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Expecting her to change nearly her entire life is a lot to ask, but she’d better get on board, because I’m not losing her.

“This won’t be just Weston,” she tells Dylan and me as we fly through Madoc’s open gate. “Green Street will be there.” And then after a short pause, “They’ll be in charge.”

Most people in Weston aren’t affiliated with Green Street, but every person in Green Street is from Weston. Except Reeves, the real boss, a fact I’m sure Hugo resents.

Still, though…many of the Rebels idolize the gang, and they’re easily manipulated to help cause trouble whenever Green Street needs them.

Cars pack the driveway and the lawn, tire marks ripping the grass and creating puddles of mud. The fountain in the center of the driveway overflows with soap suds, and I hear a crash inside as some Trent Reznor song blasts over the speakers.

I pull in behind two other cars, blocking them in, and take my phone, dialing Kade. It’ll take forever to find him in there. I need to call him.

We climb out, all of us scanning the road behind us for any sign of the Rebels’ headlights.

The music blasts, the phone rings in my ear, and I shake my head. “Kade, pick up the phone. Goddammit.”

He probably can’t hear it.

What am I saying? He probably doesn’t even have it on him.

I take Aro’s hand, glancing at Dylan. “You don’t leave my sight.” And then to Aro, “Stay close.”

We head for the house, and I swing open the door, music hitting my ears like a needle. I flinch.

People loiter around the entryway and linger on the stairwell leading to the second floor. Jasmine Cavanaugh is pressed against the wall underneath the Caruthers’ family photo being felt up and kissed by someone I don’t recognize.

We make our way past the living room where air mattresses cover the floor, and half of the students dance around in their pajamas, drinking, laughing, and cuddling.

But then I look ahead and stop.

“Jesus,” I whisper.

Dylan laughs, and I don’t have to see her face to know she’s delighted. I shove open the patio doors and blink long and hard. “Madoc’s going to kill him.”

Foam machines spill suds all over the pool deck, the pool, and onto the lawn, reaching about three to four feet high in certain areas where it piles up against the rock walls and fences.

Our friends and classmates—hell, the whole fucking school—is here, dancing thigh-deep in the suds, drinking, and falling in the pool that they can’t see because it’s covered with foam, just like the deck. Blue and green strobe lights make it hard to make out anything, all of the other lights off.

Madoc spends a fortune on landscaping, and I don’t want to be Kade tomorrow when his friends have trampled his petunias because they can’t see what they’re stepping on.

I search the area, looking for his blond hair.

But someone calls my name, “Hawke!”

I jerk my eyes over, seeing Dirk head my way. “Have you seen Kade?”

“No, man. Call him.”

I already did.

I just shout. “Kade!”

Aro and I spin around, looking, but then I tell Dylan, “Go make sure Madoc’s office is locked.”

She nods and runs. Madoc keeps his office secured when he knows a lot of strangers will be in his home, so it should be off limits tonight, too.

But we need to make sure.

“We should shut this down,” I tell Aro.

She shakes her head. “No. The crowd will slow them down. You don’t want them to have free rein of the place. The Pirates outnumber them anyway.”

“The Pirates will think it’s all in good fun,” I fire back. “They won’t fight back.”

“You want to put drunk people on the road?” she asks. “They’re here for a slumber party, Hawke. They’re in for the night.”

“I know th—”

But all of a sudden, the house goes dark, every light inside dying.

What the hell?

“Ohhh!” people cheer around us, but I look at Aro and she looks at me.

“Where the hell is Kade?” I murmur.

And Dylan…

Shit.

Everything out on the patio still runs—the decorative torches, strobe lights, and foam machines. They’re on a separate breaker.

The chatter inside the house gets louder, and then we hear screams. I barely start to move before Aro is clutching my arm. “What is that?” she asks.

We both look to the patio doors, watching as dark figures emerge from the house. Some wear face paint, others wear nothing to hide their identities, and I spot Farrow Kelly sliding a backward baseball cap over his blond hair as he strolls in shirtless to show us all how badass his tattoos are.

He’s the Weston quarterback. If he sees Dylan in that jersey, I’ll be spending my night trying to get her out of his fucking trunk.

Hugo, Axel, Nicholas, and a couple of their Green Street cronies drift in, and then T.C. Wills takes Farrow’s side and holds his hands around his mouth. He shouts up into the night air. “Grudge Night!”