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“Not here.” Jacob points toward the door. “We’ll talk in the car.”

My heart drums in my throat as I follow them out the front door and toward the garage. I pause when they both climb inside Tristan’s Sports Audi. That’s the car I drove to the Hamptons all those months ago. In an instant, Tristan’s body lying on the side of the road flashes in my mind. I shake my head to clear it.

“Get in. We don’t have time to just stand around,” Gardenia says before she slams the car door.

I do as she says and hop in the back seat. My stomach feels like I swallowed an anvil. If Tristan is hurt again….

“Where are we going? Where’s Tristan?” I ask them.

“He went to settle the score with the Senator.” Jacob presses the ignition and pulls out of the garage. “He’s at your house.”

“No.” I place a hand over my mouth. “How long ago was that?”

“An hour.” Gardenia shifts her body to look at me. “We all had agreed he would not go after the Senator alone. But he’s so fucking stubborn. I only found out he was gone because Mary Jane came to tell me that Freya went after him.”

“Did you try calling him?” I ask, looking out the window to gauge how close we are to the house.

“I did. But of course, he’s not answering.” Gardenia grabs her phone off the middle console and tries again. “I mean, for all we know he’s not even at the Senator’s mansion. Fuck.”

I hug my stomach doing my best not to panic. Tristan looks like he’s back to normal, but I can’t forget that a few months ago, he was in a coma. According to what he told me, his back was so bruised and swollen, he couldn’t even walk.

He can’t seriously think he can take on all of Dad’s bodyguards. I should’ve known he was planning something. He had a plan when he took me up to his room and had round after round of sex with me. He wanted me tired and sleepy, so I wouldn’t notice him leaving in the middle of the night.

“Where else would the Senator be if he’s not home?” Jacob meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. “We need a backup plan in case he’s not there.”

“I don’t know. The Hamptons, maybe?” I try to think where Dad would go if he was looking for me.

In the end, all our doubts are put to rest the minute we turn onto the quarter-of-a-mile driveway that leads to the front of the house. The ambulance lights flash red and blue as we pull up to the front door. Tears stream down my cheeks while I grip the back of the front seat, ready to bolt. As soon as the car comes to a stop, I throw myself out of the car.

I count at least ten people in paramedic uniforms. I scan the many faces, trying to figure out who I can ask what happened. But then, I see a gurney with a black body bag on top rolling out the front door, and I stumble forward. The gravel pricks my hands and knees, but I can’t make myself get up to find out who’s dead.

“Paloma.” Gardenia helps me up to my feet. “It’s not him.”

Tears blur my vision, but somehow, I make my way to the paramedic pulling the gurney. “I live here. What happened?” I ask.

“I’m not sure. But we do have a few people wounded.” The woman answers with eyes full of pity. “Would you be able to identify the body?” she asks.

I nod and brace myself. For a moment, my gaze cuts to the foyer beyond the wooden doors, but all I see is more staff and cops.

The paramedic finally unzips the bag and shows me a face I know well. “Hunter,” I murmur. “He’s gone?”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “What’s his full name?”

“Hunter DuPont,” I say with an empty feeling crushing my chest as I stare at the face of the man I thought I loved for years. He looks like he’s sleeping, all the creases around his eyes and forehead gone. Hunter is gone.

“Okay. The police will be with you shortly to take a statement, okay?” the paramedic says.

I’m about to say yes, when Tristan crosses the threshold holding Freya’s hand while she’s being wheeled out. She’s unconscious, but at least, she’s alive. Fisher is on the other side of the gurney telling Freya everything is going to be fine even though she’s already bled through her clothes and the covers the paramedic is using to put pressure on the wound. Both Tristan and Fisher are also covered in blood. The stench of it assaults my nostrils, and it’s all I can do to keep my dinner down.

“Tristan.” I wrap my arms around his waist.

“You shouldn’t be here.” His tone is angry, but the way he hugs me tight tells me he’s happy to see me.

“I woke up and you were gone. What happened?” I glance up at him as he lets go of Freya’s hand.

“I don’t know. Mom showed up with Hunter. He shot her. That fucking asshole shot her.” His eyes are red from crying.

“Tristan.” I slip my hand through his fingers. “Hunter is dead.”