A sound behind me. The knob turning.
Stone grabs me, pulls me to him, one arm slung around my chest, bracketing me to him. The other around my neck. If he pulled any tighter, he’d be choking me.
But that’s not what this is.
A large form darkens the door before emerging into the soft light of the room.
The big one from before—Grayson. He glowers at us. He’s the one who just got out of prison. He wasn’t released or anything official like that. He broke out. Escaped.
Another man comes in, fists balled at his sides. Knox. The blond one. Sharp as a blade.
They both have that hard look of someone who’s given their share of violence. Taken it, too. My heart breaks for them even as I know what they’re here to do.
“You’re done,” Grayson says, nice and soft.
Stone pulls me against him. “Out.”
Grayson’s voice stays low and calm. “It’s done. You didn’t break her. I don’t think you can, which is interesting, but it doesn’t matter. We can do it.”
“I got this,” Stone says.
A sudden silence firms up around us, cold and hard as ice.
“You don’t,” Knox says, incredulous. “Not at all.”
“Told ya,” Grayson mutters.
“No one touches her,” Stone says.
Another guy crowds into the room, long blond hair nearly white. Stone swears under his breath and shoves me behind him. There’s a snick and a flash. A blade appears in Stone’s hand.
I suck in a breath.
“What the fuck, Stone!” Grayson says, looking harder than ever before. Like every gilded edge in him turns to steel. “You’re gonna fight me?”
“You fought me,” Stone says, sounding just as hard. There aren’t any people left in this room. Only metal and rock. Only me, light as a feather. “When I went after Abby, you stopped me.”
“That was different. You just didn’t want her here. Your own fucking rules. But this girl? She’s holding secrets, secrets that protect them. Since when do you pick their side?”
“I’m not on their side,” Stone says, soft with menace. “I’m on hers.”
“So that’s the way it is,” Knox bites out.
“That’s right.”
“Fuck that,” Grayson says. He picks up a chair like it’s a toy and swings at Stone. With a roar, Stone absorbs the hit. Something cracks—wood? Bone? I scream and melt into the corner.
Stone has hold of the chair. He shoves back. Grayson falls.
Knox grabs Stone from behind. The one with long pale hair goes for his arm.
Stone hits the blond one in the face.
Knox grunts, struggling with Stone. There are more punches. More grunts.
A deep voice— “Fuck!” Stone fights harder than I’ve ever seen, but he’s outnumbered.
I squeeze more deeply into the corner, horrified. The knife flies into the corner opposite me. More punches, more grunts. Fists and thwaps and swear words fill the room.
Stone’s protecting me. From his brothers.
“Stop it!” I yell. “No more!”
It’s a whisper in the wind.
I make myself small, unused to so much fury and violence. A table crashes over, and I jerk deeper into myself. The most vicious fights I see happen with words and cutting glances. Except that night of my sixteenth birthday. This is like that. Only Stone is the one losing.
Somebody else comes in, shorter, smaller. I can barely see this new one behind the blur of fighting men. Only that the room fills up even more.
Will this one attack Stone, too? How many men can he defend himself against?
A blast rips the air—loud and sudden. Massive as dynamite. Instinctively, I tuck my head into my chest, clapping my hands over my ringing ears.
Something exploded.
No—a gunshot! There’s a shooter!
My blood races. Did somebody shoot Stone?
But no, there he is, lip bloody, crowded on one side of the room with his arms protectively over his guys, as if he can ward off bullets. They’re all together, panting, side by side like they weren’t just fighting a moment ago.
“What the fuck!” Grayson says.
A woman with brown hair and glasses comes into the room. She has fine features like a bird. She’s wearing red yoga pants and a long T-shirt with a bright pink and gray flower design. But the most remarkable thing about her is the shiny gun in her delicate hand.
She gestures at the group of them. “Not a move. Don’t even.”
Who is this girl in this place? Is she one of them? Stone only mentioned brothers in the basement.
“You are in so much trouble,” Grayson growls.
A mischievous glint appears in her eyes, but the way she holds the gun says she isn’t playing.
The guys stay back as she moves toward me.
“Gimme the gun, Abby,” Grayson says. There’s an intimacy to his tone. Are they together? Is this the girl Stone threatened? There are undercurrents in this room strong enough to drag me under, but right now it looks like she’s on my side. Our side?
Stone and I have a side.
“This isn’t your fight, Abby,” Stone growls.
“You okay?” It takes me a while to realize this woman—Abby—is talking to me.
“I’m okay,” I say, but my voice comes out shaky.
She turns back to the guys.
“Not cool,” Grayson growls.
“Oh, I’m sorry, you guys killing each other is cool?” Abby asks. “That’s cool?”
“She knows where the boys are,” Grayson says.
Abby stills. “Oh.” She looks thoughtful. Her chest rises and falls. She turns to me. “You know where the boys are?”
“No! I don’t know where they are!” I say.
Abby frowns at them. “She says she doesn’t.”
“She knows who Keeper is,” Knox says.
Abby turns back to me. “You do?”
“I think so, but the police are handling it,” I say. “I gave them evidence.”
“You should tell them who it is,” Abby says.
I shake my head.
“Is it somebody close to you?” she asks, voice gentle. “Brother? Father?”
I look over at Stone. See the gears turning in his head.
“Vigilante justice is never right,” I plead. “Killing is never right. Let the police handle it.”
Abby groans.
The blond one seems to still, like he’s alerted to some faraway signal. Or maybe there’s an actual sound—I can’t hear anything with the way my ears are ringing. Then Stone turns toward the open doorway.
Somebody’s there.
I gasp in horror.
It’s my father, eyes wild, head tipped back, arm twisted back. He’s being held from behind by somebody bigger and stronger.
“Look who I found skulking around out there,” the man says. His dark hair is shaven to a sheen of black against his scalp.
“Daddy,” I whisper.
“Let her go. It’s me you want,” my father says.
“Don’t hurt him,” I say.
I see when Stone gets it, or maybe he already figured it out thanks to Abby’s question. Father or brother. Someone close enough I’d die to protect him. This is Keeper.