
I rock back, blown off-kilter for a moment. “He tried to confront the Rochesters?”
Wylie nods. “Your mom, Aunt Lily, and Uncle Connor have instructed Price to make sure that Triple Shield keeps the peace. They’re handling the Rochesters the legal route. It’s just going to take time.”
My mom.
Aunt Lily.
Uncle Connor.
My head spins.
I don’t have time for legal recourse, which could take years. I need to talk to Will now.
My eyes snap to the Rochester’s mansion. My dad walked away.
Why is it so hard for me to do the same?
Hot-tempered breaths inflate and deflate my lungs in uneven patterns. My resolve begins to weaken the longer I think about my family. About creating a bigger mess in search of revenge.
Akara rotates to me, whispering, “We’re with you, Sul. Whatever you decide.”
I take the bat from Banks. Mostly to lean my weight on the bat like a cane, my body feeling heavy and fixed in place. “What do you think?” I ask Banks, but before he can answer, before I have time to make a decision—it’s made for me.