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"River thinks you're going to kill us."

"I'm okay with that. Maybe we will."

"You're annoying," I tell him. "I'm going home."

He scoffs. "No, you're not."

"I have a curfew."

"You're aserial killer. Grow up. Let's go."

"Where?"

"Does it matter if you don't have a choice? I'm still the bigger, scarier thing."

Bone Saw doesn't wait for me to answer, turning and stalking off toward the back of the warehouse and out the loading door.

I could go out the front and run to the car. I don't have to follow him.

Of course, old habits die hard—or, in my case, they don't die at all. I slip and slide back toward the alley, where Bone Saw waits with his arms crossed in front of him. The other men are still there, working another barrel back up the ramp.

"Leave your clothes and shoes here," he says. "They'll take care of it."

"What? But—"

"You're not getting in my car like this. Strip down to your underwear and let's go. Besides, it's nothing I haven't seen before…beneath me, shaking while I fucked your pussy until you blacked out."

"I like these shoes."

"You have four pairs."

I grit my teeth and pull my shirt over my head.

Folding my arms over my chest, I follow him around the corner to a black Aston Martin. When I open the passenger side door, there's a yellow t-shirt draped over the seat.

Everything is bigger in Texas!

"You're fucked up for this," I say, pulling it on. He shakes with laughter as he speeds down the alleyway, whipping around the corner and nearly throwing me into the backseat when he pulls onto the main road.

"Fuck!" I shout, searching for my seatbelt. "And you're laughing! Stop fucking laughing."

He pulls onto the 805 and speeds away from the city. Now, at almost two in the morning, he drives with the headlights off down the mostly open road. Every now and then, I look out the window and spot a few stray fireworks erupting in the sky.

Happy birthday, Luca. I love you,I think, leaning my head against the window.

"Was there a concert?" I ask.

"No. I can't believe you fell for that shit. It was stupid."

"I know," I say, picking at the broken skin on the palm of my hand. It hadn't hurt so much when I did it, but it hurts now, and it's still bleeding a lot. "I used to fall for stuff like that all the time—conspiracy theories. I was just…hopeful. Is that so bad?"

"Yes."

"What's your name?"

He scoffs. "I'm not telling you my fucking name."

"It's somethingstupid,isn't it?"