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“ W here the hell have you been!?”

Arms crossed, my dad yelled from his perch atop the stairs.

He couldn’t even wait until I closed the door.

I’d anticipated this reaction when I lost service in Elsewhere for half the day and then turned my phone off because I couldn’t deal.

His shadow stretched across the tiny foyer, blotting out the light.

“No answer, no call, no text? If you’re going to be out all day save me the wild-goose chase and tell me.”

So that’s what this was.

He had finally decided to be a good parent.

Too late, Dad .

Eyes bloodshot and bagged, my restless fists balling and straightening, I heaved myself up the steps, the knot in my stomach tightening with each drag of my breath.

Resentment burned my throat as I reached the top.

“Is that alcohol I smell?” He must have caught a whiff.

“Isn’t that how us Harlows deal with our feelings?” I bit out.

When that didn’t have the desired effect, I added, “Why, you want some?”

He staggered, as if my words had slapped the rosy circles onto his cheeks—but we both knew what that was from.

Pale red speckled the front of his white shirt, shifting and creasing with the frantic wave of his arms. “You’re eighteen! You’re not allowed to drink. Who gave it to you?”

“Careful, you’re dadding so hard right now,” I drawled.

“Wouldn’t want to overdo it.”

He stilled, his wispy caramel-streaked hair falling over the metal hooks of his eyeglasses.

“What’d you just say?” His voice was dead quiet.

Usually this would’ve stopped me, but tonight I burned too hot.

A scratchy cackle left my lips.

It honestly startled me, but it didn’t slow me down.

“I said you should be careful. Or I might think you actually care.”

The vein popped in his temple.

“Of course, I care,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Don’t be so angry.” Stepping so close his chin could graze the top of my head, I patted his cheek.

“It’s the truth.” I whisked past him, squinting against the bright ceiling lights.

As I neared the threshold to the living area, I spun on my heels.

“Isn’t that why you lied to me for eighteen years?”

Anger streaked his tanned cheeks with red.

“What are you talking about?”

“The term Nephilim ring a bell?” I held my chin high as he marched towards me, my voice rising and echoing through the narrow hallway.

“How about Empyrea? Chthonia? The Watchers?”

The color drained from his face.

“W-what?”

“She was cursed from the moment she met you.” Tears seared my eyes, splashing my raw cheeks.

“Did she even drown? Or did she get sucked up by some Angel of Death?”

“River—” His throat bobbed like he was stuck on the words he couldn’t speak.

He raised his hands, as if his touch would comfort me.

I dipped out of reach.

The crumpled shred of paper burned a hole in my pocket.

I pulled it out and thrust it against his chest.

He caught it before it drifted to the carpet.

“What is this?”

“You tell me.” I tilted my head and sucked on my teeth.

“This is…this is…” The air bloated his chest as he held it in and stared at the rows of coordinates.

I waited for that exhale, for the one that’d release the truth.

When it came, it was calm and steady, like in that moment he’d been able to get a hold on himself.

That made one of us.

“Wait a minute. I’m the parent here. I don’t have to explain myself to you.” He took a purposeful step forward, the floor creaking beneath his weight.

“ You should be telling me why you’re out at all hours and ditching class.”

WHAT .

I could not believe he was deflecting.

“Oh please, missing curfew was so last week.” I retreated from his slow pursuit across the open living area.

“You think because you’re eighteen the rules don’t apply to you anymore? You still live under my roof.” The evenness in his voice drew a shiver from me.

It was far more unnerving than his rage.

“Your therapist called me. She told me everything, and how combative you’ve been?—”

Blood rushed to my head and flooded my eardrums as the vision of Dr. Finis, pinned against the bookcase, drowned out whatever else he said.

How would she know any of this?

I hadn’t told her a damn thing.

How was she still alive?

Hitting an invisible wall, I halted.

“You can’t honestly say you believe that demon?”

“Don’t call her that.” My dad stopped inches from me.

“She’s concerned. And so am I.”

My mouth was too dry as I rasped, “Her concern isn’t real , and yours isn’t necessary—especially if you’re going to continue lying to me.”

His vivid slate eyes dimmed with shadows as his shoulders slouched.

An emotion I knew all too well tugged his lids closed, and his wrath dissipated right in front of me.

I stayed strong until he finally lifted his head and looked at me— really looked at me—with a reverence like he was standing before…

an angel.

“I’m the one who raised you since Mom passed. The one who chauffeured you all over town, who packed every lunch, who rubbed your head and read you stories to help soothe your senses so you could actually fall asleep at night…” The slight shake in his hands made it to his words.

“I have dozens of flaws. I know I do. But one thing I will never apologize for is what I’ve done to protect you.”

A sob crept up my throat.

I swallowed it back.

The air stung my nostrils.

“Dad, I’m not a little girl anymore. I understand you want to protect me, but the way you’ve gone about it…” I shook my head.

“It hasn’t been good for my mental health, but now it’s affecting my safety.”

When his lips parted and his shoulders unfurled, for a wild, desperate moment, I thought I’d finally gotten through to him.

The truth was one heartbeat away.

But I should’ve known the lies had been too ingrained in his mind for him to give in after one fight.

Worse, maybe he even started believing them.

“I think you should go to your room.” There was a flintiness to him, but it was forced.

“For the remainder of summer, you are to stay in this house unless it’s for an approved activity. Approved, River. No sneaking out to go surfing. Do you understand?”

No.

No, I didn’t understand.

My spine buckled beneath the weight of disappointment.

His touch was caustic as he brushed past me down the hall.

I stomped after him.

“You can’t hold me hostage!”

Features as stoic as his tone, he turned to me.

“I can. You’re still under my care. You don’t like it? Move out.”

Air whooshed into my lungs, angry words waiting to be spoken, and I let it loose in a hiss.

“I just told you I was basically in danger, and this is your reaction!?”

“Then it sounds like staying here is the safest thing for you.” He slipped into his room and closed the door so fast I didn’t even have time to form a reaction.

Staggering back a few feet into my own bedroom, I slammed the door and whirled to lean against it, my back scraping against its indents as I slid down it.

My knees provided a cushion as I laid my head onto them and let it come: all the tears, all the emotions, pouring out.

The skin below my eyes felt scalded now, bearing the brunt of so much pain.

The only part of my body that endured a worse fate was my heart.

That felt like it’d been ripped out at the bar—and my dad was the one who stomped on it until it was nothing but a splattering of muscle.

Hands gravitating to the empty spot above my chest, I pulled at my phantom necklace.

As my eyes drifted shut, its symbol pierced the pitch-black behind my lids.

A raindrop with two four-pointed stars.

The Empyrean symbol for water, one of four.

Four Watchers. Four elements.

Four watchtowers. I still had the coordinates—the paper had fluttered to the floor, flattening under my dad’s crocs as he’d stepped on it to follow me.

I hadn’t heard him leave his room to retrieve it, so it should still be there, crinkled on the carpet.

Waiting.

I didn’t need Ryder—I didn’t need my dad to carry on with this quest. I was a descendent of a freaking archangel, the Angel of Water, a guardian of the mortal realm.

It was time to follow Akosua’s directive.

I would no longer rely on anyone but myself.

“To your watchtowers,” I whispered.

Shooting to my feet, I changed out of my cutoffs, slipped on some leggings, and laced my high tops.

I gathered some bobby pins and tossed them into the pockets of the black jacket I zipped up, in case I needed to pick a lock.

Which probably wouldn’t work on a popular landmark, but whatever.

It was all I had. I cracked open the door.

After assessing the sounds—the steady hum of idle appliances, the sporadic knocks of the ice machine, the muffled voices from the TV in my dad’s room—I snuck into the hallway, cringing at every ungodly loud creak that broke the silence.

Sure enough, the scrap of the article lay atop the brown-and-beige shag.

It joined the rest of my arsenal in my windbreaker’s pocket, up against my phone.

A flutter, tiny but undeniable, stirred in my gut.

I’d meant to text Javi back earlier, but I got sidetracked.

Fingers trembling, I pulled out my cell phone and tapped the screen.

Two percent battery.

There was no time to charge it.

Tonight would either build me or destroy me, and I couldn’t let our last words be the ugliness that spewed from my lips.

On a soft inhale, I started typing, trying to stave off the worry that the words wouldn’t be perfect.

ILY and I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean to hurt you.

I promise I’ll tell you everything.

Soon.

I should’ve ended it there, but my thumbs pecked with abandon.

Keep this JIC

36.951696, -122.

026677

I didn’t even care to take it with me or lock it.

It’d be dead before I descended the stairs.

I continued on my journey, tiptoeing across the hall, down the carpeted steps.

With a quiet twist of the lock and a turn of the knob, I stepped into the moonlight.