Page 47

“Alone?”

“Yeah. Alone.”

I stare at him, waiting for the punchline, but he just nods like this is normal.

“Right,” I say slowly. “Anything else I should know?”

“Just show up,” he says, already walking away. Then he turns, smirking over his shoulder. “Don’t be late, newbie.”

I watch him go, shaking my head. Reaper shit? Just what I need.

Still, my mood’s not totally wrecked. I glance at my fingers, catching a faint trace of Sienna’s scent. A grin spreads across my face. Bringing my fingers to my mouth, I lick them clean. Sweet. Just like I thought she’d be.

Maybe my luck’s finally turning around.

I check my phone. 4:30. I’ve got a call with Mr. Coleman at five, so no time to screw around.

I think about going back into the library, but nah. Tormenting Sienna can wait.

I head to the parking lot, finding my car exactly where I left it. I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine. I crank up the radio to some old rock song that blares through the speakers as I pull out of the lot.

The drive home is quick. As I park and head inside, I’m already thinking about tonight. The Brotherhood, huh? Whatever it is, it better be good.

The McLaren growls under me as I take the last turn toward the square, the streetlights casting slick patterns on the hood. Midnight feels like the start of a bad movie, but here I am, driving out for some cryptic “Brotherhood” bullshit. Caleb’s smug face floats to mind. This better not be some kind of prank.

The dashboard clock flips to 11:55, and my thoughts slide back to earlier.

“Your father’s been transferred.”

Mr. Coleman had sounded calm, like he wasn’t delivering a bombshell. “Transferred? Why the fuck?”

“Incident in the holding cells,” he’d said, pausing like he was picking his words carefully. “Some of the other inmates recognized him.”

Recognized him. What the hell did that mean?

“Jesus Christ,” I’d muttered, pacing the length of the penthouse. “You’re telling me they can’t even keep him safe for a goddamn week?”

“It’s complicated,” Coleman had said, his lawyer tone infuriatingly neutral. “We’re working on bail, but it’s tricky given the circumstances.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I’d snapped, slamming my hand on the counter.

That call had been the final straw. This thing that Caleb invited me to is a perfect distraction. Just what I need.

I park near the square, the McLaren’s engine cutting off with a soft growl. Ahead, a small group of people huddle near the fountain.

I glance at the clock again. 11:57. Five minutes to midnight. Great.

Sliding out of the car, I lock it with a beep and stroll toward the fountain. The cold air bites at my skin, but I don’t mind. It keeps me sharp.

A couple of the guys glance my way, but no one speaks. Are they here for the Brotherhood too?

I’m still trying to figure it out when something drops over my head.

“What the fuck?” I yell, twisting, but hands grab me—strong ones.

Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.

“Seriously?” I bark, struggling as they shove me forward. “This team does fucking hazing? Real original, guys.”