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She shakes her head, laughing mirthlessly, and then heads into the living room…

Where we find my father and Noah.

Alone.

“Yes, sir,” Noah says, his expression sober. “I understand.”

What does he understand?

“Good.” Dad scowls at him for another few seconds and then turns his attention to my mother and me.

“Where are Cassian and Max?” I ask.

“I sent them out,” Dad says, like he’s some kind of dictator who can move people across a playing field like pawns.

“Out where?”

“Outside.” He waves his hand toward the back of the house. “I don’t know where they went.”

“It’s time to go, Robert,” Mom says. “I’m exhausted, and I need to get these contacts out.”

I turn to my mom, realizing she’s not wearing her glasses—probably because she broke them. “Are they uncomfortable?”

“No, they just dry out my eyes.”

“I used to wear contacts,” Noah says. “I switched to a different contact lens solution, and it helped.”

Mom turns to him, wary. “Used to?”

He suddenly looks like he wishes he hadn’t brought it up. “I don’t need them anymore.”

“Did you have corrective eye surgery?” she asks.

“The virus took care of it.” He clears his throat, looking super awkward.

It’s rather adorable, but he’d hate me for thinking it, so I bite back a smile.

“It fixed your vision?” Mom asks, suddenly intrigued.

Not liking the direction the conversation is headed, Dad says, “Go pack an overnight bag, Piper, so we can go.”

“I’m not going with you.”

“You’re not staying here.” He jerks his hand at Noah. “Not with him.”

“I am.”

“Robert,” Mom says, sounding weary. “Let’s go, hon. We’ll talk to Piper more in the morning.”

He looks at her like she’s lost her mind. And though he’s more than willing to fight with me, he doesn’t want to fight with her.

“Fine,” he says, though he doesn’t like it. Then he turns to Noah, pinning him with a look that would make most men wince. “You will remember what I said.”

“Yes, sir,” Noah responds stoically.

Whatdid Dad say to him?

Fifteen long minutes later, they’re pulling out of the drive.